Sorry for the delayed update, so here's the longest chapter yet...
Chapter Six:
"Have you been eating?"
"Huh?", I mumbled, snapping out of my thoughts. My mind was completely somewhere else. More like on someone else. I thinking about my brothers, particularly Sam. I still see him jumping into that hole in my nightmares, and sometimes even when my brain wonders too far when I close my eyes. Every time I think about it for too long I feel myself go cold, and feel goosebumps speckle across my skin.
I looked up at the person standing in front of me who had a wary look in his eyes. The room has cleared out. It was just Deaton and I in what I learnt was a veterinarian clinic. Derek, Scott and Stiles were outside while Deaton looked me over properly. I was still sitting on the cold metal table, my wrist still cuffed to it.
"I asked if you've been eating", Deaton repeated.
I just nodded in return, even though I couldn't really remember the last time I've had decent nutritious meal that wasn't cereal, salty pretzels or beef jerky. I haven't really had an appetite since I lost my brother. Sometimes just the smell of food made me want to gag. So I ate things I could stomach to keep me going without feeling too energy-less.
Deaton didn't say anything as he pulled out a small pen light from his coat pocket. He clicked it on and pointed the bright light into my left eye then my right eye, examining my pupils.
Groaning slightly, I closed my eyes and moved back from his hands. The blinding light was not helping my migraine at all. "Was that really necessary?", I asked in irritation as I tried to blink the white blurriness out of my vision.
"Just checking for any brain or nerve damage", he grinned up at me in a teasing sort of way which kind of reminded me of the Deaton I used to remember.
Making eye contact with the doctor, I tried to relax and control my frustration even though I was still handcuffed to the table.
"You clearly haven't been drinking enough water. You were very dehydrated when they brought you in...", Deaton continued has he clicked the pen light off and put it away.
"You mean carried me in...", I corrected under my breath but he just chose to ignore my comment and continue his sentence.
"... I was about to hook you up to a drip", he finished, eyeing my appearance intensely.
I just shrugged in response, not knowing what to say to that.
Deaton dropped his gaze and dunked a white cloth in a container of water. His lips formed into a straight line of concentration as he squeezed some of the water from the cloth and brought it to my cheek. It didn't hurt yet since he was just cleaning the blood that trailed down from the cut on my forehead. When he was done, he rinsed the now blood stained cloth in the container of water again, making the water turn crimson. Then he began cleaning the cut on my head but a lot more gently this time.
I didn't say a word as he worked, my jaw clenched tight from the pain so I wouldn't make a noise. Every time he touched the open wound, it shot a pain through my skull making me grip the edge of the metal table tighter and tighter. He finally finished cleaning all the blood and pulled back, dunking the container and red stained cloth in a large metal sink.
After washing his hands, he pulled a bandage from his workstation and made his way towards me.
"How many hours of sleep have you been getting a night?", he asked more firmly as he began to unwrap the bandage.
Without warning he swiftly pulled my broken skin together and applied the butterfly bandage keeping the wound closed. I instinctively hissed from the pain, pulling away from him but he was already done. He looked down at me unremorseful, like he purposely didn't bother to warn me so he could get a reaction out of me. So I chose to just glare at the man but he ignored me as he waited for an answer.
"Answer my question", he pressed.
While scowling at him, I shrugged not having an answer. I know I wasn't sleeping enough but I wasn't going to tell him that. And I'm really not up for a lecture right now.
He eyed me skeptically, "Stormy, there's a reason why you reacted so badly to a head injury. You need to take better care of yourself and...", he began with the lecture but I cut him off.
"How long are you going to leave me cuffed here for?", I grunted, not even bothering to be smooth about purposely changing the subject.
Deaton sighed, giving up on the tell off, "How long are you going to dodge my questions?"
Sitting up straighter, I went into hunter mode, "Long enough for you to leave the room so I can wheel this table over to your workstation, grab that pointing looking tool over there and pick my way out of these cuffs", I replied smoothly in one breath. My eyes had already calculated my surroundings and devised an escape route as soon as my head stopped pounded enough to do so.
Deaton folded his arms across his chest all businesslike, "That's a well thought out plan. What were you planning to do with the two werewolves in the next room?", he played along.
"There's a mason jar filled with wolfsbane on that shelf of yours, two jars from the left. I'd use that to subdue the wolves long enough to get out. And if plan A doesn't work, plan B is to grab mole-boy and use him as a human shield", I replied just as calculated as before.
"But we all know you won't hurt him", he tried, knowing I wouldn't hurt a human.
I shrugged, "Desperate times, doc. Desperate times", I hummed dropping the hint that I would go that far, trying to get him to back off.
Deaton inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, calculating his options. "You know I can't let you go until I have your word that you'll leave Beacon Hills?"
"I never leave in the middle of a hunt", I replied bluntly, "And I think Beacon Hills is starting to grow on me, even without all its perks of normality. They also have really good curly fries in that diner in the middle of town."
"Does your brother know you're here?", he asked sternly, and I stilled instantly, "And before you answer that, I know there is no way Dean would let you leave his side after what just happened to your brother", Deaton spoke more carefully, knowing it was a touchy subject.
"Why do you care?", I snapped, sitting up straighter and angrily pulling at my cuffs, really wanting to leave and end this conversation.
"Because I still have Dean Winchester's number and I'm sure he'll finds it very informative to know where his little sister has ran off to", he threatened.
"You wouldn't", I hissed, my temper rising. This is the last thing I needed right now. All I wanted was some time on my own, a descent hunt and to find some place where I could live slightly normal for Sam.
"I'd be forced to do so if you don't let us handle our own wolf problem", he warned.
I breathed out heavily, my free hand cradling my slightly aching head, "You're going to want my help..."
He shook his head defiantly.
"You're going to need it, Deaton", I pressed, my voice growing more serious forcing him to listen to me. "These werewolves you're dealing with... they are the most vicious I've ever seen, and that's really saying something coming from me. They ripped out their victims hearts and pulled out their eyeballs from their sockets. They defaced them completely beyond recognition and shredded their bodies severely into separate pieces. The standard wolf are animalistic and uncontrollable while their human side don't know what they're doing. They fight stupidly, only for the purpose of devouring their victims heart. It's hunger that feeds them. But the werewolves that are murderous these people in Beacon Hills are killing with reason. They are aggressive, maybe even emotional in their killings. There's a reason why they killed each victim, it's not random. We need to find out why them so we can figure out who is next before they kill someone else. And you're going to need my help", I explained sincerely.
This hunt isn't a simple gank and go. There's a whole pack of volatile wolves in town that cannot be stopped by one hunter alone. I need their help, and they need mine.
Deaton was silent, processing the new information. I was beginning to convince him so I tried a bit more.
"Look... I'm not going to hurt your friends. If you say I can trust them, then I'll try and trust your judgement", Deaton began to reply and I quickly added one more thing that hurt a little to admit, "And... I really need the distraction right now", my voice going soft. I wasn't ready to leave yet. I didn't want to move to another town and start all over again, even though I haven't built much of anything here anyway. I was just too tired.
"I'm still not sure about this…", he dragged out with furrowed brows.
"Well, one things for sure... If you call my brother, he'll definitely get rid of your werewolf problem... every single one of them", I added darkly, indication that he wouldn't spare his wolf allies so easily. I knew it was a low blow but I was a little desperate to stay. I really didn't want to have to start over again.
Deaton sighed, finding no choice but to give in. "You can stay...", he nodded his lips formed into a straight line, and before I could say anything he added conditions, "But you follow my rules. You do not harm them or their friends...", he pointed at the door, indicating who were on the other side: Derek, Scott and Stiles, "And you do whatever it takes to stop whoever is responsible for these murders", he urged the last point more intensely.
I nodded my head in compliance, "I will...", I paused, needing to add an exemption, "... but if any of your wolves step out of line or hurt an innocent, then you know I can't keep my word."
"They won't", he replied quickly and surely.
"Don't be so sure of yourself, doc. That v-neck wearing douche had his claws out earlier today, ready to kill me. He would've if he had the chance", I pointed out, recalling when Peter wanted to 'finish the job' when I was tried to a chair in that burnt down house.
"He's Derek's uncle, Peter Hale", he paused, thinking of the right words to say, "Peter... Peter is complicated...", and that was all he said.
I rose a brow at his lack of explanation.
Hale... Hale? Where have I heard that name before? Hale... As in the Hale house fire? The fire that I read about when I was researching this town, which happened years ago that killed many innocent lives. Which means the house must have been filled with werewolves. Which connects the reason why a hunter, Kate Argent would set the place alight and murder all those people. It still didn't justify her actions though. There were whole families in that house, women and children. And seeing how the resident wolves of this town are living among humans in harmony, then there might have even been humans killed in that fire. Why would she do that? But then again, I'm not so shocked. The Argent family are a crazed up bunch. I remember my father, brothers and I working with a Gerard Argent on a case. Let's just say Dean almost lost an arm that night.
"Just don't trust a word from his mouth, no one else does", he added simply, which wasn't making me feel any better about working with these wolves.
"That's comforting", I grumbled sarcastically.
"Well, you can't chose family, can you?", he rhetorically asked, a small grin emerging on his lips.
"No, sir... No, you can't", I agreed and then there was a pause between us before I looked down at my bound wrist. "So... how 'bout it, doc?", I pulled at the cuffs, grinning at him innocently so he could unlock them.
Deaton stepped out into the front room of the veterinarian clinic and I followed closely behind. Derek rose his eyebrows at the doctor questioningly, as in what-now?
The veterinarian inhaled a deep breath, preparing himself for a heated reaction. "Stormy is going to assist us with our werewolf problem", he said simply, like it was already decided without room for objections.
"Excuse me?", Derek hissed, pushing off the wall he was leaning against, coming towards us. Stiles, who was lounging on a sky blue plastic chair in the waiting section jumped up from his seat, coming to Derek's side sensing a commotion brewing.
"She is not threat anymore, Derek. We came to an agreement", Deaton explained, turning to me and giving me a firm look.
"We don't need her help!", the wolf snapped, not even bothering to look at me like I wasn't even there as he yelled at the veterinarian. Before I could argue otherwise, Deaton responded before I could.
"Actually, we do. Her family has more experience with the supernatural then all of us combined", Deaton stated facts, trying to calm him.
"I don't care!", Derek's voice shook with an inhuman growl underneath. The venom dripping from his words made me thankful that Deaton gave me back my gun. Out of instinct, I wanted to grip the pistol which was tucked into the back of my waistband but I stopped the urge since I had to prove that was working with them, not against them.
Stiles delicately stepped forward, closer to the wolf, "Derek... I think we're going to need all the help we can get", he tried with the wolf, trying to calm him down.
"Derek didn't even pay any attention to the poor kid, his eyes still glaring at the veterinarian, "Why should we trust her?", he demanded sharply, still ignoring my presence which I couldn't take anymore.
"Standing right here...", I huffed, breaking my silence as I exaggeratedly gestured to myself.
They now both pretended I wasn't there as Deaton answered Derek, "Trust me, she wants to help us", he assured.
Derek's expression just grew more annoyed, "I barely trust you either!", he snapped, pointing a finger at the doctor. He then dropped his hand with a heavy growl, knowing he was losing the battle as he turned away from us to get his anger under control.
"Uhh... he means...", Stiles began slowly as he stepped forward towards Deaton, trying to edit Derek's harsh words, "... is that we tend to always get half truths from you... or only one part of the story, which is sometimes kinda frustrating to say the least. It's not that he doesn't trust you, e-exactly", he tried to explain, clearly having the same feelings towards the veterinarian.
Before Deaton could defend himself, I stepped in. "Okay, I think we're getting a bit off track here...", I tried not wanting to be the cause of the break of trust between Deaton and the others.
Derek just turned back to face him, still not even looking at me as he pointed a finger in Deaton's face, "I don't like this, Deaton", he seethed, coming towards him, "If she hurts anyone, it'll be on you", he warned before he stormed out of the clinic, the door slamming close behind him.
Stiles let out a dramatic breath, "Uhh... so that went well", he huffed, tension leaving his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"You can say that again", I breathed out more relaxed now that there wasn't an enraged wolf in the room anymore.
"That-went-well", he dragged out, sounding even more sarcastic than the first time which almost made me laugh out loud.
Deaton sighed heavily at Derek's fit and turned to me, "I need to give you something, then you can go."
I gave him a nod and he returned back inside, behind the counter. Exhaustion feeling heavy on my shoulders, I yawned and looked down at my brown leather band watch. It read 1:23 am. It was late. I had to be up early for school in a couple hours. Looking up, I realised it was just Stiles and I in the room and he was just standing there awkwardly, twiddling his fingers.
"Where is crooked-jaw?", I asked, looking around the room for him, just noticing that the young werewolf was missing.
"You mean, Scott?", he asked with a small smile twitching at his lips.
"Aha... I'm not good with names", I shrugged. It felt odd calling people I barely know by their names. It just seemed too personal.
Stiles nodded, understanding then motioned towards the door. "Well, Scott left. He needed to pick up his mum from work", he explained, dropping his hand and began twiddling his fingers again then stopped, looking up at me with a curious expression on his face. "If he's crooked-jaw... then what am I?", he inquired with a small smile.
"Mole-boy", I answered nonchalantly.
Stiles blushed a little, not expecting that as he unconsciously ran his fingers against the moles scattered across his neck. Then his smile widened as he pointed his thumb towards the door that Derek just stormed out off in question.
"He's grumpy-face", I smirked.
Stiles dipped his head as he cracked up laughing, "Spot on!", he chuckled in agreement, "Dude needs to smile more."
I smiling in agreement as Deaton walked back in holding a small plastic baggie with a couple white tablets in them.
"This is what you wanted to give me?", I asked confused.
"They're pain killers. You hit your head quite hard so the headaches may persist for a day or two", he explained.
"How do you know she doesn't have a concussion?", Stiles asked Deaton, sounding a little concerned which was odd for me coming from a stranger.
"I don't", the doctor answered bluntly, "But my clinic doesn't have the machinery like a CT scan to test her. And knowing Stormy, there is nothing I can say that will get her to get checked at the hospital so I'm not going to waste my breath by suggesting it", he turned to look at me when he said that.
I guess he remembers my family pretty well. He knew that Winchesters avoid hospital visits at all cost if they can. It seriously has to be a life or death matter for us to actually check ourselves into one. Hatred of disinfectant smelling hospitals must be connected to the Winchester gene.
"But she's not showing signs of concussion. It doesn't seem severe", he assured, turning back to Stiles.
Stiles mouth dropped open in doubt as he motion his hand at me, "She was knocked out unconscious, and after waking up from that she practically passed out again. How is that not severe?", he asked skeptical. It seemed as if he was more annoyed at the doctor than anything. I guess Deaton had really frustrated them with his vagueness in the past.
"I feel fine", I told them, recoiling at just the thought of going to a hospital right now. There would be a lot of questions needed to be explained that I would be way too tired to construct a lie for.
"She was dehydrated, had no food in her system and hasn't been getting enough hours of sleep. Her body was exhausted", Deaton explained to Stiles, "That's the reason she reacted so badly to the head injury...", he paused like sometime just occurred to him as he turned to me, "You probably shouldn't drive tonight either, just to be safe", he added.
Stiles had a perplexed expression on his face as he turned to me.
I groaned, "So much for patient confidentiality, doc", I huffed in annoyance, "Can I leave now?"
Deaton nodded remorseless and placed the small baggie with the pills in my hand. "They're strong, so take only one tablet every four hours", he instructed, "I need to get this place cleaned up before I open in a couple hours, and both of you need to get some rest before school", he gave us both a nod, and placed a hand on my shoulder as a goodbye as he passed me, returning back inside.
Stuffing the pills in the pocket of my jeans, I looked up between Stiles and Derek who must of walked back in while I was talking to Deaton. He was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed with a very displeased look on his face. I think he was waiting for Stiles, making sure I didn't stab him to death or something. He really thinks little of me, doesn't he?
Suddenly, the last couple of hour really sunk in and I remembered that I was brought here while unconscious, so my car wasn't here. And also that I didn't know exactly what part of town this veterinarian clinic was located. Great.
"So did anyone at least have the common courtesy to retrieve my car from the woods?", I asked tiredly, my hands open in question at the two in front of me.
Derek and Stiles both gave me a blank look. Clearly, the answer was a no.
"Ugh... I should put a bullet in both of you just on principle alone", I muttered to myself, leaning back against the counter and rubbed at my tired eyes. I'm too tired for this. This past week, I haven't been able to sleep properly. And my heart would flutter in regret at just the thought of sleep because of the fear of another nightmare. But right now, all I wanted was to collapse onto that pathetic inflatable mattress of mine, in that dusty abandoned office building and black the hell out. Getting your head smashed into a tree really takes it out of you.
Derek growled at my words, taking it as a threat even though I wasn't being serious at all. He clenched his fists at his sides as he pushed off the wall to glare me down.
"Woah, grouchy-face... I was kidding", I put my hands up in defense not wanting to fight as I turned to Stiles, "Can't your mammal friends take a joke?", I whispered to him even though I knew Derek's wolf eats would hear my.
"Uhh... Scott, yeah on occasion, when he gets it", he answered seriously, looking Derek over, "But Derek... don't hold your breath. Ever since I met him, I've been trying to get him to crack a smile. No success thus far", his face frowned in disappointment.
"Maybe you didn't have the right material", I suggested, both of us still looking over an increasingly agitative Derek.
"Oh, I've had the right material. Trust me, it's impossible", he replied, very sure of himself.
"Noted", I mumbled with a nod, then pushed off the front bench, "Anyway, it was real peachy doing this kidnapping thing and all, but I think I'm going to head out", I said but Stiles voice stopped me from going forward.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"To get my car", I answered like it obvious.
"But it's in the woods... and it's the middle of the night!", his voice went a little high pitched at the end.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious", I replied sarcastically as I began to walk towards the door but Stiles hand shot out to stop me in my place.
"No... nope. I can't do it", he shook his head like he was fighting internally with himself, "Even though you scare me a little, I can't let you walk out there alone."
"Deaton gave me back my .45 and switch blade... and I also stole a vial of his wolfsbane. That's enough company for me", I assured as I began to walk past him again.
Stiles sneakers squeaked against the floor as he side stepped into my path blocking my way completely, "Come on... I'll give you a ride", he told me a little reluctantly.
Before I could refuse, Derek stepped forward and growled, "Stiles...", he warned.
"Just ignore that massive hunk of mass over there, and let's go", he mumbled to me quickly on the side before he swung his head for me to follow him out the door.
But he didn't get very far before Derek grabbed the boys arm, stopping him in his tracks.
"You're not going", he hissed, death staring the kid. Woah, way to shoe you care. Nice social skills.
"It's okay. I really don't need a ride...", I began but he ignored me yet again. Truth is, with the way my body felt right now I'd be surprised if I made it down the street without collapsing onto the concrete.
Stiles flailed his free arm around in Derek's face, "You said she wouldn't hurt me because I'm human", he fought with Derek and then paused suddenly, snapping his head towards me warily, "That is still a principle of yours, right?"
Nodding in return, I couldn't help the small smile that escaped my lips. Mole-boy was beginning to grow on me.
"I'm not leaving you alone with her", Derek glared at the boy.
Stiles just stared at him in refusal and Derek just growled slightly, knowing the kid was stubborn.
So, Derek continued to glare threateningly and Stiles continued to be defiant.
Three minutes later…
A skinny pale boy was driving a baby blue jeep with a growling wolf in the passenger seat and a hunter in the back.
"Derek, you really didn't need to come", Stiles told him, giving him a side glance before turning back to the road in front on him.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna to hurt your little friend. Deaton and I had an agreement. There's a contract and everything. We even had to sign it with our own blood", I drawled out sarcastically in a blunt tone from the backseat.
Derek chose to respond with a threatening glare and then turned his head to looked out the window to ignore me.
Stiles snickered as he looked back at me, "Nice. I'm usually the one on the other side of that death glare", he smirked and turned to Derek who gave him the same look, "What? It's true!"
"Shut up, Stiles", he ordered bluntly.
"Yikes, talk about the stick up your...", I began to mumbled under my breath but was rudely interrupted by the werewolf in the car with the highly sensitive wolf hearing.
"I'd really think about your next words, Winchester", He threatened, his lips forming into a straight line.
"What are you going to do, Hale? Call your uncle to knock me out?", I mocked.
Derek eyed me suspiciously, not expecting me to know his last name or that Peter was his uncle. But I already connected the dots.
"I can do a lot more damage then a bump on the head, kid!", he growled through clenched teeth.
Stiles head was switching between us anxiously as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, not knowing if our verbal argument was going to turn physical.
"Like what? You can also scratch and bite?", I scoffed but placed my hand on my thigh so I had quick access to my gun if the werewolf chose to act on his threat.
Derek was opening his mouth to respond but Stiles cut him off, "Okay! Quit it, guys!", he yelled as he waved his hand between us, his other hand still gripping the wheel. It was like he was trying to disconnect our vicious glares at one another by using his hand to slice through the tension. But it obviously wasn't working. "I really don't need another blood bath happening in my jeep. Roscoe cannot take anymore blood stains!"
"Just drive faster, Stiles", Derek snarled breaking eye contact with me as he turned to face the front. His shoulders remained tense and his hands were in fists at his sides.
"Gladly!", Stiles breathed out, pressing his foot further down on the accelerator as I leaned back in my seat, trying to ignore a pounding headache.
This is going to be a long drive...
"I parked right behind that road-sign there", I pointed out to Stiles from the backseat, my arm shooting out between his and Derek's heads.
He nodded finding the car I tried to hide from view, and guided the jeep to the kerb, putting it into park.
I slid over to the door since I was sitting in the middle of the backseats and gripped the door handle, "Thank you, Stiles", I said, calling him by his name for the first time. I didn't bother acknowledging the werewolf in the passenger seat since we weren't very fond of each other anyway. Before he could respond, I exited the Jeep and closed the door behind me. I let out an exhausted breath, rubbing my fingers gently against my temple, making sure not to touch the bandage that was there.
As I was making my way towards my car, I heard door of the Jeep open and then the haste of stumbling limbs.
"Stormy, wait!", Stiles called, his sneakers skidding against the gravelly asphalt as he sprinted around the car towards me. Stopping in my tracks with a sigh, I turned to face him. "Uhh... Deaton said you shouldn't drive, remember?", he asked quickly, looking me up and down and frowning.
Did I look that bad? I felt pretty bad. Looking down at my Converse, dark jeans and light grey tee, I saw that they were covered in mud and my shirt was splattered with dry blood. I couldn't predict how my face and hair looked. Deaton cleaned up the blood but I'm sure I still looked horrible.
"It's okay, I can handle getting home", I responded tiredly as I began to turn away but he spoke, stopping me again.
"I'm honestly not so sure you can. You... you're...", he paused, trying to find the right words, not knowing me well enough to comprehend how I'd react to his bluntness, "Well... you look like crap", he gave up the niceties with a wince.
I laughed. I don't know why but I just laughed, hysterically. And truly laughed too, no sarcasm in it at all.
"Oh my god... I think Peter broke her", Stiles mumbled to himself in panic as he stepped forward towards me. His hands were out cautiously but I was still chuckling uncontrollably.
I was remembering my brothers. I don't know why but I was thinking back to a poltergeist hunt we did in an abandoned chemical plant in Idaho. The poltergeist locked Dean outside the building when he was getting something from the Impala's arsenal. And Sam and I were trapped inside for almost six hours, being hunted down by the thing. It was playing with us the whole time, enjoying the fact that it was making us miserable. It threw us against numerous concrete walls and flung any lose objects at our heads.
Dean tried everything he could to get back into the building but nothing worked against the ghost's supernatural force. The thing separated Sammy and I for a few hours, and when we finally found each other we were almost out of ammo. Shooting the ghost up with rock salt only hurt so much before it came back again. So we worked together to find what object was keeping the spirit attached to the building so we could light it on fire and it'd be gone for good.
By the time Sammy and I walked out of that chemical plant, the sun began to glow over the horizon and birds began to chirp. Dean was on the floor leaning against the Impala, pale with anxiety. When he looked up to see his siblings, instant relief spread across his face as he gave us a once over, examining us for any life threatening injuries. Sammy and I were covered in blood and bruises, our clothes were tattered and our eyes were blood shot. But to Dean's relief, we had no major wounds. We both stumbled our way towards him with mopey, exhausted expressions on our faces. I still remember what I said to him.
- "The friggin' poltergeist was attached to his severed thumb which he lost to a mechanical saw! A friggin' thumb!", I seethed angrily, still gripping the lighter I torched the thumb with tightly in my hand. Sam stood beside me grumpily with his long hair in a disheveled mess, sticking out at corners and caked with dried blood.
Our older brother just stared at us, his lips beginning to itch into a smile. Then it widened, showing the whiteness of his teeth before he began chuckling, leaning forward slightly before he started to fully crack up. With his hands on his knees, he laughed out loud for a good twenty seconds before regaining his composure long enough to look back up at his siblings. Sam and I were just standing there glaring at him not having moved, our blood shot eyes in slits.
Dean still had a wide grin across his face as he snickered, "You guys look like shit!"
"Dick...", we both mumbled in unison, as I threw the lighter in my hand at his face. And to my satisfaction it hit him in the head since he wasn't expecting it at all. He just began laughing to himself again so Sam and I pushed pass him and both got into the backseat of the Impala, not wanting to be anywhere near out older brother. -
"S-Stormy... hey... you with me?"
I snapped back to reality, holding my head with both hands as it pulsed angrily in agony. I must have stopped laughing at some point seeing how it had intensified my massive migraine.
"Y-Yeah... I'm fine", I grimaced, dropping my hands as I looked up at Stiles who was very close now, his hand on my shoulder and face full of concern.
"Come on, I'll drive you home. Derek will take the Jeep", he planned out as he looked over at Derek who must have gotten out of the Jeep at some point since he was now just a few feet away. The wolf was standing with his hands at his sides, no longer in fists and his eyebrows were knitted together in confusion.
I frowned, disorientated by the whole situation. I must have really hit my head hard. Stiles then moved his hand on my shoulder a little, beginning to guide me to turn around towards my car.
"No... I'm fine, really. Just have a headache", I pulled away from him.
"I highly doubt you are fine", Stiles rose his voice, "You were laughing manically one second, and then suddenly moaning and holding your head the next", he lectured, "You shouldn't be behind the wheel right now."
"I said, I'm fine", I grunted stubbornly.
"Why won't you let us help you!", he snapped, eyes piercing through me in frustration.
"I'm not concussed enough to let you and your wolf buddies know where I'm staying", I replied, not having the energy to hold any bit to my words anymore. All I want is my inflatable mattress, my fat pillow and my woolly blanket.
"Deaton said you can trust us", he breathed out exasperated, "They're not going to sneak into your house and slash your throat in your sleep!"
"I'm actually considering doing that before she does the same to us", Derek mumbled from the side, no sarcasm evident in his voice at all. His arms were now folded over his chest, his face returning to its usual scowl.
"Not helping, Derek", Stiles breathed out tiredly, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he glared at the werewolf.
Lifting a brow at Stiles, I was practically saying see-what-I-mean? So Stiles returned it with a he-was-obviously-kidding expression.
I groaned, not bothered to argue anymore so I just dug my keys from my pocket and muttered, "Goodnight, boys", before turning my back to them and making my way towards my car.
"Stormy...", Stiles tried calling after me.
"Don't follow me. I'm way too tired for a car chase", I called back, not bothering to turn around.
Unlocking the Bronco, I slid into the drivers seat with a sigh. The soft upholstery gave me the comfort I needed to relax my tense muscles a little before I turned on the ignition and high tailed it out of there.