Yay, back for a new chapter! Thank you guys for all the kind words and reviews, they made me smile :) I really hope you enjoy this chapter and keep looking out for the next one. I'm really hoping I can get my creative juices flowing enough to pump out a new chapter within the next few weeks so you guys aren't waiting forever and a day like the previous chapters.. Lots of love xx
Iris RainbowWolf: Thank you so much for your review! I'm really glad you like Leah because I love her and her relationships with the other characters too. I wish I could just pull her out of my screen so we could be best friends! Leah's friendship with Paige will come into play a lot more later on in the series and play a big part in her relationship with Derek also.
ElenaxoxoSilber: Thank you for the review! I miss writing for you guys just as much if not more! I cannot put into words how disappointed I am that Tyler Hoechlin is leaving Teen Wolf. He was definitely my absolute favourite character and one of the only remaining characters I really felt for other than Stiles and Lydia. You're definitely right in saying the show has gone downhill - in my opinion anyway - since S3 after the deaths of Allison, Boyd, Erica, Aiden and even Jennifer. The characters were really complex and could've have amazing storylines but instead were cut short :( In saying that, I totally respect Tyler's decision to leave the show and branch out into movies and such, and wish him the best of luck!
PetalsOfSin: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far! I absolutely love writing it and hope you continue reading as the story progresses. May I ask why you called Leah stupid though? :D
Stargazer1364: Thank you so much! It makes me smile to know you enjoy the way I write - even if I hate it! I try and deviate from the original script a little bit throughout the chapter because as much as I enjoy the show and it's comedic moments, I needed to find a way to fit Leah into the quirky town of Beacon Hills and further develop her relationships with the other characters.
Disclaimer: I don't own Derek Hale, so no. *sigh*
"Shit!"
If I wasn't such good friends with Sheriff Stilinski, I would've been worried about getting a parking ticket. I mean, I probably should've been considering I had an unconscious werewolf bleeding to death in the backseat and if I happened to get pulled over somehow, I'd probably be convicted of attempted murder. Somehow though, I couldn't force myself to care about anything other than Derek dying. It had been hell getting him into his own car which was less than a few yards away, I can't even begin to imagine how hard it would've been if I tried dragging him across the lot.
The street was quiet when I stormed into the driveway, basically throwing myself out of the driver's seat and to Derek in the back. With a very great amount of effort, I manage to pull Derek out of the seat, a slick trail of blood left in his path. I have no idea what I'm going to do with Derek when I finally do get him upstairs, seeing as though I'm about as useless as a screen door on a submarine when it comes to anything even remotely medical, but I force myself to lift more and push my legs harder so Derek doesn't die and so Mrs. Wilkinson, the geriatric woman across the street doesn't have a heart attack.
The blood that stains my bedsheets and floor is garish in comparison to the dull yellow walls and boring white furniture. I'm suddenly very glad I didn't redecorate before school started up again like I was planning. My arms ache in places they've never ached before and my legs feel they're about to collapse from under me. Please remind me to never ever carry a werewolf anywhere, it sure as hell takes a lot out of a girl. I sort of just pace around my room for a bit, biting my nails nervously and thinking about the possible things I could do at this moment in time.
Get some supplies and try and stitch Derek up. It seems like the most appropriate action and I'm pretty sure mom has to have an emergency first aid kit stashed somewhere in the house, but knowing me I'll poke a hole in a major artery or something dumb that only I could do.
Call an ambulance and get professional medical help. In terms of actually helping Derek out, it seems like the smartest idea. Then again, the doctors would more than likely be extremely confused as to why the unconscious patient is somehow healing wounds independently. Maybe not, doesn't sound like the best idea.
Lay down and die. While it sounds very tempting, no.
I go with the first option - obviously, I'm not an idiot - and book it into mum's room, tearing through cupboards and closets for any sort of medical supplies she's stashed. I finally find them in the form of a needle, thread and bandages in the highest cupboard in her bathroom. Making it back into my room, I strip off my bloodstained tank top. There's a splatter on my jeans too, but nothing in comparison to the bloody mess that is Derek Hale at the moment. I use some little scissors I found to cut open the front of his shirt after I peel off his jacket, which quite literally has claw marks shredding the back, and oh my god, it's so much worse than I thought. There's so much blood I can't see the creamy skin I know is underneath, and the skin I can see is torn open hideously. It takes all I can to not barf up the human-sized amount of coffee I inhaled.
I'm no nurse, but I tried my best and am not 100% disappointed with my job like I thought I'd be.
About three bowls of water, a whole pack of bandages, four broken needles, a dwindling roll of string and two and a half packs of cotton pads later, Derek is looking better. Still like he could fall into pieces, but better. He hardly stirred while I poked and prodded at his wounds, keeping a straight face and staying dead to the world the entire time, but I really am seriously considering burning my sheets from the amount of blood that's accumulated on them.
I don't actually realise I'm only in my bra until Derek awakes not twenty minutes after I've patched him up. I've still got two fingers pressed to his neck in search of a pulse and a bottle of water at the ready - I know he'll be thirsty after losing what appeared to be half his blood supply - so I don't really notice when Derek's eyes widen in surprise because I'm shocked he's actually alive and moving around. Moving slowly, but moving at least. "Bit hot are you?" He asks and I'm not sure how I didn't burst into flames from embarrassment right then and there. It's not one of my nicest bras unfortunately, it's old and over worn but it's the only white one i've got not in the wash, and my tattoo is on full display as well.
He doesn't say anything about it though, thank goodness, and I don't bother running to the bathroom to pull on a loose sweater seeing as though he's already seen everything and then some. He grabs the bottle from my bedside table and gulps it down greedily, a hand splayed to his wounds as if to hold himself together. He wipes a dribble of water off his chin and groans softly. "You did this?"
"Hey, seeing as though I can barely re-sew a button onto a shirt, I think I did a great job re-sweing you back together. Thank you very much."
He smiles faintly sitting up despite the awful groaning of my bed under his weight and the sure-fire pain ripping through his body. The stitches on his back aren't as good as the ones on his front - I had to get used to the feeling a quite literally putting someone back together - but if I look closely enough, I can see the skin threading itself back together. I vaguely hear Derek say 'sorry about the blood' but I'm too focused on the magnificence of being able to heal like that to notice. It really is amazing. "It's okay," I reply even though I'm not sure he actually said anything about it. "Don't worry about the sheets or anything, I was going to redecorate in here anyway so.. But yeah, I'm just glad you're okay."
"Do you have a- uh.." Derek just gestures to his very naked torso and I feel silly for not realising earlier that he would need a new shirt.
Mom always used to buy Scott plain t-shirts in bulk when things went on sale when I was little. We were usually more than a little tight for money seeing as though mom was the sole provider of the household, Scott was too young any of my poor earnings went to replacing the cello in which I stupidly 'broke'. There's a little box of spare t-shirts and singlets too many sizes too big for Scott - maybe more fitting now due to the whole werewolf thing - under his bed, and I pull out the largest one I can find. Derek can't really put the shirt on himself (surprise, surprise) so I stand between his legs and pull it gently over his head, his hands gripping at my hips lightly when the fabric snares on his sensitive skin.
"Scott and Stiles: where are they now?"
"They're stuck at the school. The alpha has them trapped there." I gulped from the floor, cleaning up the mess I made while cleaning up Derek. "They distracted him so I could get away. They may have just sacrificed themselves to save me." A lone tear trails down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly, pulling myself off the floor and down into the kitchen. I can hear Derek coming behind me.
"I doubt it." He mutters, pulling the shirt over his head. "I have this theory that the Alpha wants to recruit Scott, so what good does it do to trap him in the school and kill him. It doesn't make sense. Stiles, though, I don't know about him." Derek is surprisingly honest about his opinion, seeing as though how only a day or two ago he was lying directly to my face about Kate and not knowing her.
"I need to go back."
Derek looks like he wants to tell me not to go, but keeps his mouth shut while I slip on my jacket and shoes. "Stay here." I tell him sternly. If he stays here I know that he won't be getting attacked by the Alpha again tonight and I can check on him and his wounds again, even though I know by the time i come back - if I even do - the wounds will be non-existent, the only tell of anything ever being there being his shredded jacket and a bag chock full of bloody cotton pads.
Despite the maybe impending death of my baby brother and best friend, I drive back to the school considerably slower in comparison to how I drove from there. Perhaps it's the possibility of my death, or of not liking what I find there, I don't find myself in a hurry to make it back. The key that opens the main doors feels like lead in my pocket and acts as an anchor to the outside when I pull into the parking lot. It looks the same as it did when I arrived this morning and when the kids left in the afternoon and if anyone were to drive by at this moment in time, I wouldn't blame them for thinking everything was fine at the school.
Because it sure as hell looked like it.
I figured that the longer I stayed outside, sitting like a waiting duck, the worse chance Scott and Stiles had of getting out of here alive. I pushed my fear into the back of my mind - which trust me, was very hard - and swallowed heavily, letting myself into the cool, dark hallway. My heart was beating so fast and loud, I wouldn't be surprised if the Alpha could hear it. All I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears and.. Scott's sneakers squeaking lightly on the linoleum. I had never been more thankful for those stupid shoes.
I ran the way I thought led to Scott, which led me to the gym.
The gym was insanely dark, considering the only actual light source was the moon casting eerie shadows and pictures on the walls. I listened in silence as the squeaking of Scott's shoes ceased. A minute, then two passed and it had me wondering whether my ears had led me astray. And that's when I heard the roar. A loud, animalistic, guttural thing that had be shaking in my boots, literally. I could hear the Alpha snarling and growling, and Scott's cries of terror and pain. They were like a kickstart in my brain, throwing me forward and into the dimly lit gym.
"Scott!" I yelled. He was thrown into the middle of the gym and the Alpha was on top of him in milliseconds. I cupped my hands over my mouth. His claws grasped Scott's face, his eyes turning golden. The Alpha's head rose up from being centimeters away from ripping Scott's throat out. A loud, ground-shaking howl pierced the air. Then, he disappeared. Scott immediately sat up but began arching his back in pain; something that looked like it belonged in an exorcist movie.
"Scott?" I called, extremely worried. He began screaming in pain. Since the Alpha had disappeared, I ran over to Scott and tried to help him. He was flailing his arms and legs everywhere."Scott!" I cried again. He lifted his head up, his golden eyes filled with pain. But his head fell once more when he arched himself as if his spine was breaking. Before I could do anything else, I felt a blow to my side and I skidded backwards. My eyes opened to find the Alpha standing on two feet, bellowing a roar.
Scott's head snapped up, golden eyes connecting with mine. A snarl erupted through his lips, fingernails shifting into claws, as he got to his feet and stalked his way over to me like a predator. I scrambled to my feet, taking off into a slight run before Scott pulled one of my feet from underneath me. My chin slammed painfully into the wooden floor, and the taste of blood flooded my mouth almost instantly. He flipped me over in milliseconds, slashing his claws across my stomach, the blood staining my freshly-changed tank top.
Jutting my knee upwards, I was successful in partially disabling my crazy brother and making him about 10 times more pissed off. Using the few seconds I had without Scott's weight crushing me, I shoved him off me and took off into a run, clutching the tattered remains of my shirt.
My vision was becoming blurry and if I had taken the time to glance down at my hands they would have been stained with red; my own blood. I could hear Scott's thundering footsteps behind me as I sprinted up the stairs, struggling to remember the way I came. I recognized the area nearby the music room and scrambled to open a random door.
Scott reached for my hand clutching the doorknob and threw me backwards against another door, the sickening crunch of my head colliding with the wood echoing in the emptiness. I fell forwards, my bloodied hands slipping against the linoleum. Scott flipped me again, leaning over to growl in my face. His canines were long and sharp - easily able to tear me to shreds - and his breath reeked of blood and flesh. For what reason I didn't know. I grunted in frustration, trying to push him backwards by his neck and shoulders.
"Scott, stop!" My blood stained his shirt. "You need to stop this! The- the Alpha is making you do this. I'm your sister, Leah, and your hurting me. I need you to come back!" Still, nothing. "Think of Allison! Think of how happy she makes you, when she hugs you or- or kisses you! Think of her!"
Scott eyes flashed between gold and their natural brown and he sat back on his heels. He panted heavily, and I moved back slowly on her hands and feet. Scott looked up, his eyes dimming to brown. A tear found its way down my cheek as I met his eyes, and scrambled to my feet to run away.
Everything was a blurry mess.
Multiple people talked, tape unrolled quickly, a cold wind whipped my shoulders and harsh police lights flashed in the night. Quick work was being done to dress the gaping wound in my side and an impatient police officer questioned me relentlessly.
"If you don't need any pain killers we should be done." A young EMT said.
"It's okay, I can't mix my anxiety medication with anything else but, thank you anyway." All of the afternoon, before Scott tried to re-enact Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I'd been unable to get my mind to stray from anything other than the letter weighing down my bag. I knew the pills wouldn't get to work right away or really help me when my brain was already fried and overtired but I popped one in hopes that I could focus on anything but the guy I was forced to call 'dad'. It seemed so insignificant and stupid now. Funny how things could change so fast.
"Thank you!" The police officer basically cheered as the EMT walked away. "Now, do you agree with the statement made by Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski that the attacker was Derek Hale?" The policeman questioned.
"No." I harshly stated, "I don't know who it was. But I don't think it was Derek." That was a lie. I knew for a fact that it wasn't Derek who attacked the school - seeing as though I was patching him up not too long ago - and it made me think back to how he was doing back at my house. If he was even still there. Being attacked by my baby brother and running out of the school pretty much bleeding to death had erased any thoughts about anything but 'what the hell just happened?'. I also had no idea why Scott and Stiles would say it was Derek and I'd have to interrogate Stiles as soon as I got out of here.
"Then who was it?" He asked, playing twenty questions.
"Like I said, I don't know who it was. I never saw him."
"So you never saw who or what gave you the nasty gash on your side?" He asked cockily.
"No for fucks sake! I didn't see who it was."
The officer started to say something but stopped when a voice rung out from the walkie-talkie in his belt. "Smith to Tyler, nothing in the gym. All clear, should we move out?" He exited the ambulance to answer.
"I think I owe you a raise." I heard a voice say from the ambulance beside her. I turned slowly to see Deaton - what the hell is he doing here? - talking to Scott and Stiles. The sight of Scott almost made me cower in fear. I shouldn't be scared, this was the boy I grew up with, watched waddle around in diapers, I was talking about.
When they finally noticed me, they came barreling over.
"God Leah, are you okay?" Stiles asked.
"Please get him away from me." I whispered. Stiles looked to Scott in shock, then back to me. I thought I could do it. I really did. But the sight of his just reminds me of the cold, indifferent look in his eyes, his inability to control himself even though it was me. That Allison brought him back, not the fact that he was hurting me. "I don't want him near me right now, please just- please get him away." Scott's head dropped in sorrow, as he began walking away, then noticed Allison and went running off.
"Bit harsh don't you think?"
"He nearly fucking killed me Stiles, I don't-"
"You're getting them again aren't you?" Stiles interrupted.
"What?"
"I overheard you and the EMT. Anxiety medication?. You're getting them again." He repeated.
"Stiles, God please don't- Stiles-" I stammered her heart plummeting as Stiles turned and walked away from me.
"Stiles."
"Stiles!"
Stiles' disappointed look burned the insides of my eyelids, threatening tears to spill down my cheeks. An officer had to drive Scott and I home - a most uncomfortable experience - and all I wanted to do was make sure Derek was okay, then kick him out so I could cry myself to sleep. Who was I kidding? Sleep was almost a lost cause now, because whenever my eyes drifted shut on the drive home, I saw gory flashes of blood and canines and golden eyes. Yep, no sleep for me.
Beelining to my room, I expect to find Derek asleep or waiting impatiently with his customary brooding look. But I'm met with an empty room and a giant pool of blood. I check under the bed, the bathroom, everywhere but all I find is a bloody trail leading towards the window. If Derek was bleeding again, something must've happened and he must be in a worse condition than before.
Not only did Scott almost kill me, not only was Stiles very, very angry at me and not only was my dad trying to contact me again, but now Derek was gone and presumably dead.
Just great.
