Hello people and here is chapter eight. And yes, I've just thrown all hopes of a plot out, because it's not going to happen! This is just going to be spontaneous all the way. I'd like to thank the reviewers. Colorful-POP: This is what Derek did! Jag013: thanks for the review! Angelofthewater: Yes, I have been told about cliffhangers, but sometimes for the sake of the story, you've got to think nasty. Lol. Comicfan: Sorry for killing you there. I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Derek's place. Thanks for the review!
Chapter Eight: Anger
No one really seemed to notice me. Argent was chatting with Stilinski, and Kate was studying an overhead menu. No one ever paid attention to Stiles, but it was just as well. Kate. I could swear I was seeing in red wolf vision. My heartbeat was loud in my ears. I'd been raised better than to consider eating human flesh, but I was almost willing to make an exception for her. It would be satisfying to rip out her heart and squeeze it to pulp between my jaws.
"Stiles!"
I turned my glare to the sheriff. He blinked in surprise at my expression, and muttered, "I was just talking to Chris about that cougar attack."
Argent looked at me with interest, "did it bite you?"
Across the room, I noticed Kate turn slightly in my direction.
I stared at Argent, hoping that somehow I could burn a hole through his head. Then I very slowly raised my upper lip, but it wasn't to smile. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious," He shifted his position. Kate took a step towards the table.
"Funny how you just happen to be concerned now,"
"Stiles, it hasn't ever been an hour yet." The Sheriff muttered, taking the pill bottle from his pocket. "He hasn't been himself since the attack." Damn straight. He fished out one on the pills and passed it across the table to me. "You take that."
My focus staid on Argent's forehead, while I ground the pill to dust with my thumb, "Apparently I have anger management issues." I swept away the residue. "Do you get angry, Argent? Angry enough to kill?"
His right hand disappeared deep into his jacket pocket and Kate twisted her arm around her back.
"Not humans of course," I continued, "just animals, maybe cougars… Or wolves."
"Wow Kay," Stilinski exhaled, "I think that's enough sundae for you." He turned to Argent, "I'm really sorry Chris, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Once he flies off the handle like this, it takes me awhile to calm him down."
Argent kept his gaze on me, "Alright," he said, "I hope you feel better, Stiles. Let's go, Kate."
"Our ice coffee isn't ready yet," She complained.
Argent started towards the door, "I said, let's go."
Reluctantly, she followed. She wanted to take care of me right then and there. I could tell from the way her shoulders tensed and her hand lingered on the protrusion from her back waistband. I wanted her dead just as badly. Why had I drained the venom from Stiles' arm? Kate turned to look at me before going outside. She flashed a white smile and winked. "See you around, Stiles."
I passed the wink back, "my place next time."
For a second her face whitened, then she jerked open the door and left.
"What is wrong with you, Stiles?!" the sheriff exclaimed.
I laid my head down on the table top, almost upsetting the half full sundae cup. "I feel awful, Dad," I groaned, "I think I'm hallucinating or something." Stiles' body might not have been able to hear decently or grow claws, but it could manage a pretty good gassy burp. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Oh G-d,"
"Is he OK?" the cashier squeaked, holding up a serving tray like a shield. "There's a bathroom down the hall, or maybe you should let him get some fresh air outside?" From her tone she obviously preferred me leaving.
I did too. I stood up shakily, and then bolted through the door with Stilinski at my heels.
The Argents were talking by their car. I caught the end of conversation. "You're sure?" Chris asked. Kate nodded, "we found our second Beta." Then they both shut up and watched me.
I leaned against the stores' brick wall and panted, going through the whole 'sick kid' routine for Stilinski.
"Stiles?" He asked.
I started to slide down the wall and groaned, "I feel awful."
The sheriff had his phone out, dialing. "Sit down," he ordered me, "put your head between your knees and breathe. I'm going to pull the car around." He jogged off into the parking lot, casting glances over his shoulder, "Don't you faint on me."
Slowly, I lowered myself to the ground and stared at the Argents. They started to whisper excitedly between themselves. Kate looked especially happy. The police cruiser pulled up and cut off my view. Stilinski got out of the driver's side. He was shouting into the phone.
"Why the hell would you give him medication to cure aggression that one of the side effects of is aggression? Where's the point in that?!" The other person on the line said something, but the sheriff wouldn't listen, "I'm bringing him in, and you'd better have a better explanation by the time I get there!" He cut off the call with a fierce thumb stoke.
"Come on, Stiles." He bent down next to me and helped me too my feet. I let him guide me over to the passenger's side. Once he got in, he rolled down my window. I folded Stiles' body against the car seat and rested my head against the window frame t to watch the Argents. Chris had his phone out, and Kate was antsy, fingering the car door handle.
The sheriff started up the car, and with the alarm blaring, he drove to the hospital. "Damned stupid medication," he ranted, "I swear I've had it with proscribed drugs," a quick glance was thrown my way. "When this is all over, Stiles, we're switching to herbal stuff."
I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes.
"Hang on kiddo. We're almost at the hospital."
Suddenly, I clutched at the armrest, "pull over, Dad," I wheezed. I sat up and covered my mouth.
"Stick your head out the window, Stiles."
A sickening noise came from the back of my throat, and black spots distorted my vision. "Dad," I said in a whisper I was sure went right out the window, "I need you to stop and pull over." He grunted. It was suddenly hard to breathe. My pulse shot up. "Dad!" I rasped, "Dad, something's wrong!"
Stilinski slowed the car and looked over at me, "Stiles…"
A spew of sundae and stomach acid erupted from my mouth. My hands were coved in the hot sticky mess as it streaked down my shirt and onto the car's floor.
"G-d, Stiles." The sheriff breathed. I could feel the cruiser speeding up.
My body heaved again, hard. But there was something wrong with the vomit. It tasted too metallic. Damn, it was as black as pitch. "I'm bleeding." The sheriff shouted something, but I couldn't hear it. The siren quieted to a whimper. My eyes were spinning, everything distorted. I passed out. That seemed to be another thing Stiles' body was good at.
