A/N: Hey guys, this story is going on hold since there's a lack of reviews and I honestly don't know what you're thinking of the story at the moment. I posted the last chapter, got tons of alerts for it but no reviews. I'm sorry but I crave your opinions. There isn't any Sterek fluff in this chapter but it's definitely coming in the next chapter and when that comes out relies on the readers. More reviews=faster updates

I'm in college and though I should be focusing on my school work I make time to write fanfiction. What I'm not going to do is rush the story but I honestly think it'll be worth the wait when Sterek actually happens later on. You don't have to write me a paragraph, just two little at least. I love you all so far for a total of 18 reviews, 37 favorites and 66 alerts. I just honestly want to know if you're enjoying the story so far, plot etc. or if I should just scarp and write something else.

Finally this story can be found on Archive of Our Own but I think you need to have an account to see it . . . maybe. You can leave kudos there. This story currently has 4.

Well enjoy Chapter 9 of Where Love Can Save Us!

How long had it been since they'd arrived? Ten minutes? An hour or maybe two? It was hard to say. For how long he and Allison had been sitting outside his room waiting he didn't know. Even then it was harder to sit still and wait for any news on the other's condition, good or bad. The suspense was practically eating Scott from the inside out, the constant tapping of his heel against the floor increasing. He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned over and covered his face in his hands. This was entirely his fault. He should have been more cautious for Stiles' sake . . . The one time Stiles needed him, Scott wasn't there. What kind of friend was he? A rotten one, one who was lucky enough to even have friend like Stiles, a friend to put up with whatever came their way. Now Stiles was in the hospital because of his stupid rotten friend. Was this all their friendship amounted to? Stop trying to be a hero Scott. You can't save everyone . . .

Then unexpectedly, someone's presence pulled him from his personal thoughts as Scott connected with his heightened senses. The man had just entered the hospital and was walking at a quick pace as he approached them. At the same time the doctor was slipping out of the room, Scott and Allison jumping on their feet immediately, the uneasiness feeling settling around them once more. Then the Sheriff of Beacon Hills was right there with them and at that moment Scott couldn't dare to look his best friend's father in the eye. Fortunate for him, he did not have the Sheriff's attention. Sheriff Stilinski was focused on a bigger problem.

The doctor addressed the Sheriff first. "Are you Stiles Stilinski's father?"

"Yes," Sheriff Stilinski answered. He'd looked like he'd just seen a ghost and it stung to hear him further question the doctor with nervousness dripping off every word. "What happened? Is my son alright?"

To this the doctor was reluctant to answering Mr. Stilinski's question as his eyes settled on the two teens nearby. There wasn't going to be any good news. The look the doctor gave Mr. Stilinski said it all, a look of pity. "I think we should speak in private on the matter of your son's condition, if that's alright with you Mr. Stilinski."

Mr. Stilinski knew as well from the doctor's suggestion that it wasn't anything good to hear, his eyes falling to the floor as the realization hit him. Yet he still agreed and followed the doctor down the hall to head to a different area and discuss in private what had become of his son. As they left Scott and Allison behind, the two teens looked through the blinds of the very room their friend occupied.

"You know Stiles really hates hospitals," Scott mentioned, the pain clear in his voice. "He told me that he hates the smell of antiseptics and plastic because it reminds him of his mother, reminds him of her lying on that same bed as he and his father watched her die slowly. Now he's here in the very place he hates the most and it's all because of me."

"Scott, you know that's not it case," disagreed Allison but Scott wasn't listening.

"But I'm still wondering why," Scott mused. "Of all people, why Stiles?"

The sight of Scott was heartbreaking to Allison and she could see the pain the teen wolf burdened was unbearable but he had to understand that this was not his to bear alone. So Allison begged, "Scott please don't do this. Do you honestly think it's all your fault Stiles is here? Stiles wouldn't blame you for this so why are you blaming yourself and only yourself? I mean I'm as much to blame as you are."

Scott could not answer her for words alone had failed him but he didn't need to, his body language and sorrow filled features were enough. Slowly but surely Allison pulled him in closer to her, Scott never rejecting her. Their arms wrapped around the other's body almost by instinct as they meshed together in a simple embrace and they remained that way for some time. At a time like this, Scott was grateful for the simple fact that he wasn't alone and struggling with coping but that didn't make it easier, it just made it a little more bearable, barely.

By the time they had separated from each other Scott caught sight of the Sheriff heading back from down the hall. He didn't look good as he drew closer to them, stumbling a bit over his own two feet, but he managed. The stench of sweat and the unbearable smell of fear had never been so overwhelming to Scott's senses as it rolled off the Sheriff's body. There wasn't much Scott say to his friend's father that he felt would make the situation any but better, he couldn't even apologize because they would only serve as empty words with no meaning. So he remained quiet as he stood alongside Allison. That was until the Sheriff acknowledged him.

"Scott," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. "I don't understand what happened exactly. You know Stiles has never had a seizure but why now?"

Should he tell Sheriff Stilinski the truth? Should he tell the father of his friend that his son was injected with Alpha werewolf blood and if his body didn't accept it he could very well die? Sheriff Stilinski had every right to know what was happening to his son. What right did Scott have to keep such vital information a secret from the very person who needed it the most? He should tell Sherff Stilinski everything . . . but he can't. With a heavy heart, Scott looked the Sheriff in the eye and did what he did best. He lied. "I don't know why either. Did the doctor say something?"

Sheriff nodded his head in understanding before heading over and holding open the door to Stiles' room. "The doctor said we could visit so let's talk inside."

Scott hesitated at first to enter but with an encouraging discreet push from Allison the two moved inside with Sheriff Stilinski following after they had passed. The door shut and the room grew quiet with the exception of the heart beat monitor beeping at a normal rate and other hospital instruments hooked up. Stiles lay in his bed, the only motion being the steady rise and fall of his chest. Scott took note that one of Stiles's hand had been bandaged up, little bits of bruises and discoloration on his skin peeking from underneath. Werewolf strength . . . he should have been more aware, more careful.

Sheriff was the first to grab a chair nearby and place it near his son's bedside, taking a seat slowly as he took a deep breath and looked over his son. Scott and Allison stood on the opposite side together, no words being exchanged as they watched the sheriff. Though a bit shaky Stiles's father managed to take one of his hands, the one not injured, into his own, a glossy look forming in his eyes as he tried to hold back tears. He tried to remain strong, taking another deep breath before sharing the news.

"They say Stiles is stable but . . . they can't find a reason for . . . why he's being unresponsive," the Sheriff explained, as he tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat, a tear leaving a wet slick trail down his cheek as his hand tightened around Stiles'. "They think that . . . oh god, the doctor thinks that . . . Stiles slipped into a coma."

Surprisingly the sheriff laughed, but it was incredulous and painfully raw as though he could not come to terms with the news he had just heard, with what he had just said in his own voice. Scott and Allison remained quiet as the sheriff brushed away fallen tears. He tried to continue while he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb into the back of his son's hand. "They don't know when he'll wake up . . ."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"Class is dismissed." Upon that announcement students proceeded to collect their belongings and gather their books as they left class. No one was fast enough to beat Scott McCall to the door first but then again he had somewhere to be. There had been no word from the sheriff on Stiles' condition, no sigh as to whether the teen had suddenly sprung back to life, laughing and claiming it had all been a joke and they blindly fell for it. That's what Scott was hoping for at least. The teen wolf was at his locker now, not really paying much attention to what he was putting in and taking out of his book bag because his mind was elsewhere. Memories from yesterday had been flashing through his mind constantly.

He and Allison had left early so Stiles and his father could be alone and not long after they left he could hear soft broken sobs erupt from the older man with sorrow filled pleas following afterwards. "God . . . Please don't take my son."

The following morning his mom greeted him with a hug because words were not enough to console. Scott's mother explained how the sheriff refused to leave even after visiting hours. Who could blame him? They didn't dispute over his stay for long and let it go for just that night. With a heavy sigh, Melissa McCall remarked, "That poor man has been through a lot, I feel terrible. First his wife's death and now Stiles is in a coma. It's hard, it truly is. I can't fathom how much pain he's feeling right now. Scott, I can't imagine how you feel either but just know I'm here, okay baby?"

"I know Mom."

"Good," Melissa smiled sadly. "You should visit Stiles. I'm sure Mr. Stilinski would appreciate the support. The doctor said when dealing with coma patients it's good to visit and talk to them casually."

"Alright, I'll go see him after school," Scott said.

Now here he was rushing to head to the hospital like he said he would earlier but for a quick second he was distracted. Someone had caught his eye but in doing so he felt the anger surge through his body at the sight of said person, his heart aflame. She walked by him casually, glancing his way for that brief moment and moving on. He could go after her, he had the chance to but what would he do? He was a werewolf, she was a hunter. There's no doubt she had some type of weapon on her person o defend herself at any moment. And if by some chance he was to overpower her then would beating her to a bloody pulp ever be enough? Would Stiles come out of his coma then? Scott slammed his locker door before leaning his forehead against the cold metal. He breathed in deeply through his nose before letting the air out slowly through his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he was able to watch Artemis continue down the hall until she reached the stairway and disappeared from his sight. Violence wasn't the answer here and would do nothing to benefit him or Stiles in any way.

With that final thought, Scott let it be and made his way out the school before heading to the hospital. He arrived there around fifteen minutes later and after signing in at the desk he was suddenly standing outside the room, hesitating. He felt as if there was a barrier building up between him and his best friend on the other side of the door, his eyes locked on the doorknob. Oddly enough he began to wonder if he should have come here in the first place, if he deserved to even be near Stiles. Doubt began to settle in his mind. He couldn't protect everyone but he could have at least had the courtesy to protect someone who's been by his side. And maybe Stiles wouldn't want to be near him in the first place-

"Scott?"

"Uh . . .," Scott dragged out with a blink of his eyes, looking surprised as if he just been caught doing something illegal. "Hey Sheriff."

"Hey Scott, it's nice of you to visit," Sheriff Stilinski said softly with sniffle of his nose. The Sheriff's eyes were red and puffy, he'd been crying. With a nod of his head to the side as a gesture he said, "You can come inside, no point in you standing around right? It's a good thing you're here too. I was just heading out so it'd be nice if you could watch him for me. Let me know if anything happens."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Scott agreed before slipping pass the other man as he entered the room. The sound of the door closing signaled Sheriff Stilinski's departure. Scott looked around the room then. Nothing had changed and Stiles still remained, laying there on his bed, looking as if he were only sleeping. Talk . . . He was supposed to talk to him. What should he say to him? Scott found this to be harder than he thought, choosing the right words to say. He slowly walked over to where the sheriff had been sitting previously and took a seat. Should he take Stiles' hand? Should he not? Well he should talk to him first but what should he say? What could he say? A minute passed as Scott sat there while looking over his best friend, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and listening to the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor.

"Hey Stiles . . . its Scott," he said slowly, mentally facepalming himself for sounding like he leaving a voice message for someone who didn't answer there phone. "Um . . . The doctor said you slipped into a coma and that . . . we should try talking to you. I'm not very good at this but I'm still hoping you can hear me at the very least. But I'm not sure if you can."

No answer from Stiles, not that he was expecting one. Nevertheless, Scott pushed on. "Your dad just left." He mentioned, "Said he was headed out for a few minutes so I'm supposed to watch you. But I don't know what we're supposed to talk about really. School, maybe? It was alright today, not the same without you. But hey! You don't have any homework man! That's good right? Well actually I'm the one who doesn't do their homework . . . But um . . . I saw Lydia today and she hopes you wake up soon. Maybe I'll get her to visit you man, you guys could finally have some one-on-one alone time. You'd probably like that right, a good time? I know you would." Suddenly talking got easier and Scott found himself rambling on about school life with a few jokes here and there on the side, talking about anything that could make it seem like they were actually having a conversation. He actually laughed a bit here and there though it was a little strained because he didn't know if Stiles could hear him or not. He was still wishing there was some sign Stiles could give just to say that he could hear everything pouring out of Scott's mouth. That's when he felt a hot tear rolling down his cheek and he bit down on his bottom lip as he tried to hold the rest back. He took a deep breath as he rest a hand over Stiles'.

"Talking about what's happening outside really makes me wish you weren't in here and it's my fault you here in the first place, isn't it? I put your father through so much pain as well and . . . God, it's not fair. This is entirely my fault. You'd probably deny it for my sake though, wouldn't you Stiles? . . . You're a good friend for that. But that doesn't change the fact that I wasn't there to protect you and . . . I'm so sorry Stiles. I'm sorry for everything. I'm trying to help everyone but I can't do it by myself even with these werewolf powers. I got so ahead of myself I didn't realize my own limits. I should have been focused on those close to me. If I had we'd probably be outside now practicing lacrosse . . . doing whatever. God, Stiles . . . . I'm sorry but I promise to make it up to you so please . . . open your eyes. Please wake up Stiles," Scott begged, his voice cracking on the last word as he tried to hold down a sob, tasting the saltiness of his tears as they rolled over the corners of his mouth. For the rest of the time there was only silence as Scott calmed down, still holding onto his best friend's hand.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A week had gone by since that day and nothing had changed much. The sheriff had taken off from his duties to stay by his son's side from the minute visiting hours began and all the way until they ended. Scott visited when he could, sometimes he would visit with his mother. Other people appeared to move on with their lives as if nothing had happened. Allison now sat at the dinner table, chewing on some casserole quietly. Since Stiles had been hospitalized, Allison had become a mute in her own household. No matter how many times her parents or Gerard had tried to start up a conversation to relieve the awkwardness, she remained quiet. Yet every time she caught Artemis' eyes she would glare at her openly, no shame behind it because in her mind Artemis deserved anything coming her way.

Artemis wore a stoic expression on her face and it didn't faze her one little bit when Allison gave her that look. She then excused herself from the table first with a small smile before dropping her dishes off in the sink and heading upstairs. She wanted to take a quick shower before heading out for a little trip tonight. Stepping into the guest room she now occupied, Artemis rummaged through for a fresh set of clothes, tossing the outfit on the bed before opening a closet from across and pulling out a towel and wash cloth. Heading into the bathroom she locked the door and proceeded to shower. She stepped in a moment, the hot drops of water splashing off her caramel skin as she adjusted the shower head while she slide the shower door close. She let her hair get soaked before raking the wet strands back with her fingers. As she washed herself she began to think. She began to think about the event from a week ago, more specifically she thought about him. What did they call him? It was something weird. It started with an S. Steve? No, that's normal.

Anyway, she had heard the news that the boy had suddenly fallen into a coma. A coma wasn't a good sign and the chances of the boy being a Seeker had basically plummeted. Gerard didn't ask many questions on it after she explained what became of the one person who had been injected, which in it of itself was odd. Gerard was planning something again, she could feel it. If that boy didn't wake up, the rest of them would be in a whole shit load of trouble. There's got to be a way. Maybe she was missing something or she could try something. That's why she was heading out tonight, to look for other options or a way.

As Artemis turned the knob the water came to a halt. She stepped out the shower, wrapping her hair in a smaller towel while she dried her body and headed out the door. What she found in her room had caught her off guard, slightly. The young Argent female hunter sat on the edge of her bed, twisting a hunter's knife in her hand. It happened to Artemis' knife in fact. With a roll of her eyes, Artemis sighed. "You know I really don't have time for your petty threats right now."

"You know Stiles, the boy you shot, is the hospital right now?" Allison asked while she eyed the hunter's knife as she continued to rotate it in her hand, running a finger lightly over the blade. So that was his name. "You know he slipped into a coma right?"

"Anything new you're going to inform me of, sometime soon please?"

"No, I just want to know something," Allison said, glancing up. "How does it feel? How does it feel to know you probably ended someone life just because you were following orders? Do you feel anything at all? Are you that cold-hearted?"

When Artemis didn't answer, Allison kept going. "You know I don't understand how you can just walk around like everything is fine when it's not. It's not fair that you get to walk around and Stiles doesn't."

"What are you trying to pull here Allison? Get to the point already," Artemis let out. "You're upset over your little friend being in the hospital huh? Well guess what? If you hadn't interfered, maybe he'd still be walking around. But I'll understand if you want a scapegoat to make yourself feel like you were doing something right and I was the one who was wrong. I had orders to follow. It's as simple as that. So you can stop trying to play Oprah here and figure out how my mind works because you're not going to get very far."

"No." Allison explained, "I'm not trying to play anyone. I just wanted to see how you think. I wanted to see if I'm going to turn into some cold-hearted bitch like you who doesn't care about the innocent that get hurt, who just follows orders. Hunters were meant to protect those who remain in the dark about the supernatural world."

"Please Allison, dig yourself into a deeper hole. And while we're on the subject of cold-hearted bitches, why don't we consider your Aunt for a second then?" Artemis pointed out.

"That's low, even for you."

"No I don't think it's low," Artemis mused to herself with a bite of her bottom lip. "I just think if we're discussing on the topic of cold-hearted bitches, you're Aunt, Kate Argent, is a perfect example. She didn't have any orders on killing an entire family of werewolves and human, now did she?"

Allison stood abruptly, her fingers twitching around the knife as if she would try to harm Artemis right then and there. But she didn't. Instead she tossed the weapon on the bed and made her way over to the door to exit. Before leaving, she had one last say. "You can talk all you want about my Aunt but she's in the past and what matters now it the present and my friend is presently in the hospital because of you. You're not human if you feel absolutely nothing over what you did to him."

Without another word, Allison left, leaving Artemis to her thoughts once again. Guess I'm not human after all then.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"Hey Stiles, I have to go now. I'll see you again tomorrow, bright and early bud." Standing up from the chair, jacket in hand, the older Stilinski leaned placed a kiss on his son's forehead. It was always hard for him to leave. He wanted to be there just in case, he wanted to be there for a sign, a twitch or stir of a finger. He was hopeful but as the days passed his hope was being to dwindle yet he didn't want to get used to this, this just wasn't the Stilinski way. Losing his wife was a great loss but seeing his son now, spending the rest of his life in a coma, would be unbearable. And here he was again, convincing himself to stay but he shook his head, came to his senses and headed over to the door. He paused and looked back over his son. After shutting the lights off the father left quietly. As he headed down the hallway, Sheriff Stilinski remained unaware of the shadow lurking by that slipped into the room just as the door closed.

The room still remained quiet as the figure emerged near the bedside. Only a hood barely hid the upper half of said person's face as they looked over the boy in bed. Removing a dark glove, long slender finger slid over Stiles' hand. Leaning in closer, lips parted as words feel off the tongue. "Hey Stiles . . . It is Stiles right? Can you hear me? Do you remember me?"

Suddenly the heart monitor's steady rhythm had been disrupted, beeping a lot faster than the normal rate. "So you can hear me and you do remember. I'm flattered," teased the person. "But I need you to listen to me, not that you have much of a choice. I think you might be a Seeker but I don't know yet for sure. I'm going to do you a favor and if it works you should wake up. What you have to understand is that once you do wake up a lot will happen, not just to you. You know Gerard's plan and you know the second he finds out your Seeker he's coming for you. But most of all you're going to have to trust me on this. I know it sounds a bit cliché with the current circumstances we're in . . . But I'm not your enemy."