11.
Allison turns from the window where she's keeping watch to see Lydia climbing out of bed.
"Lydia?" she asks. Lydia hums to herself, and doesn't acknowledge her. Allison eyes her carefully as she goes to the dresser and starts to empty out their clothes into a duffle bag. "Lydia?" she asks again. Lydia finishes with their clothes stuffing everything into one bag indiscriminately. She moves to the small night stand by the bed. She collects ipods, and other mementos into a nearby backpack, and doesn't look at Allison. Scott appears in the doorway, watching Lydia with concern.
"Lyds?" he says stepping into the room. At the sound of Scott's voice, Lydia's hands slow to a stop.
"Scott?" she says, turning to look at him. She looks out of it, detached, confused. Scott steps closer. "Scott, we have to pack. We have to go." She says softly.
"We have to wait for the guys, Lydia. Stiles, and Isaac, and Derek. They're in town. We can't leave without them," he says. She nods.
"They're going to need us. You should hurry. We have to go. Soon. We can't be late." Scott stares at her a minute longer, assessing, then turns to Allison.
"Check the other rooms. We're leaving." She does as ordered without hesitation. He turns to the open window, sticking his head outside and raising his voice speaks upward. "Kira? Keep watch. Shout if anything is coming," he orders.
"K!" Kira calls down from the roof. Scott takes up the duffle bag and heads downstairs, Lydia following behind, already humming quietly to herself once more.
"Bitten?" Derek asks. He reaches over his shoulder, trying to find it, but it's too low on his back. Stiles nods, hands blindly reaching for a chair to sit down in. Isaac swings his legs off the edge of the table, reaching for Derek's shoulder. He turns him around, inspecting the wound. Stiles hopes he's wrong, that it's a bullet graze or a stab wound from a knife or some other type of weapon. But Isaac goes pale, and his hands drop away instantly. Derek turns around, sees the look on Isaac's face and just knows. His face hardens, and he nods, looking away. "Bitten," he says, voice quiet but hard. There's a finality to it that makes Stiles want to cry. "Isaac, let me know when you can run. We need to move." He goes to the window overlooking Main Street and looks down, checking out the streets below for movement.
"Derek?" Stiles says. Derek doesn't look at him. He just moves back to the table. He packs up what has not been used from the first aid kit, and stuffs it into Stiles' backpack. He adds the canned goods and supplies from their box, and looks around as if trying to think. "Derek?" Stiles asks again. Derek looks at him then, and Stiles sees the panic. "Derek you could be fine. We don't know…" he trails off when Derek looks down and away.
"Isaac?" Derek asks. Isaac eyes him carefully, before nodding.
"I think I can run," he says. The wound is almost closed on his thigh. If he runs it will likely tear back open again, but Stiles doesn't say anything.
"Then let's go," Derek shoulders the bag, and starts for the door.
Isaac hops down off the table, reaching for his discarded machete. He wraps the belt and holster back around his waist buckling it into place, and then pulls his outer shirt back on. He stops at Stiles' chair and grips him by the shoulder.
"Come on, we have to go," he says softly. Stiles nods, and stands up, grabbing the messenger bag and his baseball bat on the way out.
Scott goes to his mother where she's in the kitchen. "We need to start boxing up the food supplies," he says. Melissa stops what she's doing, and steps up to the counter beside him. John rushes down the stairs a moment later, looking confused.
"Allison says we're leaving? When?" he asks. Scott turns to Lydia, watching as she goes in circles around the living room gathering up everyone's belongings into whatever bags she can find. Prada sits atop her pillow watching with confusion. Melissa starts opening cabinets, pulling down cans to rest on the counter.
"As soon as we're packed. Lydia says it has to be now."
Scott pulls out their water canisters, and starts filling them with well water from the tap. He wants to take as much safe drinking water as possible with them when they go.
"Stiles? Derek and Isaac?" John asks. He's helping Melissa load canned goods into boxes, emptying out the kitchen cabinets one at a time.
Scott pauses to check his watch.
"Five minutes past check in, but you know Stiles," he says. John frowns, but doesn't say anything. "We're going straight to get them, John," Scott says. John nods, swallowing thickly.
"I'll go bring the SUV around. We need to empty out the shed." He doesn't wait for the ok, just grabs the key from the rack by the door and heads outside.
"I'm sure they're fine," Melissa says. She takes one box of supplies over to sit by the door, and comes straight back. She pauses when she gets to Scott, and reaches out to hug him from behind. "We'll see them all soon," she assures him. Allison comes down the stairs just then; a second duffle full of clothing and supplies weighing her down on one side. She sets a gym bag down on the kitchen table. It clunks, heavy with ammunition.
"We should reload our weapons before we leave. If they're in trouble, they may need us to help them fight their way out," Scott smiles at her and nods in agreement.
"John went to get the Yukon. Can you go get the jeep?" he asks her. She nods and starts for the door. She pauses and picks up the box Melissa had set there on her way out.
Scott turns to look at Lydia. She is collecting all of their most personal possessions into a pile on the couch. She's working quickly, but not frantically. He watches her for a minute as she bends to roll up sleeping bags and blankets before turning back to finish his work with the water and then heading for the door to help load the cars.
As he steps outside one thought goes through his head, "This place has just started to feel like home."
Stiles feels numb, his head injury and the shock of finding out Derek is bitten making his brain slow down. He feels out of it, confused. He feels Isaac's hand on the back of his hoodie, dragging him along as they make their way slowly through town, following Derek's lead as he takes them back toward the car. Isaac's limping a little, but he's taken the heavy bag from Derek, who is clearly sick and fighting just to keep moving. Isaac's face when Stiles glimpses it is hard and devoid of any emotion but determination. Derek doesn't look back at them. Not once.
When they near the car, Derek seems to slow further. He pops the trunk, letting Isaac set the backpack inside. Stiles takes off the messenger bag, tossing it into the trunk too. Then Derek slams the lid closed and hands Isaac the keys.
"You're going to have to drive. His concussion is worse than he says it is." Isaac takes the keys with a nod. They share a long look, and then Isaac turns away going to the driver's side door and climbing inside.
Derek grips Stiles by the elbow and walks him to the passenger side door. He opens the door and takes the gun and holster off of his belt. He sets them on the floorboard. When he stands up again, he reaches for Stiles once more.
"Time to go, Stiles," he says. Stiles pulls away and looks at Derek in horror.
"You're coming with us right?" he asks. Derek's frown gets impossibly deeper.
"No, I'm not. It isn't safe. Just get in the car. You have to go," Derek says, he looks over Stiles' shoulder. Stiles hears the gurgling sound of the not-dead getting louder. They're coming. Strangely, he doesn't care.
"I'm not going without you. We don't even know if this can kill you. You could be perfectly fine!" Stiles says sounding a bit frantic.
"You've seen how fast and strong these things are. A werewolf could be a thousand times worse," Derek says hurriedly. "I'm sick. I've gotten sick fast. This is happening. Just get in the car!" he orders.
"No! I will not!" Stiles yells. He shoves Derek hard in the chest. "I am not leaving you here to die alone, and turn into one of those things. You are coming with us!" he demands. He's up in Derek's face hands gripping the front of Derek's shirt. Some of the fight goes out of him at the expression on Derek's face, his anger turning to desperation. He drops his forehead to rest on Derek's shoulder. "Please! I can't leave you here like this. Just come with us," he's begging and he doesn't even care.
"We have to go!" Isaac calls from the car. Stiles sinks further against Derek, and immediately feels arms come up around him.
"Stiles, I'm as good as dead already," Derek says, voice soft and pained. Stiles shakes his head.
"No, you aren't. Not yet," he whispers.
"Guys!" Isaac shouts, voice frantic. He has the car started now. Derek tenses and pushes Stiles away toward the car. He reaches down for Stiles gun, and pulling it free from his thigh holster, starts shooting over his shoulder. There are at least a dozen of the not-dead closing in on their position, some only feet away. Stiles opens the backdoor and tugs at Derek's arm.
"Come on!" he shouts and Derek gives in. He closes the front passenger door, and then slides into the back next to Stiles, still shooting. Isaac is pulling away before he can even close the door fully behind them.