Note: I'm going to New York tomorrow for a day trip and won't have time to post so here's tomorrows chapter
Chapter 11
"Yes." Deaton replied.
"Okay." That was the end of that conversation as Deaton worked on Derek, putting something around the arrows before pulling them out, one by one. Derek almost passed out again from the pain if it weren't for Stiles rambling on in front of him, keeping him awake.
"Stiles."
"Yes Deaton."
"Go get one of the girl's arrow heads."
"Yes sir," he said mockingly with a hand on his forehead.
Stiles ran back into his house and Deaton turned to Derek. "Really? Stiles? That's a bad idea."
"But…"
"I understand that he's your mate but watch out. You'll end up dead in the end."
"I know that already." Derek said looking down.
"You're smarter than stories give your species credit for, remember that."
"Hey I'm back." Stiles says breathlessly.
"Okay, now you're going to have to do this Stiles. Take the tip off, there'll be some powder inside, put that inside one of his wounds. Do you want...?" Deaton started to say as Stiles pulled out a dagger covered in blood. Stiles looked at it for a few seconds as a tear fell down his cheek and sadness bled into his eyes. He wiped the dagger on his pants as the sadness was covered by the smile now on his face. Then he broke the tip off of the arrowhead. Grabbing a cloth next to Derek's leg and pushing the powder into the wound in Derek's shoulder. The pain went away as he healed.
Stiles looked at him in amazement, obviously never seeing a werewolf heal before. It made Derek smile as Stiles looked up at him. Derek then held his arms out and Stiles accepted, letting Derek pull him into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered into Stiles' short hair. Deaton then proceeded to walk back into the house. That's when Stiles pulled himself out of Derek's grip.
"You should probably go." He said as he looked down at the ground, waiting for Derek to leave.
"But Stiles…no…why would you tell me to leave?"
"I'm dangerous! Now leave!"
"No Stiles!"
"Leave Derek!"
"No…Stiles no!"
He looked back up at Derek, "I can't stand to look at you, you stupid mutt now leave!"
Derek stumbled back, shocked at the look of Stiles' expression and what he said. The only thing he could do was leave. So he ran into the woods as far away as he could.
Stiles regretted what he had said but knew it was for Derek's own good so he went back into the house to help Deaton with the bodies. When he got up to his room, Deaton already had them in body bags, zipped up tight. The blood was everywhere, a mistake on Stiles' part that he would pay for with hours and hours of scrubbing.
Once he got the bodies in the back of the ambulance with the help of Deaton, he closed the doors. Deaton came up behind him, "Remember what you have to do."
"Ya Ya I know, get rid of the evidence, clean up the crime scene, we've been through this before."
"Good. Eat. You're looking thin…also do something about those eyes. They're getting blacker every time I see them."
"I thought the drops were working. Do you have anything stronger?"
"Maybe. Come see me in a few days." They nodded at each other. Stiles headed back to his front door and turned back to watch Deaton drive away. Then walked into the kitchen and got some food. Once he finished eating, he grabbed a garbage bag, scissors, rubber gloves, towel, and a big container of bleach. Then, he got on his hands and knees in his bedroom to clean thinking, "Why do I have a white carpet? Worst idea EVER!" A howl rang through the town as Stiles was automatically hit with grief from what he had done. He started to sob as he rubbed the carpet. He just kept rubbing and rubbing as the tears fell down his cheeks and off his face onto the blood soaked carpet.