"The single, put him on the single couch." Brittany said, urging everyone forward into her home, watching Isaac and Scott struggle along their swift movements while carrying Stiles' frame, Isaac by his feet and Scott's hands under his friend's arm pits. They led the unconscious boy toward the red material of the previously offered; setting the boy down as carefully as they could while Brittany shut the door of her home behind Melissa McCall, who had managed to free herself from her work once her son had spoken to her about Stiles' state.
It was why she didn't waste another second on voicing her discomfort upon the situation once again. "Guys, this is crazy." She admitted, her head shaking and her hands clasping before her as she followed the teens into the girl's home. "He needs to be in the hospital." She stopped a few inches from the coffee table that Allison and Lydia were moving aside.
Not even a few seconds later, a very tiny meow echoed from the wooden stairs; for only a couple of seconds everyone's eyes fell on the black kitten that made their way toward the group; but they all looked away the moment Brittany, after a short gasp, and a gentle "Kit kat, no." lifted the feline from the ground and turned around to climb up the stairs from which the kitten had come. "You can't be downstairs, it's not safe..."
Her words faded away mindlessly as she moved further, at the very same time that Scott moved closer to his mother without much of a gap between her own words before replying. "Mom, remember what happened the last time he was treated in the hospital?" He asked, truly enough for the woman's eyes to lower considerably in the direction of the unconscious boy without needing much more of a reminder of the fact that something horrible had gone down in that hospital bedroom without her noticing. "Plus," Scott added, lifting a hand in attempts of comforting and prying away a pang of guilt that refused to disappear from her frame; something he had so easily brought upon. "He just attacked you there." He reminded her, again, not like she needed it. "I don't think it's going to matter."
The nurse's hands fell to her sides as a nod bobbed her head, the puff of a released sigh escaping from parted brims before she at all began to move in the direction of the unconsciously sitting teenager on the red couch. "Alright." It was all the encouragement she needed to take a breath and kneel right before Stiles and attempt to carefully lift the boy's gray shirt; she kept her fingers away from the wound specifically for her lack of gloves, but even then, even as she touched the surrounding skin and the definitely drying blood that adorned it, she found herself confused, though relieved, and guiltily enough, worried. "It doesn't look like he's bleeding." She informed them, the shadow of a frown darkening her orbs as her experienced sight studied the folds of the wound, the wide open gap, the tones, the almost near to perfectly dry skin that should have already killed the boy minutes upon minutes ago; the wound was unsurvivable, yet... "I think he might even be healing." Melissa admitted with a confused, yet undeniably relieved expression adorning her soft features as she stood up and took a step back.
"You mean healing like we heal?" Isaac wondered, his eyes flicking away from the pale colour of Stiles' skin to look at his legal guardian with a little more than a short curiosity that did not dear break even after she nodded and he looked away at his unconscious friend.
"That's good, right?" Scott wondered before Isaac could, making everyone in the room look in the nurse's direction with the sense of a hope for a good reply.
But it didn't come from where they expected; instead, it came from behind them, with a strong accent and the echoing sound of her shoes' soles hitting against the wooden material of her floor. "For him, yes." Brittany told them, letting out a breath, and looking around at the five that had turned around to face her. "Us?" She asked, stepping further into the room while shaking her head. "I'm not so sure."
"What do you mean?" Lydia wondered, her green eyes dancing from the unconscious boy to the blue eyed girl.
"I mean that we should probably hurry." She replied, looking away from Stiles to flick her eyes in Isaac's direction, who only nodded once before turning around to open the black shoulder bag he had placed on the set-aside coffee table to begin taking out, one by one, the items she had listed. "I wanted to save Stiles, and I did." Brittany admitted, looking in Lydia's direction with a disclosing tone. "But using that spell to heal his wound, didn't only help him, it helped the demon as well." She nodded, searching the eyes of the ones that watched her for signs of understanding; and though she found them in most, she still forced herself to add, "It will make it stronger."
That was truly all the group needed to start moving; after Lydia and Brittany had drawn the circled pointed star with chalk on the wooden floor where the coffee table had rested, together, Scott, Isaac, and Miss McCall, lifted the single couch toward the middle of the design; not ever even truly thinking twice before taking a step back in case the rough movements woke the boy and the demon within. Seconds later, with a soft spoken Latin whispers from the witch, the grainy chalk upon the floor shifted, tightened and formed well until the drawn lines were perfectly solid paint-like patterns; shifts after which she nodded at them once again, and encouraged Scott, who had been holding onto a given vial, to walk forward until he stood inches away from his best friend's feet. "Hold his head back." He requested from Brittany, who easily moved around the single couch to carefully do as asked while Isaac hurried forward to attempt helping by forcing the boy's mouth open. "Careful." The alpha told them both as he unscrewed the cap of the vial and lifted it until the liquid fell like a tiny waterfall into the boy's mouth.
Not even two seconds before the last drop fell, Stiles' lids flew open, revealing the deadly black infinity that his hues had become, and the hand closest to Isaac lifted until it wrapped tightly around the beta's throat. "Get him off me, get him off me!" Isaac pleaded while attempting to push a strong hand away from him, to fight against his hold, to ignore the amused expression on his lips. Brittany and Scott attempted to help; and the soft whispers from the witch were about to start, when, solely with a hard hold from Scott's own hand, Stiles' digits fell away from Isaac's throat, who quickly stepped back from the white outline on the floor with a hand against his throat and a frown in the middle of his forehead.
The boy was frowning, though, the black of its eyes fading away with confusion as his limb trembled with the effort it attempted to push against Scott's hold; a hold the alpha dropped as soon as it began and stepped back alongside Isaac and the rest of the group, who had moved closer with hopes of helping; the frown in the middle of their foreheads seemed to end up being the most common. Stiles' back and arm dropped and rested against the red material of the couch as a feigned amused scoff escaped his nose in a puff. "Kanima venom." He stated, gaze lifting in Scott's direction while his head fell immobile atop the back rest. "Nice touch." If the tone in his voice wasn't enough, the sardonic lift of his lips displayed his discomfort.
For a short second, the only sound in the room was everyone's breath. "I thought you said you could control him." Allison told Brittany, breaking the silence and encouraging everyone's eyes in the witch's direction.
A witch who ticked her head back shortly and slowly turned to look in Allison's direction, exhaling a breath and nodding before she spoke. "Yeah, and I told you the healing spell would make it stronger." She simply stated, not as harshly as she felt the words should have escaped, but still well enough to make the huntress frown.
All of which was forgotten when Stiles spoke again. "Have you checked on your father, Allison?" He asked, making everyone's eyes return to his frozen frame on the couch, only forcing upon a deeper frown in the middle of her forehead that had absolutely nothing to do with the witch's snark. "Haven't seen him since yesterday, have you?" It taunted, smiling enough to show Stiles' teeth in a grimace that looked as much evil as it looked satisfied.
Though Allison's eyes refused to move away from the questioning boy, her head shook, lips parting to allow more breath to slip into her lungs. "He sent me a text this morning." She shortly informed, edging her frown deeper as she shifted her frame to face directly at him. "Said he was visiting Gerard."
It wasn't too long after, that Stiles' brows shot up and the grin across his lips spread wider. "And you believed him, did you?" It continued to taunt with that diverted tone, shaking his head with as much motion as he could master due to the paralytic. "Didn't think of calling him even once?" The tsking sounds that escaped Stiles' lips not only made Isaac's jaw lock, but everyone's features shift in curious and angry grimaces as he continued displaying the words the demon wanted them to hear. "Oh... I hope I'm wrong." His lips twisted low, shifting that annoying grin into an even more galling smirk. "It'd be so unlike you."
It's all Allison could take before a step led her forward, making Lydia's hand beside her quickly shoot up to hold the inside of her elbow, making the huntress turn around to look at her with that unmoving frown; the demon breathed out a laugh just as the banshee shook her head. "What have you done to him?" Allison asked instead, looking back in Stiles' direction with a raging narrow of her eyes, feeling rather thankful when Lydia's hold dropped.
The smile across the boy's lips truly refused to waver. "Okay, I'll give a little hint." It allowed, clearing Stiles' throat and poising a forced seriousness upon his features, resulting in nothing more than annoyance from Allison, whose hands tightened onto fists within seconds. "He's in your weapons garage." It informed her instantly; something that only made the frown across her forehead deepen as her kind orbs shifted automatically to look in Scott's direction.
Of course the alpha didn't take longer than a second to nod. "Go." He encouraged, seemingly enough for the huntress to even start moving.
"I'll drive her." Melissa McCall stated, lifting a hand to press a squeeze onto her son's shoulder and hurrying to follow the decided teenager down the hall toward the house's front door as the demon laughed in a remaining twisted version of Stiles' voice that made the hairs behind Scott and Lydia's neck stand on end. It would be so easy to pretend their friend had gone crazy, to say that the thing inside him didn't exist at all, it could fool them that well; it was terrifying, but at the very same time... it was angering.
"Oh, I hope they get there in time." It mocked gently after that twisted sound stopped. "I like hunters." It mused, releasing the puff of a breath while his head shook resting against the red material of the couch, from where he seemed to be unable to move. "They always make my time more fun, you know?" It looked in their direction, forbidding whatever bit of a victory to slip from its grasp. "Though I gotta admit, those ones are one weird brand of hunter; it's the first time I see one of 'em being okay enough with the supernatural to be dating a werewolf." The breath of a chuckle escaped through his smiling brims once again, so wickedly that it made eveyone's brow furrow with disgust. "Though, I guess it's no weirder than the banshee and her human." It said, looking in Lydia's direction with a narrow of Stiles' eyes.
Of course, the last words spoken had been the last straw for the banshee he spoke of. "You brought something to paralyze his body." She stated in Isaac's direction, gulping once yet absolutely refusing to pry her eyes away from the sickeningly smiling boy and the shadowing black orbs behind which the familiar amber hue disappeared. "You got anything for his mouth?"
With a scoffed breath and a minute smirk of his own, Isaac nodded. "Yes, I do." He simply stated, turning around to look toward the black bag on the coffee table before reaching inside for a big roll of black tape of which he swiftly cut a rectangle piece to easily place against the possessed boy's lips.
Where it would stay until the group was done preparing for the rest of the plan, now, with one person short.
To Be Continued.