Chapter 59

The howl Jackson let out was more than just pain; Stiles felt the anguish about having that choice taken away from him like his own.

"You bastard!" he snarled. With a flick of his wrist, his mountain ash shot towards Deucalion and wound around the werewolf's neck like a garotte before he could react.

"Wha-" the man snarled, only to gasp and choke at the sudden pressure. To claw at his neck he had to let go of Jackson and the teen had the presence of mind to seek shelter behind a huge city van immediately, despite still being half out of his mind. "Let go!"

Stiles' eyes were burning with furious tears as he willed the ash to squeeze tighter. "I don't think so, you asshole."

Suddenly every wolf perked up. A moment later Stiles could hear the wailing police sirens outside the building as well.

"However will you explain this," Deucalion rasped, laughing wetly. His fingers were glancing off the mountain ash and slipping on the blood seeping from the long, thin wound around his neck as he stood on his tiptoes as if being yanked up by a stronger opponent.

"Oh, I can think of something," Stiles replied, not bothering to raise his voice over the hammering against the locked garage gate. "But how will you explain this disaster to your little band of murderers, huh? Big bad alpha, you bit off more than you can chew."

Deucalion's eyes flashed red and he stared at Stiles for a very uncomfortable second. Then, he gasped, "You're an alpha now. This is unprecedented. You'd make a lovely addition to my pack."

Stiles expected Peter to say something, or maybe do something about the twin still keeping Isaac hostage, but the man did nothing. He was just … waiting.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, even Derek who really couldn't afford to do so, which was unnerving in the extreme.

"Was there a question in there somewhere?" Stiles finally asked.

"Join me," Deucalion gurgled, still smiling creepily despite fighting against the suffocation.

"Still not a question," Stiles snapped. He bared his teeth in a snarl. "But to make this short: I'm not interested. Also, offering me a place in your pack when you're in a less than ideal position to bargain? That's just cheap, man."

"I didn't know better." Deucalion wheezed. "Think about it. I'll show some goodwill to prove that I'm serious about my interest." His red-eyed gaze flicked from Stiles to Aiden. "Let the puppy go."

Aiden bristled. "But-"

"Let," Deucalion repeated, voice nearly giving out, "him go."

With a growl, Aiden shoved Isaac down and sneered when the teen promptly crawled over to Derek and covered him with his body. "Fine. And now?"

"Now we leave … with your permission, Stiles." The red faded from Deucalion's eyes and he gave up the fight against the mountain ash.

Stiles turned to Peter before looking meaningfully upwards, where at least a dozen voices were shouting for him, Isaac, and Derek.

"Your prisoner, your decision, alpha," Peter rumble-growled, red eyes hungrily resting on Stiles' face. His maw was twisted in an unnatural looking grin and his teeth were gleaming in the dim light of the garage.

Great, just drop the responsibility in my lap, why don't you, Stiles thought hysterically. Right beside him in his mind, Lou was a lot less ambivalent about what he thought needed to happen.

"Stiles?" the sheriff's voice echoed faintly through the garage. "Isaac? Where are you?"

"Decide already!" Aiden snapped, fangs and claws fully out.

"Stiles!" more voices yelled.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Stiles, hissed, "I should kill you where you stand. The only reason I won't is because it would mean a shit ton of paperwork for my dad. Piss off, you three, and take your fucking trash out of my territory! Should you be dumb enough to come back, you'll regret it. Clear?"

"Clear," Deucalion wheezed. He weakly flapped a hand in the twins' direction. At once, the two werewolves picked up Ennis' more dead than alive body and speed-shuffled past Stiles and Peter and next to their leader.

"Good riddance," Stiles said sharply and recalled his mountain ash.

Deucalion stumbled and gasped for air. Aiden tugged on him to follow, but the man still took the time to sketch a small bow at Stiles and pick up his stick.

Warily, Stiles watched their limping departure, but from the corner of his eye, he managed to observe Peter losing his fur and crouching down by Derek and Isaac. "I hope you all packed some healing cards because you all fucking need them."

"I've got five, and Isaac already used one on Derek and himself each," Peter reported. "Clever boy. We'll make it better now, just hold on for a bit longer."

Isaac whimpered quietly, the sound strangely muffled like he'd burrowed his face in Peter's shoulder and was trying very hard not to sob.

Everything in Stiles ached to be by Derek's side, and he would've joined the small group if Derek himself hadn't rasped out Jackson's name.

"I'm fine, you need to heal him," Derek urged breathlessly. He groaned as Peter ripped up yet another red healing card and pressed it to his upper chest. A bright dusting of magic exploded upwards, only to seep rapidly into his skin. "Prevent the transformation, if you can."

And so Stiles went to the SUV, where Jackson had sought shelter. The boy was still sitting there, knees drawn tightly to his torso, face pale and sweaty, and his blue eyes wide with terror.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles blurted out, dropping to his knees in front of Jackson. "So fucking sorry, I … god, I don't know how to make it better. Or if I even can."

Jackson's lips moved without a sound getting past.

"Fuck, it hurts, obviously. Sorry." Hastily, Stiles pulled all of his healing cards from his back pocket and ripped up the red one. He slapped the two parts right onto the still bleeding skin of Jackson's shoulder, front and back, and pushed as much of his will into the already existing spell as he could. "This is a little unhygienic, but I promise it works."

It did work, at least somewhat, as evidenced by the sudden drop of tension in Jackson's body. The bleeding stopped almost completely and some of the torn ligaments seemed to repair themselves, much to Stiles' relief.

"Not your fault," Jackson said roughly, groaning a little in discomfort. "Blind dude used his cane to break the ward."

Stiles blanched and nearly lost his hold on Jackson as his fingers lost their strength. "What?"

Offering a small, somewhat dark smirk, Jackson said, "Yeah, just like that. Can't think of everything, after all, Stilinski." He coughed. "Fuck, it burns. Also, your dad's going nuts."

"I know," Stiles replied and grimaced. "Can you stand?"

Instead of answering, Jackson held out his uninjured arm and together they managed to get him to his feet without provoking a screaming fit.

"Stiles!" the sheriff shouted just as they left the questionable cover of the SUV. Breathless, he came to a stop and stared. "What the hell happened in here?"

Behind him, four deputies also stopped short at the sight of Kali's ravaged body, one even turning away to heave up his lunch for a beat or two.

"Animal attack," Peter retorted succinctly from his spot by Isaac and Derek. He didn't even bother pretending that kneeling in a pool of blood disturbed him. "Successfully attacked all of us except Stiles, as you can see. This lady here didn't make it."

"That's bad," Deputy Tara Graeme stated, face stiff and pale. She looked around and frowned. Stiles noticed the exact moment where things didn't add up for her, and it wasn't just a lack of bloody paw prints leaving the scene. "Very, very bad."

"I'm so, so sorry," Stiles offered and absolutely meant it. Frozen, he stared at his father, who stared back.

Deputy Graeme softened a little. "Oh kid, it's not your fault."

"The ambulance is on the way and you'll all go to the hospital," Stiles' father managed to say, tone brokering no discussion. "We'll take your statements later. And now come here, Stiles. I need to hug the stuffing out of you."

Since there was no letting go of Jackson, the boy was included in the sheriff's famed dad hugs, and for once in his life, Jackson wasn't too proud to accept the offered comfort.

That moment of peace couldn't last, naturally. Even with the help of the healing cards, Derek and Isaac were badly off and in no position to argue the sheriff's plans for them. On the edge of an adrenaline crash, Stiles watched over his friends until the EMTs were there and loading everyone except Peter and himself onto gurneys.

"Will you ride with us?" Isaac asked pitifully and nearly twisted off the gurney when the man taking care of him cleaned out a particularly nasty claw mark in his side.

"Of course I will," Peter answered soothingly, stroking Isaac's hair and cheeks under another medics watchful gaze. They were the only two areas on Isaac's body that weren't hurt. "I'll have to leave for a bit once you're settled, but I'll be back for the night."

Without missing a beat, Stiles said, "I'll ride with Derek. Can you go with Jackson, dad? Please?"

Instantly suspicious, the sheriff looked at the teen sitting on his gurney and having the bite wound looked at and prodded by yet another frowning EMT. It didn't take him long at all to understand what had happened and his face tensed before softening with pity. "Yes, of course. I'll make it happen. But Peter should call his father before the hospital does. Knowing David, he'd suffer a massive coronary otherwise."

"Peter's on it," Stiles said, confident in Peter's ability and willingness to handle this catastrophe. "I'll keep watch over everyone while he takes care of stuff. I can stay the night if the hospital keeps them, right?"

At that point, Isaac was wheeled away, a deputy helping with keeping the gurney steady as the two medics assigned to him pushed it up the ramp. Peter went with him and didn't return.

"I'm impressed," John murmured, watching them go. "He didn't sneer at the boys once."

"Why would he?" Stiles asked, nonplussed.

"Well, they heal pretty fast, don't they? I just thought he'd be more unconcerned," his father admitted.

"Ah. Well, it's not that easy." Stiles lowered his voice some more even as his and Lou's combined fury seethed to life again. "They were attacked by alphas, and wounds inflicted by an alpha take a lot longer to heal. Something to do with the strength of their wolf spark and stuff. I was a little sceptical, but seeing this? Yeah, I'm a believer now."

"Sheriff! You've got to see the pics from the ground floor!" a deputy yelled through the garage, holding up a camera.

The sheriff cursed softly. "You'll tell me everything later. If anyone asks, stick to Hale's party line for now. We'll have to regroup and plan once we know what sort of evidence is there."

A clump of ice dropped into Stiles' stomach and radiated its numbing coldness throughout his body. "I'll never be able to say sorry often enough."

His father clasped a hand around his neck and squeezed. "Whatever went down, I know that it wasn't your fault. We'll deal with this together - later. For now, put it out of your mind and go with Derek; they're waiting."

Hitching a small sob, Stiles went over to Derek's gurney and helped push it forward, though not without touching Jackson's unhurt shoulder as he went past him and assuring him that they'd meet again at the hospital.

When they passed the forcefully opened gate a couple of minutes later, Stiles was nearly blinded by the bright evening sun. The dichotomy between all that blood and gore down there and the balmy summer evening out on the street was jarring, to say the least. Even worse were the rubberneckers trying to film over the crime scene tape his father's deputies had used to block the street so the forensic team and the medic could work in peace.

"This is a nightmare," Stiles declared once he and Derek were safely inside the back of the ambulance. Without hesitation, he squeezed between the gurney and the far wall and took Derek's hand to give and receive some comfort. The EMT with them huffed approvingly and fussed with the bandages on Derek's torso. "How's the neck?"

"Still hurts," Derek rasped. He was clearly exhausted, his face drawn and pale from the pain. Stiles felt immense pity for the guy since the IV with the painkillers obviously did next to nothing for him. "Bleeding through the bandages."

"We might have to stitch him up," the medic offered and made a note on a chart next. "Thankfully neither spine nor trachea was harmed. The oesophagus might've gotten nicked, though, so that'll have to get checked out ASAP. The rest are mostly flesh wounds, albeit bad ones."

A barrage of questions regarding Derek's insurance followed, which Stiles helped answer to the best of his ability. It stung a little to realize how little he still knew about his beta and friend's circumstances, but a phone call with Peter managed to fill in the most important details.

As they rolled up to the hospital, the EMT asked, "Any chance you can tell us what sort of animal it was? Going by the claw and teeth marks, I'd almost say a bear, but there aren't any bears in California, nevermind in an underground garage in the city. Not with the preserve around offering so many opportunities for hunting and foraging."

Derek looked at Stiles from tired eyes and Stiles offered, "Dunno, I mostly ran from it as fast as I could. But it was large. And had dark fur. It growled a lot, too, but not like a big cat." He shrugged and tried to look clueless. "To be honest, you guys probably chased it off. Thank god."

"You all saw the body of that lady," the medic said slowly after scribbling down what little Stiles had given him. "I'll put in a recommendation for everyone to get trauma counselling. You're holding up pretty well, but you'll crash eventually."

"Then it's a good thing I've already decided to spend the night with my friends," Stiles said. He gripped Derek's hand a little tighter. "I'll even let you check me for shock or whatever if that'll make you happy."

"Deal," the EMT accepted at once. The ambulance slowed to a stop and two ER nurses opened the doors. "Let's get you checked out and treated."

Stiles tried to impede the separation from Derek, but the hospital personnel insisted since he was neither declared next of kin nor had the power of attorney. Therefore, not two minutes after entering the hospital, Stiles was left behind in the waiting room and pacing a hole into the ground. Texting Erica and Boyd helped a little but it wasn't enough to drown out Lou's howling for pack.

Ten minutes later Jackson's parents arrived, both looking ten years older and in desperate need of assurance that their son would be okay.

It nearly broke Stiles that he couldn't promise them that, even if he did truthfully tell them that he had done what he could at the scene.

At Mrs. Whittemore's tearful gratitude, Stiles felt like the worst sort of failure.

oOo

Hours later, Stiles, Derek, Isaac, and Jackson were settled into a private four-bedroom suite at Peter's behest. While the doctors recommended rest, they didn't send Erica and Boyd away when they came to visit.

"Holy shit, you three look like you've been put through the grinder," Erica gasped as she entered. She actually wobbled a little and leaned gratefully into Boyd's strong arm around her shoulder. "Stiles told us what happened, but it's different seeing it."

"Very different," Boyd echoed, taking in the damage to all of them.

"I'm so glad you're all alive. Oh, here is the magical med-pack Peter gave us. He also packed some clothes and food for all of you." Erica rattled the bag with the dice and ward chips. "I'm so looking forward to seeing how this works!"

"And I can't wait to use it," Isaac groaned. His left arm and right leg were in a thick cast and nearly all of his upper body was wrapped up in bandages. "This sucks. I thought I'd left this bullshit behind when I accepted the bite."

"We'll get you sorted out soon," Stiles promised. "We've got the dice and I'll continue reading healing spells at you."

"Can we do anything else to help?" Boyd asked.

"Yeah, actually. You could ask my dad for the ward stones. We had to leave them behind," Stiles said at once and took the large duffel bag from Boyd. "I already secured the room with some runes, and I've got my mountain ash, but I'd feel better if we had them, too. Especially since I know what weak point I'll have to eliminate."

"Weak point?" Erica wondered. "They were so strong when we tried them out!"

"The dude that bit me used his blind man's stick to break the ward," Jackson explained with a swiping hand wave. The large, white bandage on his shoulder was already flecked with blood, again. "Just like that."

"Rest assured that I'll rectify that mistake," Stiles said darkly. He opened the bag and pulled out the four Tupperware containers. "Oh, Peter sent us gnocchi from La Traviata. Blue cheese and chicken is for Derek, mushroom for Isaac, and I guess the ones with scampi are for you, Jackson."

A little thrown, Jackson accepted the container. "Thanks. Dunno if I can eat but … yeah."

"Were you really bitten by an alpha? Did it hurt?" Erica asked and sat on Stiles' bed. When Jackson nodded shortly, she exclaimed, "Man, that sucks rocks big time."

"Better than being killed," Jackson muttered. "My parents flipped their shit. Mom doesn't even know about the werewolf thing. She's worried about rabies and whatnot."

Erica made a commiserating sound and then looked around. "I hear you. Say, where's Lydia? I thought she'd be here."

"She's at the Jungle, working hard to appease and entertain the guests," Stiles told her once it became clear that Jackson would remain silent. To defend her, he added, "Someone needed to do that since a few of them arrived almost at the same time as the police. Shit went viral already, even though no one really knows what happened yet. Lydia hopes to distract them with the party."

A short rap at the door spooked them all, and they started even further when it swung open and revealed a furious-looking teenager.

"Danny?" Jackson asked, his jaw dropping a little. "What are you doing here?"

"Fuck you," Danny retorted. Even with his tanned skin, the angry flush in his face was highly visible. "Werewolves, Jax? Really?"

Jackson flushed as well, but he rallied quickly. "It's not my story to tell."

Sucking in a deep breath through quivering nostrils, Danny bit out, "At this point, I don't care about that anymore. One of you will tell me because I just scrubbed that fucking altercation from the security tapes for you before the police got around to it. You're welcome!"


End of chapter 59