Chapter 4
Cut Off My F*cking Arm
Tests were being handed out in class, and Penelope waited for hers when she felt a tap on her desk, looking ahead to see Stiles in the seat in front of her and Scott sitting in front of him, both looking at her.
"You still listening?" he whispered, and she nodded. He turned back to Scott and asked, "If Derek's not the Alpha, if he's not the one who bit you, who did?"
"I don't know," Scott says, and Stiles leans back, turning around again, "Well I guess Nelly was right about it not being him after all."
"When am I not right?" she joked, forcing a smile out of Scott.
"Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Stiles wondered.
"I don't know," he answered, beginning to get frustrated.
"Does Allison's dad know about the Alpha?"
"I don't know!" Scott shouts, causing the class to look back at them and Penelope to blush in embarrassment.
The teacher places her test on her desk, and she smiles, seeing a big red A on the front page. Stiles also got an A, but when she sits up and leans over Stiles' shoulder to see Scott's grade, she winces.
"Oof, Scotty, want us to tutor you?" she whispers, her face still by Stiles' ear, startling him.
"Jeez, you're like a little ninja sometimes, Nels," he placed a hand over his heart, "But yeah, you need help studying?"
"I already said I'd study with Allison at her house after school," he says apologetically.
"That's my boy!" Stiles says proudly.
"What?" Penelope asks, confused.
"Don't listen to him," Scott tells her, "We're just studying."
"Uh, no you're not!" Stiles starts.
"I'm not?" Scott asks.
"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God, I will have you de-balled," Stiles threatens him.
Penelope leans back in her chair and begins looking at her test, not interested in hearing about this anymore. She vaguely hears 'Derek' and 'Alpha' again before something catches her attention.
"Ask Penelope to study since that's clearly what you want to do," Stiles says, making her look up, a questioning look in her eyes.
"Huh?" she asks, "What are you guys talking about?"
Scott is glaring at Stiles, who is glaring right back for a moment. "Nothing," they say at the same time.
Penelope is leaning against the passenger door of the Jeep when she sees Stiles walking up, "Hey. You and Scott still acting pissy from earlier?" She still didn't understand what had happened, but once again felt like she was on the outside looking in.
"No, we're fine, sorry about that, just things have been stressful lately, y'know?" He digs through his bag for his keys, "And I think it's getting to all of us."
"Tell me about it," Penelope agreed, rubbing her temples.
"Migraines back?" he asked, concerned. "Do you need to get back on your prescription?"
"I might, honestly, just because I can, so why not?"
He reverses and pulls them out of their spot, driving through the lot for barely five seconds when none other than Derek Hale walks in front of the car. Stiles slams on the brakes, honking his horn. Derek looked shaky and pale, and when he started to wobble, she threw open the passenger seat and ran to his side, making it there before he fell but only barely able to soften his fall due to how heavy he was.
"Derek? What's happening to you? We're at school, you can't be here," she tried to look for any signs of an injury as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, then she heard Scott coming over.
"I was shot," he says weakly to her.
"Scott, he needs help, he was shot," she says, now slightly frantic, though sure to keep her voice down so they don't attract attention. Any more than they already had, that was.
"He's not looking so good, dude," Stiles comments.
"Why aren't you healing?" Scott asks frustratedly.
"I can't, it was- it was a different kind of bullet," Derek tells them.
"A silver bullet?" Stiles asks, excited.
"No, you idiot," Derek growls.
"That's not very nice considering you're asking us for help," she jokes, getting a hard glare from Derek.
"That's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours!" Scott realizes.
"Wait who?" Penelope asks him.
"The one who shot Derek."
Derek suddenly groans in pain, his eyes flashing between their normal state and their stunning blue, "Stop that!" Scott commands.
"I can't," Derek tells him.
"Get up, I'm gonna put him in your car," Scott tells Stiles, and Penelope goes to the passenger seat to climb into the back seat first.
"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used," Derek asks Scott.
"How am I supposed to do that?" Scott snaps back.
"She's an Argent! She's with them," Derek says, and Penelope asks, "What, are they all werewolf hunters?" But she's ignored.
After a little bit more arguing, they finally drive away, leaving Scott in the parking lot. "Should we go to the hospital?" she asks quietly after a moment, "Derek you look really, really sick."
"No, not the hospital," Derek shuts down her idea.
After driving for a bit, Derek takes his jacket off. "He said he needs more time," Stiles says, throwing his phone down. "Hey try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there."
"Stiles!" she reprimands before leaning forward, to check on Derek. "How you doing?"
"If Scott hurries up I think I'll be fine. Almost where?" he asks Stiles.
Stiles sighs before answering, "Your house."
"What? No, you can't take me there?" Derek says.
"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles asks, confused.
"Not when I can't protect myself."
"Fine, my mom's at work by now and should be out all night, just take him to my house," Penelope decides.
Stiles swerves to the side of the road, stopping the Jeep. "Nelly, I'm not taking this psycho to your house so that he knows where you live. What happens if Scott doesn't find your magic bullet? Are you dying?"
"Not yet. I have a last resort," Derek breathes heavily.
What do you mean? What last resort?" Stiles gets increasingly frustrated.
Derek exposes his gunshot wound. It's stopped bleeding, but the veins surrounding it climb from his forearm like vines, creeping toward his inner-elbow. "Oh my god," Stiles exclaims. "What is that? Oh, is that contagious? You know what, you should probably just get out." He says it like he's going to be sick.
"Okay, Stiles, my house has first aid supplies at least, we can't just sit in your Jeep and watch him die," she pleads, slamming her hand on the seat beside her.
"Start the car. Now," Derek says weakly, looking like he's going to pass out at any moment.
"I don't think you should be giving orders the way you look. In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your werewolf ass out to the middle of the road and leave you for dead," Stiles threatens.
"Start the car or I'm going to rip your throat out... with my teeth... and make your girlfriend watch," was Derek's response.
"Hey, I've been nice to you," Penelope says, offended.
"Which is why I would kill him and not you," Derek offers.
Stiles grumbles incoherently, and after a five-minute drive, they pulled into her driveway. Stiles and she helped him into her house, setting him on the nearest seat they could, an armchair in the living room. Stiles shot Scott a text, while she ran upstairs to get the first aid kit.
"Okay, I don't think any of this is really gonna help right? But is there anything we can do? Do you want any water?" Penelope asks him frantically.
"Yeah actually, just get me some water," he asked her, closing his eyes and resting. She filled a glass with water from the fridge, setting it next to him. Then she pulled out packages of gauze to sop at the still slightly leaking wound. He hissed slightly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said quickly, pulling back.
"It's fine," he nodded, watching her closely. Stiles came back into the room from being somewhere else in the house and sat on the couch, watching them. She took an alcohol wipe and cleaned the area. It immediately began oozing again, and she wiped at it again, before covering it in a bandage and taping it down around his arm.
"Call Scott, he needs to find that bullet, I can't do anything," she says dejectedly, throwing the used gauze and wipes to the ground, standing up to go wash her hands. She hears Stiles' footsteps behind her, and feels his hand on her shoulder, "You okay?"
"No! What's taking him so long? What is he doing over there?" she allows herself to shout, venting her frustration.
"I know, I don't get it. Let me call him. It's gonna be okay," he says, walking back to the living room before dialing Scott.
"Scott, what are we supposed to do with him?" Stiles asks through the phone.
"Take him somewhere, anywhere!" she hears Scott say.
"We already did!" Stiles shouts, lowering his voice when Penelope retracts her head from where it was close to the phone to hear. "We're at Penelope's house."
"You took him to Nelly's house?" Scott growled, and she could practically feel the phone vibrate.
"It was my idea, I tried to patch up the bullet wound but nothing's helping," she interjected into the line.
"And by the way, he's starting to smell," Stiles comments, and she slaps him on the back of the head, causing him to yelp.
"Like what?" Scott asks.
"Like death," Stiles answers, clearly creeped out.
"Okay, take him to the animal clinic, that way he's out of Penelope's house and you're closer to Allison's," Scott tells them.
"What about your boss?" Stiles asks.
"He's gone by now! There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster," Scott instructs.
Stiles hands Derek the phone, "You're not gonna believe where he's telling us to take you."
Stiles and Penelope took either side of Derek as they helped him to the doors of the clinic. They helped him sit on a pile of dog food bags as Stiles got a text from Scott. He looks at Penelope and holds up his phone, "Nordic Blue Monkshood."
"Wolfsbane," she and Derek say at the same time. "It's a rare form. He has to bring me the bullet," he continues.
"Why?" Stiles asks.
"Cause I'm gonna die without it."
"Okay, no one is dying tonight, Stiles get the key and let's get him inside," Penelope says, getting an arm under Derek's good arm, helping him stand as Stiles rushed to open the door. When they entered the clinic through the back, Stiles flipped on the lights as Derek began removing his shirt. The wound looked worse than ever, the veins pitch black and spreading in both directions down his arm.
"You know, that really doesn't look like something some echinacea and a good nights sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles tries to lighten the mood, failing spectacularly.
"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me," Derek says.
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles quips.
Derek starts pulling drawers open, rummaging through them. "If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time... last resort."
"Last resort?" Penelope questions cautiously, walking towards the drawers.
Derek finally stops at a drawer, finding what he needs. He pulls out an electric bone saw, slamming it down on the exam table in front of the two teenagers.
"You're going to cut off my arm," the brooding man tells Stiles.
He hesitantly picks up the saw, pulling the trigger, retching slightly, "Oh my god. What if you bleed to death?"
"Will it heal?" she asks him.
"If it works," the man says.
"Ok, look, I don't know if I can do this…" Stiles looked pale and queasy.
"Why not?" Derek growled.
"Because of the cutting through flesh, the sawing of bone, and especially the blood!" her friend exclaimed.
"Fine, Penelope does it," he says quickly, sliding the bone saw to the blonde girl. She stares at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, "Your mom's a doctor right? Someone needs to do this!"
"She's a nurse," she said quietly as she picked up the bone saw anyways, taking a long and deep breath to calm her nerves.
"Are you really gonna do this?" Stiles asks her, as Derek holds out his arm. She stares at him, "We have to, he's gonna die."
Derek bends over, retching, coughing up copious amounts of black blood. "What- what are you doing? Holy hell what the hell is that?" Stiles whimpers.
"It's my body, trying to heal itself," Derek says between heavy pants.
"Well it's not doing a very good job of it," Stiles replies.
"Penelope, you need to do it now, you gotta do it now," he tells her.
She nods, grabbing the saw again, breathing deeply to try to block out the fact that she was about to cut off a man's arm. "Okay, just- fuck, I'm sorry," she tries to think of something comforting to say, but realizes nothing would cut it. She begins to rev the saw, nicking the slightest bit of skin when she hears Scott yell, "Stiles?"
Penelope screams, immediately dropping the saw, throwing it onto the table. Her and Stiles stare at Scott as he walks in. "What the hell are you guys doing?"
"You just saved me from a lifetime of nightmares, and probably a lifetime of therapy and nightmares for Penelope," Stiles laughs nervously.
"Did you get it?" Scott pulls the bullet out of his pocket, handing it to the wounded werewolf.
"What do you do now?" Penelope asks him, her hands shaking again now that the adrenaline from earlier had worn off.
"I'm gonna, I'm gonna…" Derek starts, before dropping the bullet and falling over, passing out. The bullet rolls off the table and out of view, Scott going after it. Stiles and Penelope go to Derek's side.
"Derek? Derek, come on, wake up," Stiles tries, holding his face and slapping him lightly. "Scott what the hell are we gonna do?"
"I don't know!" Scott yells.
"He's not waking up! I think he's dying, I think he's dead!" Stiles tells Scott. "Just hold on!" Scott yells back.
"Okay, Stiles, move," Penelope tells him, moving him out of the way and moving over Derek. She bends down and places her ear over his mouth and nose, listening for breaths. They're there but extremely slow and shallow. She leans back, and places a hand under his chin tilting his head back, and pressing down on his chin to open his mouth. "Okay, please don't bite me," she whispers.
"I got it, I got it!" Scott exclaims happily.
"Wait, what are you-?" Stiles asks her, before she leans down and places her mouth over Derek's, pinching his nose. She exhales, feeling his chest fill. She does this one more time, and then he shoots up, gasping for breath. He looks at the three of them before grabbing the bullet from Scott's outstretched hand, "Give me…"
They help him stand, and he goes to the exam table, opening the bullet with his teeth, dumping the contents onto the table. He pulls out a lighter, lighting the powder on fire. The three teens step back, surprised by the sparks. He collects it into his hand before dumping it all into the wound, pressing it in. Derek screams in agony, falling to the ground in excruciating pain. The veins disappeared, crawling back up his arm until they were no longer there. The wound closed, eliciting a "That… was… awesome!" from Stiles.
"Are you okay?" Scott asks.
"Well except for the agonizing pain," Derek smarts, standing up from the ground.
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health," Stiles scoffs.
Derek grabs his shirt, pulling it back on. Penelope stands in between the two boys, and Scott very clearly steps in front of her, putting himself in between her and Derek Hale.
"We saved your life. That means you're going to leave us alone. All of us. You got that? And if you don't I go back to Allison's dad and tell him everything-" Scott says but is cut off by Derek. Penelope was surprised that he would say this, considering the Argent's were the ones that did this to Derek in the first place.
"You're going to trust them? You think they can help you?" Derek laughs.
"Why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are," Scott defends them.
"I can show you exactly how nice they are."
Penelope had an idea of what Derek wanted to show him. Or rather, who. Peter Hale. Derek's uncle and only living relative as far as she was aware, now that Laura was gone. Derek takes Scott in his Camaro, leaving Stiles to take her home.
"I think I could sleep for a whole day after this afternoon," she sighed, leaning into the passenger seat, staring out the windshield as they drove.
"Why'd you kiss him?" Stiles had been completely silent so far, so she was caught off guard by his blunt questioning.
"What? Derek? I didn't kiss him, I gave him mouth-to-mouth, there's a difference," she crossed her arms. "Why do you care who I kiss anyways?"
"I don't!" he said defensively. "That's not the point. You should've just let me punch him."
"Well you never told me that was an option," she grumbled, looking out the window.
"Just, don't kiss Derek Hale, please," Stiles shakes his head, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Who should I kiss then?" she asked him, feeling uncharacteristically bold, turning towards him now.
"I-I-I don't know, uh, who-who do you want to kiss?" he asked, looking between her and the road, shocked.
"Nobody that would ever notice me," she sighed.