Chapter 19

Warning: Violence in this chapter! Poor Stiles! Also, would love your opinion on whether you would like Sterek to have a boy or girl!

Stiles read through her 'baby information' booklet. She was now 16 weeks, and her baby was the size of an avocado. She only really began to show a couple of weeks ago, but now she was popping out at a rapid pace. It was getting hard to hide the fact that she was pregnant. She was supposed to be starting college in a month's time, though she and her Dad had not yet discussed their options, she as just glad that he was on board now. In fact, he seemed more excited about it than she was. He kept pushing her to tell him who the baby's father was, though she would only say he wasn't in the picture anymore. Her friends assumed that it was the made-up boy she had lost her virginity to, and she didn't say anything to correct them. For all she cared, her baby's father was made-up. Derek hadn't tried to contact her since he found out she was pregnant, which was a relief. She was doing this on her own and she wasn't going to let Derek distract or confuse her.

After examining her growing bump in the mirror, she was drawn down the hall by a loud banging noise. She had her arm cast removed a week ago, so she could now use crutches to move around. She opened the door to the spare bedroom to find her Dad bent over a stack of wood.

"Dad?" she said, getting his attention. He turned around and stood up, covered in sweat and sawdust.

"Hey, Stiles, how you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"Fine. Err… what are you doing?" she responded. They hardly ever used that room.

"Getting the baby's room ready," he told her. She looked around, the walls had been painted white, the windows had been cleaned and re-screened, and the stack of wood at his feet was actually the parts to a crib.

"Wow," she breathed, taken aback. "Don't you think it's a bit early for that?"

"Well, I just remember when your Mom was pregnant with you, we left it a bit last minute and it was a rush to get everything ready before you arrived," he explained. "So I want this room to be nice and ready for when my granddaughter gets here."

"Granddaughter? I don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet," she said.

"It's going to be a girl, I know it. Mini-Stiles he said proudly.

"God I hope not. Then she'll be a handful," she sighed. "And a disappointment."

Her Dad hugged her and rubbed her arm gently.

"You're not a disappointment, Stiles," he told her. "I'm proud of you and love you no matter what. You're going to be a great parent."

"Only because I had the best parents." She hugged him back.

"Hey, I was thinking we could drive down to the hardware store today and pick out some paint for the room? Maybe a nice pink?" he suggested.

"I'm all for your enthusiasm about having a granddaughter, but I think for now we should get a gender-neutral colour. A nice yellow or something."

"Probably a good idea," he chuckled.

Stiles got dressed – which took a long time considering her leg was in a cast and her arm was still sore. Some of her clothes were starting to get tight, but luckily she was a bit of a tomboy and had lots of baggy shirts. Once she was ready, they headed down to the hardware story and began browsing the paint section, Stiles hobbling along the aisles on her crutches. They eventually settled on a soft, pale yellow and took the swatch up to the counter so they could order the paint. Stiles realized she needed to use the bathroom.

"Is there a bathroom around here?" she asked the man behind the counter.

"Didn't you go before we left?" her Dad pointed out.

"Well I need to go again," she whispered, getting embarrassed. Frequent urination was one of her least favourite pregnancy symptoms.

"It's out the back, you'll need a key," the cashier told her, handing her the key.

"Do you need help?" her Dad asked.

"No!" she yelled, definitely embarrassed now. She slowly moved outside and to the back of the building. There was a single unisex bathroom, which was absolutely filthy and Stiles had to hold her breath the entire time, which was a struggle because of her leg and crutches. When she had finished, she went outside for fresh air, but it wasn't enough to settle her stomach. She felt a rush of sickness, rushed to the closest scrap of shrubbery, and threw up. Her nausea had only settled slightly in the past few weeks, though not enough to stop her being sick over bad smells. She wiped her mouth and turned around to see three men standing behind her.

She had no time to react or speak before she was struck over the head, and it was lights out.

When Stiles opened her eyes, her vision was blurry and her temple was pounding. She quickly became aware that she was sitting upright, strapped to a chair. Her casted leg remained untied, though her hands and uninjured leg were bound. Apart from the blow to her head, she appeared to have no other injuries. She couldn't feel any pain in her abdomen, though she still feared for her baby. She looked around her. She was in a basement. There was nothing in there except the chair she sat on and a lone window at the opposite end of the room, which was shut. She struggled in the chair, trying to find a weakness in the bonds.

"I'm curious," she heard a man's voice from behind her. "What did you plan to do after you had freed yourself from that chair?"

He moved in front of her so that she had a full view of him. It was Maximilian, the Omega werewolf who had attacked her months ago. She tried to remain calm.

"I see you got yourself knocked up," he said, gesturing to her swelling stomach. She instinctively went to put her hands on her belly, but the bonds prevented her from doing so.

"I thought you and your friend got scared off," she hissed, perhaps to confidently.

"Scared, no. Startled, yes. We weren't expecting to find a true wolf," he said. "So we left, regrouped, and came back."

"And now you should leave again."

"Why would we do that? We're having so much fun!" he laughed.

"What kind of fun?" she asked, worried.

"Well, totalling your Jeep, that was a real hoot."

Stiles heart dropped. They had been the ones that crashed into her and then fled the scene, almost killing her.

"You could've killed me and my friends," she gritted her teeth furiously.

"We didn't intend to, just wanted to mess with your heads," he admitted.

"I'm pregnant, would you really harm an unborn child?!" she yelled.

"No. But an unborn werewolf is another story."

"How do you know it's a werewolf?" she asked curiously.

"I can smell it," he grinned maliciously. Damn, she had forgotten about that.

"What do you want from me? My Dad was waiting for me at that store, he would've noticed I was gone about a minute later, which means the whole Beacon Hills police force, and my friends, are out looking for me."

"That's exactly the point," he told her. "We've had enough fun messing with your friends, now it's time for the big show."

"What do you mean 'messing with my friends'? What else have you done?" she demanded.

"They didn't tell you? We've been spooking them for weeks. Following them, making sure they don't sleep, and other werewolf scare-tactics."

Stiles was hurt. Her friends hadn't said a word about that to her. She'd been so busy wrapped up in her own problems, physical and emotional, that she didn't think of them.

"Please just leave us alone," she said quietly.

"Once we have your True Alpha's power, we will. Anyone who stands in our way until then will suffer the consequences. But now, the show begins."

He gestured to whoever was standing behind Stiles and she untied from the chair, only to be gripped by two pairs of strong hands with sharp claws. One of them she recognized from the night she first met Maximilian – Diego. The other she had never seen before.

"I see your pack has grown," she said as they dragged her out of the basement. They carried her into the house above them and then outside into the cool summer air. It was dusk. There were another two Omegas standing in the front yard, waiting for them. How long had she been out? Hours? Days? They appeared to be at an empty house on the outskirts of town, heading into the woods. If she screamed it was unlikely someone would hear her.

"Time to call your friends," Maximilian said. He nodded to Diego, who began to dig his claws into Stiles' arm again, like they had before the night they first met, which had resulted in her scars.

"Wait! No! Stop! Please!" she begged, desperately struggling under the grip of the two Omegas. "Not like that!"

Maximilian raised his hand and Diego stopped.

"Please don't hurt me again," she pleaded. "I can give you Scott's number, you can call him, and you don't have to hurt me."

Maximilian moved closer to her.

"No, but we want to," he grinned, his eyes wild. He lifted his leg up and swiftly stomped down, breaking through Stiles' cast and crushing her already broken ankle.

She screamed like she had never screamed in her life. It was the worst pain she had ever felt. More than when her arm had been scarred, more than being in a car crash, more than being beat by Gerard Argent or possessed by the Nogistune. She wanted to die, for the pain to end, but he kept pressing down, flattening her ankle. She knew he was only doing it to make her scream but she couldn't stop. Her whole leg shot with pain and she felt like she was going to pass out. Hell, she would have loved to pass out.

After God knows how long, he finally lifted his foot off her ankle (or what was left of it), and they allowed her to fall backwards onto the ground. She continued to cry and scream, the pain still excruciating. She thought at this point it would hurt less to have it amputated. She lay there, rolling in pain, until her friends – Scott, Malia, Liam, Kira, and Lydia, inevitably showed up.

They attempted to approach her, but Diego stepped in front of her, shielding her from them.

"Let her go!" Scott yelled. He was trying to sound strong but Stiles could detect the fear in his voice. He could see how much pain she was in. He could feel it from her scent. All of them could.

"We will," Maximilian spoke. "As soon as you step forward and give us you power."

"You mean let you kill him?" Malia said.

"That's another way of putting it."

"Why do you want my power so badly?" Scott asked.

"I've had my own Omega pack for a while now," Maximilian explained. "And I figured it was time I became an Alpha to them, a True Alpha."

"You won't become a True Alpha if you steal his powers," Kira pointed out.

"I know!" he snapped. "But I will still be a powerful one."

There was a moment of tense silence.

"So what will it be?" he asked, speaking directly to Scott.

Scott looked at Stiles, writhing and crying on the ground. Her ankle was twisted and all messed up, he wondered if the doctors would be able to fix it. He knew he couldn't let her or her unborn baby get hurt because of him.

Stiles saw Scott's hesitation. She knew he would give up his power for her. He would die for her.

"Don't do it Scott!" she managed to yell between cries of pain. Maximilian growled at her and Diego instantly crushed her uninjured leg, snapping her shinbones. Her pack leapt forward and attacked. It was a True Alpha, a Werecoyote, a Kitsune, and a Beta Werewolf against five Omegas. Four against five. Lydia, of course, couldn't fight. So while the rest of the pack was distracted with the fight, Lydia snuck around to where Stiles lay on the ground, delirious with pain. There was no more screaming.

"Stiles?" Lydia whispered, shaking her slightly. "Stiles look at me."

Stiles eyes flittered to Lydia's face, her vision blurry.

"Lydia?" she said.

"Yes it's me," Lydia responded. "Listen, I'm going to drag you out of here, and it's going to hurt like hell, but to you've got to be quiet, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles mumbled, on the brink of unconsciousness.

Lydia grabbed her by the shirt and began pulling her across the ground away from the fight. The pain from her broken legs being dragged along was enough to make her scream, but she bit her hand as hard she could to resist the urge.

Suddenly, Lydia released her grip from Stiles shoulders and there was silence. She waited for something to happen, and then twisted around to look at Lydia, who was standing deadly still, staring straight ahead.

"Lydia?" she said, not sure what was going on.

Seconds later, Lydia screamed. Not a normal scream, but the scream of a Banshee.

Stiles looked ahead and saw before her Diego. He had followed them. He was torn and bloody from the fight, but still a thousand times stronger than both of them put together and thirsty for blood.

Lydia grabbed Stiles again and dragged her as fast as she could.

"Lydia leave me!" she yelled. "Run!"

Diego leapt forward and grabbed Stiles by her broken ankle, causing her to yelp in pain again. He yanked her leg, releasing her from Lydia's grip and pulling her closer to him, so close that he was basically on top of her. He raised a clawed hand, ready to slash her exposed throat, and Stiles braced herself for death. She cradled her stomach gently, silently apologizing to her unborn baby for not being able to protect it properly.

There was a loud, frightening growl from out of nowhere, and Diego was promptly pushed off of Stiles. She turned over; expecting to see Scott or Kira or Liam or Malia, but it was Derek. He wasn't in his full wolf form, but he was still a werewolf. He approached Diego and they engaged in a fight. It didn't last long. Derek was too powerful and angry for Diego. It was a few hits and scratches, and he was out cold on the ground.

Derek took no time or pride after his victory, instead he walked straight over to Stiles and lifted her up in his arms. He and Lydia raced through the woods to the road, where Lydia's car was parked. Lydia got in the driver's seat while Derek and Stiles got in the back. She drove quickly through town as Stiles screamed and moaned. Derek did his best to help ease her pain, though there was only so much he could do before he himself was severely weakened. They were at the hospital in no time, and Lydia got out of the car in front of the emergency room to go and get help.

Left alone, Derek softly stroked her hair.

"I'm not leaving you Stiles," he whispered. "I'm not leaving either of you."

Stiles wasn't sure if he was talking about her and Lydia or her and the baby. It didn't matter at that moment. The doctors rushed out to the car, put her on a stretcher, and raced her inside to the emergency room.

"Is this Miss Stilinski?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Lydia said.

"Where did you find her?"

"We were driving around town looking for her and we found her on the side of the road, I think she was mugged," Lydia lied. "She's pregnant."

"We know."

Stiles felt something pinch her forearm and was hit with an instant drowsiness and flooded with relief. The pain was still there but she was far away from it. The doctors took her into another room where they cut off the rest of her cast and thoroughly examined her, x-rays and all that. Her Dad arrived as they were giving her an ultrasound. The baby was a little distressed, but otherwise healthy. It was strong.

"Stiles?" it was her Dad, he grasped her hand. "Stiles I'm right here. Is she okay?" He was speaking to the doctor now.

"We can't be sure yet. She has a concussion and her baby is fine, but it's her legs we're worried about," he explained. "The shinbones on her right leg – the tibia and fibula – have both been snapped and will need to be in a cast for at least 8 weeks. As for left ankle, we need to operate immediately. It's been severely crushed and we need to correct it before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" the Sheriff demanded.

"We have to warn you right now, Sheriff, she may lose her ankle," the doctor said. Her Dad looked at her as they began pulling her away in the stretcher, towards the operating room.

"You'll be okay, Stiles," he said, his voice uncertain. "You're a Stilinski, you're strong."

Stiles tried to sit up, to say something to her father, but she was too weak. She let the morphine consume, she enjoyed it. She didn't know what she was going to wake up to, or if she was going to wake up at all. Would she lose her ankle? Would her friends still be alive? Would her baby be okay? These questions could only be answered when the operation was over, and the sooner she was asleep, the better. She closed her eyes, and let the fog take her.