We pulled up behind the clinic to the garage and Stiles was behind me.
"Go get the key.", I tell him before opening the passenger door. Derek looked like he was ready to pass out. "C'mere, big guy.", I say, pulling him out of the car.
His body leaned against me as I helped him to the door. Stiles came back with the key and unlocked the padlock on the garage door and hoisted the door up with a rattle.
Derek winced as dogs began to bark inside. I walked him into the garage as Stiles turned on the dim light. I lowered Derek onto a pile of bagged dog food and crouched down to him, taking my sleeve and wiping his face with it.
Stiles' phone gave a ring and he pulled it out of his pocket, looking at a text message.
"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?", Stiles asked.
"It's kinda a wolf's bait.", Derek rasped. "A rare form." Derek's breathing got more ragged. "He has to bring me the bullet."
"Why?", Stiles asked.
"Because he'll die without it, Stiles. Obviously." I said. "Come on, let's get him inside.", I lifted Derek back up as Stiles unlocked the door.
I walked him to the back room and he began to walk on his own. He hurriedly took off his shirt and tossed it aside in frustration.
I noticed three spirals were tattooed onto his upper back, all connected. I wondered if it was a pack thing.
I looked at his left arm to see blood oozing out from the bullet hold and black tints of his veins going up and down his arm as he turned to the table in front of us.
"You know," Stiles started. "that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of."
I placed my hands on my hips, looking at Stiles in disbelief.
"If the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me.", Derek rasped.
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?", Stiles asked sarcastically. Derek went over to the drawers under the counter and began to rummage through.
"You're not helping.", I told Stiles, looking around for a tourniquet.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, last resort.", Derek says.
"Which is?", Stiles and I asked. Derek turned around and had a saw in his hands.
"You're gonna cut off my arm.", Derek slid the saw across the table to Stiles and Stiles picked it up.
"Huh??", I looked at him and the saw. "What type of resort is that!?"
"It's my last one. I'll live… but...", he panted.
"I don't think I can do this.", Stiles said.
"Why not?", Derek growled at him.
"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing through the bone, and especially the blood."
"You faint at the sight of blood?", Derek asked, incrediously.
"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm.", Stiles said.
"All right, fine, how about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head.", Derek threatened weakly.
"Ok, you know what, I'm so not buying your threats any-" Stiles couldn't finish his lie because Derek reached over and snatched the collar of Stiles' shirt. "Oh my god. Ok, ok. Bought, sold, whatever."
Derek began to heave and he turned his head over the table, gagging black ooze that spilled from his mouth. "Holy god, what the hell is that?", Stiles whined.
"It's my body trying to heal itself.", Derek said, laying his upper body on the table.
"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it."
"Now, you have to do it now.", Derek rasped, looking up at Stiles.
"Look, honestly, I don't think I can do it."
"Just do it!" I covered my eyes as Stiles revved up the saw.
"Stiles? Sam??", Scott called from the other room.
"Scott?", I ran over to the door only to be stopped by him. Scott appeared in the room and looked at the saw to Stiles and to Derek and back again.
"What the hell are you doing!?", Scott exclaimed in shock.
Stiles chuckled and set down the saw. "Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares."
"Did you get it?", Derek asked, weakly. He straightened up as Scott handed him a long, gold bullet.
"What're you gonna to do with it?", I asked.
"I'm gonna--" Derek's eyes suddenly fluttered closed as he collapsed to the ground. "Derek!", I exclaimed, kneeling down to his level.
As Derek fell to the ground, he dropped the bullet and it rolled into a drain. "Shit!", I say. Scott ran to the bullet and tried to reach it.
I patted Derek's cheek. "Hey, you gotta get up! Derek?? You gotta tell us what to do! Derek, wake up!", I yelled, tearing up in panic.
"Scott, what the hell are we going to do?", Stiles asked.
"I don't know!", Scott yelled as he continued to reach for the bullet. "I can't reach it."
"He's not waking up!", I said, looking at Scott.
"I think he's dying. I think he's dead.", Stiles said.
"Just hold on!" Scott said. "I got it!", he exclaimed.
Stiles pushed me out of the way. "Please don't kill me for this.", Stiles said as he pulled back his fist and punched Derek in the jaw.
Stiles held his fist as he groaned in pain, but woke up Derek.
We lifted Derek and Scott handed him the bullet. Derek bit the tip off and poured the gunpowder out. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the gunpowder.
As it sizzled, blue smoke arose. Derek scooped up the burnt gunpowder into his hand and reluctantly dumped it into the bullet hole in his arm.
He yelled in pain and fell back down to the floor, arching his back in pain. We watched as the poison in his arm disappeared and the hole closed up and Derek eventually calmed down.
"That was awesome!", Stiles exclaimed. I huffed in annoyance and relief.
"Are you ok?", Scott asked.
"Well, except for the agonizing pain.", Derek growled sarcastically.
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.", Stiles said. Derek stood up and glared at him.
I sighed, smiling in relief. "I'm just glad you didn't die on us. I don't know what I would've done."
Derek's frown softened as he looked at me then looked away. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Ok, we saved your life," Scott said, pulling me and Stiles away from Derek. "Which means you're gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don't then I'm going to go back to Allison's dad and I'm gonna tell them everything."
"You're gonna trust them?", Derek gave a scoffing chuckle. "You think that they can help you?"
"Well, why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are.", Scott countered.
"Oh, I can show you exactly how nice they are.", Derek challenged, making Scott falter.
"What do you mean?"
Derek led us to the Beacon Crossing Home and we got out. We followed Derek inside and down a hallway to a room. We walked in and saw a man in a wheelchair by a window with his back to us.
"Who is he?", Scott whispered.
"My uncle.", Derek answered. "Peter Hale."
"Is he a werewolf like you?", I asked softly.
"He was.", Derek said. "Now he's barely even human. Six years ago, my sister and I were at school and our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor.", Derek says, solemnly.
"So, what makes you so sure that they set the fire?", Scott asked.
"Cause they're the only ones who knew about us.", Derek said.
"Well, then, they had a reason.", Scott said. I looked at Scott in disbelief. "Really, Scott??"
"Like what? You tell me what justifies this.", Derek turned the wheel chair around to reveal the right side of Peter's face that was seared and burnt.
"They say they'll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. And it's what Allison will do.", Derek declared, grimly.
"What are you doing?" A high pitch, clear woman's voice sounded in the doorway, making us all jump. I looked and saw a red headed woman in uniform standing there. "How did you get in here?"
"We were just leaving.", Derek growled out before leading us out in a hurry.
We dropped Scott off at his place before Stiles dropped me off at mine. Derek had gotten out with me, Stiles hurriedly drove off.
"They're such assholes.", I say, sighing at the retreating jeep.
Derek huffed. "They're just scared. It's normal."
I nodded in understanding. "You're a ways far from your place, y'know. Did you want me to drop you off?"
Derek didn't say anything. "Did you wanna come in? We could talk some more? Or you could rest? I don't know if you wanna go back home just yet after everything today.", I say.
He didn't say anything but nodded. Thankfully, mom wasn't home tonight and we walked inside. I locked the front door and looked at Derek as he looked around.
"Nice place.", he compliments. I smile. "Are you feeling up to eating anything? You kinda did puke your guts out.", I say, walking toward the dining room.
He huffed. "I guess."
I looked for some snacks, albeit being late but I didn't wanna make him wait until the next time he'd eat.
I pulled out a bag of chicken nuggets and hurried them into the oven. I heard him scoff. "Chicken nuggets? What're you, 5?"
I turned to him. "Excuse me, sir, but you're in no condition to complain. Plus, it's not a bad thing to eat this late at night anyways so you're welcome."
He gave me a half smile and it made me look at him in astonishment. The smile quickly went away. "What?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Just never seen you smile like that."
His frown deepened. "It's not a bad thing! Promise!", I rushed. He rolled his eyes as a slight smile appeared on his face again. Tonight was definitely a long night indeed.
After getting him to finally eat, we went upstairs to my room and sat down to talk.
"So… your uncle.", I start. He looks at me with a frown. I raise my hand before he can start. "Just lemme know if I'm overstepping boundaries here.", I say before continuing.
"Why did the Argents even know about your family to begin with?", I asked. He looked at his hands.
"That's just what they do. It's a whole family line with them. A whole family tree of hunters.", he says.
"How did they find out that you had werewolves in your family?", I asked. His frown deepened as if he was considering his next answer. "Someone did their research and got nosy… next thing I know, I'm walking up to see my house in flames.", he says, shaking his head.
"Why do you stay at the house? Couldn't you find somewhere else to live?", I asked.
"Okay.", he says, bluntly. I grimaced. "Too much?" He nods. "Too much."
I sigh. At least I'm getting some understanding unlike the two idiots.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine losing my mom, my brother or Scott and Stiles.", I say, sadly.
He turned to me. "You have a brother?" I nodded. "He doesn't live with us anymore. Moved out the first chance he could get. Never understood why."
His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded in understanding. "I wish I could say the same."
I frowned softly and lifted a hand to rub at his back. He looked at me in confusion. "The hell are you doing…?"
I drop my hand in embarrassment. "I was trying to comfort you, you ass!", I exclaimed.
His eyes widened, taken aback. "I never said it was bad!"
"Well then, quit making it weird!", I argued. I sighed, scratching at the base of my neck. "Thanks, I guess.", I hear him mumble.
I give him a slight smile. "You're welcome, I guess."