Chapter 26: Advice Column of Alan Deaton
"I think you've been hiding in that basement long enough, Stiles. Time to get up."
There was a weight burying itself inside Stiles' chest as he heaved a breath, staring back at the vampire, and then letting his blown wide eyes shift toward the veterinarian.
"I," Stiles swallowed, schooling his features and bringing his head down until he was glaring at the candle. "I don't know how."
"Okay, doc," Damon leaned back, "Disney this up for the princess. But if you break into song, I'll break you."
Deaton shook his head at the younger man and stepped forward to take his place in front of the boy.
"You do what I've been telling you all along, Stiles. What, in I think was his own - unique - way, Mr. Salvatore was telling you to do. Believe. Not in magic. Not in some new family history. In you. You need to be that spark again, Stiles. You need to believe."
Stiles swallowed again, and then once more. Sweaty palms wiped against blue jean pockets. A single, frantic heartbeat - steadied. Wet lashes and lids drew downward. There were no threats or jokes from the vampire. No platitudes or placations from the hunter. No words of wisdom from the vet.
The ghost in the corner watched her pupil, gaze unwavering from his shut eyes and still form.
And she knew. Something in the air shifted. If she were still alive, she would have felt the magic thrumming through the very molecules that surrounded them.
She was already smiling when the flame was birthed, and the candle, at last, was lit.
She was on fire. Since that first broken bone and twisted muscle, her flesh had flared. Erica didn't have hybrid healing, so they were stuck taking it slow, breaking one or a few bones at a time, waiting for them to heal, and then moving forward. She was healing, and a few times her eyes had changed and her teeth had barred, but nothing much else was happening. Whatever was keeping the effects of the full moon at bay, was weakening her connection of the wolf. Tyler was just happy it hadn't cut it off completely.
The hybrid had been able to break almost all of his bones at once, over and over again. At this rate, it was going to take weeks with Erica. They didn't even know if it was working. They wouldn't. Until the full moon rose and their captors decided they'd starved the lions long enough. But, like he had said, it was still something. And despite the torture, it made them both feel productive.
A whole month and Derek and Stefan were out of ways for making themselves, and their pack and friends, feel productive. The regular town sweeps, hunting down and contacting witches, even simple sparring, all had long since fallen short. The only thing that seemed to be making any progress was Scott's studies. Caroline had joined the fold with Stefan for the mission. The older vampire gave the young werewolf reading lists, while she gave him pop quizzes on SAT questions, usually while quite literally popping out to startle him and "keep him on his toes". The rest of Scott's time was spent at the clinic with Deaton, who had grown even more suspicious in his actions and secrets, if that was possible. Despite the Doc's reluctance to answer any of his questions, Scott still worked often, and hard. He was saving for some wheels of his own, not wanting to have to rely on Stiles for the rest of his teenage life. Not that he expected his friend would be giving him any rides to school come fall. Neither had spoken to the other since their argument.
"Scott?"
The werewolf blinked, glancing over at his boss.
"Sorry, Doc. Just -"
"Distracted?" Deaton smirked. "Seems to be a common occurrence lately. What was it this time?"
"Nothing, nothing. I'm okay."
"Oh, really? Looks to me like you're a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. What's bothering you?"
"Other than the fact that Erica and Boyd are still missing? That the Alpha pack is still out there and we have no clue what they're planning. That there are vampires living in Beacon Hills, and one of them almost killed a person yesterday because he was drunk or something? That it's been a month since I spoke to Allison and I try not to think about her, and then I feel guilty for missing her because who knows what's happening to Boyd and Erica. That the person I'd usually talk to about all of this, my best friend, since forever, and I aren't speaking right now. All of this bad stuff is happening, and I can't do anything about it."
Deaton sighed, stepping around the table and then leaning against it across from the teenager.
"Scott, what do you do every day?"
"I go to work. Study. Help my mom around the house. Check in with Derek and see if I can help."
"You see Blue here," Deaton nodded toward the table, petting the black lab. "She got hit by a car today and I helped her. Can I help every animal that gets hit by a car? Or abused by their owner? Or gets sick? No. Is that my fault? No. What I can do, is help Blue get home to her family. And you helped her too. Scott, do you know where Erica and Boyd are being kept?"
"No."
"Do you have any way of figuring that out?"
"Me? No."
"Did you bring the vampires into town?"
Scott shook his head.
"Does thinking about Allison hurt your friends?"
Another shake of the head, this time hesitant.
"There's a lot happening around you that isn't your fault and that you can't control. You can't let that define you. And, Scott, I'm pretty sure there wassomething in that list that you gave that you can control."
Scott met the man's knowing eyes and sighed, bowing his head.
"Stiles."
"You want to control something? You want to fix something? Mend your relationship with your friend."
"My friend almost died because he was involved in - in all this. Doc, I watched him die. He was - he was gone. I felt what it was like without him. I can't do that again. I can't put him in danger again."
Deaton's lips twitched up, and a hand came to rest on the younger man's shoulder.
"I think you'll find that Stiles is far more capable than you believe."
