Chapter 16: An Englishman and a Stiles

I was moaning in pain through my teeth as well as panting heavily. The man in black started looking around the room as if he were a prospective buyer for the house, ignoring me while the blood seeped from my leg and into the carpet. I removed my hands from my wound and tried to magically stop him from moving.

"Oh dear, I'm almost offended," He drawled while still moving. I froze, staring at my hands. "You're worth thirty million dollars on a supernatural dead pool, don't you think I would've done my research?"

"You know about me?" I groaned, biting down on my lip when my leg spasmed painfully.

"I know about all of you, including your friends that are currently at the school bonfire. That knife currently sitting in your leg is laced with mistletoe, enough to keep you out of commission, at least while we have fun."

"Something tells me you and I have different ideas of fun," I grunted, trying my best to even my breathing. I also tried to move my leg, but I was hit with flashes of excruciating pain. It was hard for me to focus, but I did my best to keep attention on the man staring around my room.

He had an air about him that reminded me of someone I would see in my parent's lifestyle. Like he would fit right in in a suit and tie at a benefit for some charity. I would've thought him handsome had it not been for the fact that he just threw a knife into my leg, and he was tauntingly playing with another one.

His hair was slicked back and his beard was trimmed closely to his face, blue eyes shining in the dim light of my lamp that I had left on before I went to the bonfire. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, which made him seem paler than what I think he actually was. Handsome or not, he said something that caught my attention.

"What do you mean, Ginny's busy?" I asked, finally having enough energy to think somewhat clearly.

He sighed, "Well she wasn't on the list, and there really is no reason to kill off such a pretty bird when she doesn't have an even prettier price over her head." He had a British accent of all things, and talked smoothly with a posh polish.

"What did you do to her?" I began to panic, wondering where she was and just how I could get past this man to get to her. "Enough about her, though, let's talk about me. I'm sure you're wondering just who I am."

"Maybe a little bit," I snapped, trying to stop the blood from escaping around the knife still stuck in my leg.

"Well it's a good thing you're not too concerned, because I wasn't going to tell you." I stared blankly at him.

"Well just to keep the conversation going, I'm gonna call you Slice," I bit back sarcastically, wondering where the hell I had dropped my phone.

"Terrible nickname, but it's quite fortunate that you won't be alive long enough for it to really annoy me." He promptly turned around and walked back inside the en-suite bathroom. I whipped my head around as best as I could manage before spotting my phone nearly under my bed. Leaning over, and swallowing the whimpers of pain, I grabbed a hold of my phone and hastily shoved it in my vest pocket. Just in time too, for Slice walked out right after I placed my hands back on my wound.

"Time to go, darling," He was quick to advance over to me, and I was too slow to try and fight back before he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me out of the room. I cried out in pain as my legs were jostled around with the knife still stuck in it.

Slice held me over the edge of the stairs by my hair, and was quickly face-to-face with me. I sucked in a sharp breath as he grinned in a terrifying manner.

"Now, love, here's the thing you should know: I like to play with my food before I eat it," My eyes widened, "This should be fun," Was all he said before sending me hurtling down the stairs. I felt my legs go over my head at least once, and several painful blows to my ribcage before my world was once again at a stand-still, only this time at the bottom of the stairs. Not even allowing the pain to overtake me, I started pushing myself over to the front door. Weakly, my hand reached up to the door handle, but I was stopped by a hand grabbing my wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah, June, why are you trying to leave? I thought we were having such a magnificent time together," His smile was sickly sweet, and it took all I had not to retaliate. As a means of punishment, I suppose, Slice pulled the knife out of my leg ever-so-slowly. He stared intently at my face as it twisted up in pain, and I couldn't help but cry out. His eyes were shining as he stared down at the now open wound. Following his gaze, I started to internally panic at the amount of blood that was leaking from the wound. I also realized that the mistletoe was not actively entering my bloodstream anymore, meaning I only had about ten minutes left without my magic.

"Now, now, be a good girl and come with me to the kitchen, shall we?" He dragged me by the arms, and I lay limp, not wanting to make this any easier for him. He dropped me in the middle of the kitchen and set down a bag I hadn't noticed slung around his shoulders on top of the counter. He pulled out a rope, and began unwinding it. Slice was quick in tying my wrists behind my back and my ankles over one another.

"Odd question, but do you have a speaker system?" I was too focused on trying to breathe properly since it was painful to even inhale. I heard him tut and leave the kitchen. Realizing that I might not get another chance, I wriggled my vest around until I could dig my bound hands into the pocket and reach my phone. Pulling it out ever-so-carefully, I turned my head around to make sure that my blood-soaked hands could still unlock it. As if some higher being was on my side, it unlocked on the first try. I was quick to go into my phone app, and check my favorites list.

My process was cut off with the sound of Tchaikovsky, followed by the same footsteps. Pressing what I hoped was the right name, I saw the call go through before stuffing it back into my pocket and twisting back around. Just in the nick of time, for Slice strode back into the kitchen.

"This is so much better," He began, "Now I can think properly."

To spare the gory details, I'll summarize: He beat the crap out of me. By the time he straightened up, only slightly out of breath, I was a sight. I was still bleeding from my leg, my shirt was torn in places from all the kicks landed to my torso, and my lip was split open and bleeding. I was sure to have a black eye, and could feel blood trickle down from my nose. I leaned back against the cabinets, wheezing with every breath that I took. At this point I was fairly certain that at least one rib was fractured, and my shoulders were locking up in their position behind my back.

"I think it's time, don't you agree?" I nearly vomited at the sight of my blood splattered across his face. He creeped forward with a knife in hand, and raised it above his head. Bringing it down, I heard it clatter to the ground. I realized that the mistletoe had worn off at the perfect moment, and my magic returning sent me across the kitchen before I could die.

Slice seemed at a loss for words. Adrenaline fired up my system, and I suddenly had tunnel vision. The rope untied itself from my hands, and slithered over to Slice. Whipping upwards at the speed of light, it bound itself to him, effectively forcing him to relinquish the knife that was originally intended to be used against me.

"I don't understand - I - the mistletoe-"

"Is not like wolfsbane. Mistletoe eventually leaves the bloodstream, and you took out the only way it would stay in." I saw him glance at my leg, and I saw nothing but red. Closing my eyes, I let my magic take over, thinking of only ways to inflict pain and suffering the same way he did to me. When I was slipping, all I could hear was Stiles' voice calling out to me. Blood was rushing through my ears but his voice still called out to me as clear as day.

It slowly grew louder and louder in volume until I realized it wasn't Stiles calling out my name. And it wasn't in my head, either.

"June!" I snapped my head to the side to see Sheriff Stilinski pointing his gun at Slice, who was on the floor, nearly unconscious. I felt the sheer fury subside and I looked on in relief at his presence.

"Sheriff?"

He holstered his weapon, "I got your call. An ambulance is on its way, where's Ginny?"

I rounded on Slice, and I fell down to my knees with an ease that I didn't know was actually possible due to my injuries. In a low, menacing voice, I spoke, "Where's Ginny?"

There must've been a look on my face that he didn't like, for he cowered in fear. "Upstairs," He spit out, blood dribbling down his chin. I scowled at his appearance, and how pathetic he looked after a seventeen-year-old girl got her hands on him. Grabbing his collar with both hands, I slammed his head into the wall, and he slumped over in unconsciousness. Just as the sheriff helped me up, we heard sirens wail down our street. Throwing an arm over his shoulder, the sheriff carried me out front to the arriving ambulance and backup.

"Ginny-" I started, the strength disappearing and the blood loss taking its toll.

"I'm going back to go get her, but you need a hospital, stat," He assured me and at the same time, ushered me into the arms of the paramedics that flung open their back doors. They all lifted me up onto the gurney in the back, and the last thing I remember was one of the EMT's flashing a light in my eyes before they rolled into the back of my head, and I slipped into a painful unconsciousness.

My eyes fluttered open and I immediately had the crushing feeling that I was still stuck with Slice. I flung my body upwards into a sitting position and felt a stabbing pain in my right side. Feeling a hand on my arm, I whipped my head to the side only to see Melissa McCall. Her eyes were wide, no doubt mirroring my own, and her hand gently moved to my back. Stroking up and down, she didn't remove her hand until I was calm.

Glancing around me, I could see daylight flooding into an apparent hospital room. I was attached to an IV as well as a several other machines I didn't want to worry about. I started removing all the things that weren't protruding from my skin, like the clip that was on my finger, and the band encasing my arm. I flinched the whole way through, and Melissa grabbed my arm when she eventually caught on to what I was doing.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"I need to speak to the sheriff," I insisted, and Melissa's grip held firm.

"Yeah, I don't think so. Sweetie, look at the state of yourself, you have a three fractured ribs, two black eyes, a minor concussion, and not to mention the amount of blood loss you sustained due to the knife that went through a major artery in your leg. June, you shouldn't even be awake right now."

"I need to know what happened to him, what happened to Ginny."

"The man's name is Ethan Brehm, he's been on the FBI's Most Wanted for three years. The sheriff has him in custody, his wounds weren't as severe as yours. They're arranging a transfer within the hour to San Francisco. He's never going to bother any of us again."

I nodded, tears collecting in my eyes as I remembered what happened what must have only been last night. It was a face that would haunt my dreams indefinitely. It was also the first time I had ever wished someone had died, as some kind of sick eye for an eye. Bile rose in my throat as I lifted the covers off my legs to see an incredibly large bandage wrapped around the entirety of my thigh, replacing the knife that had made a home there for a brief period.

"And Ginny?" I muttered thickly, trying to take my mind off of him. When Melissa said nothing in reply, my head shot up to meet her hesitant gaze.

"Melissa," I interrogated, "Where is she?"

"She's still in intensive care," Melissa replied quietly, and I tensed.

"Why?"

"She took significant blows to the head. We're guessing one was caused by Brehm, and the other was a result of her falling onto something like the corner of a counter of some sort." My breathing picked up again, and the tears couldn't seem to stop falling. Melissa rest a gentle and reassuring hand back on my shoulder as I collected my thoughts.

"I'm seeing her," I stated, continuing to remove machinery from my body.

"You're getting rest, and you're getting it now," She ordered, and I huffed.

"No offense, Melissa, but you couldn't really stop me," I scoffed, continuing to move until I winced in pain from the ache in my ribs.

"No offense, June, but I'm not going to have to," She mocked, and I rolled my eyes before staring up at her.

"Please, she's all I have," I argued quietly, and I watched her resolve crumble.

"You and Stiles are too alike for anyone's good," She remarked and I froze.

"Stiles?"

Melissa's expression grew into one that read, "I should not have said that," when she turned to face me again.

"Stiles and Lydia went to Eichen last night after they cracked Lorraine's list. It turns out Brunski was working for Meredith, who is apparently the benefactor."

My eyes widened, "Are they okay?"

"Aside from their own brush with death, yes. Stiles is downstairs with a concussion and Lydia is at the station trying to get Meredith to talk."

I paused, "Okay there is no way in hell that I'm staying put now, Melissa. I need to talk to Stiles."

Melissa sighed and strode to the door, "I somehow knew you were going to keep trying." she opened it and was out in the hallway. Before I could even move any more, she came back in with a wheelchair. She instructed me to sit and hold onto the IV stand while she wheeled me out of my room.

We sat in the elevator as she pressed the button for the second floor, and we let the silence envelop us. She soothingly rubbed my shoulders as I anxiously bounced my good leg waiting for the moment where I would see my boyfriend.

She parked me outside the door as she walked in. My heart started pounding when I heard his voice.

"Hey, did you find the tape player?"

"No, but I did find a patient who was adamant on seeing you," She replied before walking out to me. She grabbed my hand and stood me up so that I could walk into the room. Stiles' eyes flicked up to me when I rounded the corner, and immediately he stood up to face me. Worry stretched across his features as he looked me up and down.

"June? Oh my god, what the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing I can't handle," I replied back in what I thought was a reassuring manner, but appeared to only make Stiles' worry increase tenfold. Behind me, I heard the door shut, and soon the only sounds I could hear were mine and Stiles' breathing.

"I heard you and Lydia almost got killed," I stated, ignoring my shaking hands.

"Scott, Liam, and Malia too," My eyes widened in surprise, "Someone tried to burn them last night at the bonfire," He must've noticed my worried expression, "They're all fine, though. Derek came through and kicked the crap out of them."

"And you?" I asked, and his gaze met mine. I noticed his hands were fidgeting in an uncomfortable manner.

"What about me?"

"Are you fine?"

"No," His reply was almost immediate, "I missed my girlfriend's call last night. And now I know she was calling for help. How could I be fine?"

"I didn't call you for help last night," I stated, and Stiles cocked his head.

"Oh, you - you didn't?" He scratched his temple, and I almost smiled.

"No, I didn't."

"Well then why - why did you call me?"

"I called you to tell you that I love you, Stiles."

His eyes went wide, "You do?"

I rolled my eyes and limped forward, "Yes you idiot, I love you. But you scared me."

"How did I scare you?"

"I just got you," I answered, and frustration flickered across his eyes.

"Yeah, so you keep saying."

"You mean everything to me, and I want to be with you. If something were to happen to my parents, the coven would find a way to blame Ginny and me. In retaliation they would likely tell surrounding covens about my existence. I would have to leave Beacon Hills, leave my friends, leave you. That's why I was so angry, because I cannot take that chance, Stiles, not with you."

Stiles' gaze softened into remorse. He guiltily stared down at his hands before speaking, "I thought I was going to lose you if I did tell you about your parents."

I quirked an eyebrow, "How so?"

"I thought you would accept the invitation to go back to New York just so you could keep an eye on your parents. I just didn't want you to leave me, not when I just got you."

I almost laughed, "Stiles, you need to know that I don't want to leave you. I love you, and I want to be by your side."

"You do?"

"I'm so sorry I shut you out," I told him in earnest, "And I hope you can forgive me."

"As long as you can forgive me for not telling you about your parents," He countered, and I couldn't help but smile and nod. He walked over to me and slowly tucked my hair behind my ear. He gently grabbed a hold of my face and delicately kissed me. I couldn't help but smile into the kiss, reveling in the fact that I was in his arms again.

On any other day I would have loved to have him wrap his arms around me, but this time all I felt was pain. I flinched as he pulled me closer to him, breaking from the kiss. When he opened his eyes, they flashed worryingly as he looked down at my own face, which was screwed up in discomfort.

"Oh god, did I hurt you?" He asked me and I shook my head.

"No, no, I just have a fractured rib that I forgot about."

"How do you just forget you have a broken rib?"

"I kind of forget about a lot of things when I'm kissing you, Stiles," I defended, and a boastful smile creeped onto Stiles' face.

"It's a good thing we're in a hospital, then."

"Yeah, about that," I started, "I need to get out of here."

Stiles stared at me in disbelief, "You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious, I need to go back home."

"You need to get some rest, is what you need," he argued, ushering me over to the bed in his room. I dug my heels into the linoleum in attempt to retaliate.

"Back home were some ingredients Ginny and I bought to make a stronger healing potion. I need to go make a batch and then come back here."

"Why do you need to come back here?" Stiles asked and I flinched.

"Um - Ginny, she - uh - she's here."

"Ginny's here? Did something happen to her?"

I stared down at my hands, "Yeah - um - Melissa kind of skirted around it but as far as I know she's in a coma because of what happened."

"What did happen?"

"I can show you if you take me home."

"June, I don't think that's a good idea, really. The dead pool is still up and running, what if someone tries to hurt you again?"

"All the more reason to make a healing potion. I need to heal so I can defend myself and others if need be."

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, "You're going home with or without my help, aren't you?"

I pat him on the shoulder, "That's a given by now, Stilinski."

"Why are we dating again?"

I grinned, "Are you going to help me out or what?"

Stiles shrugged off his flannel, "Yeah, yeah. Here, put this on." He helped me put it on in a way that didn't involve much effort on my part. His flannel was warm and smelled of him, and for the first time, I could understand the appeal of wearing a significant other's clothing. Quickly, Stiles left a note in the room for Melissa explaining our whereabouts. Clad in nothing more than socks, the flannel, and a hospital gown, Stiles escorted me out of the room and into the busy hallway of the hospital.

It was fairly easy getting out of the hospital, which worried me slightly. Ultimately, we just had to get to the elevators and past reception, so it wasn't terribly difficult a task to begin with, but still, nobody bothered to stop the girl in the hospital gown.

Not wanting to leave it in the parking lot of the mental institution where he almost died twice, Stiles brought the jeep to the hospital. He was sure to help me get in safely and with as little pain as possible. It was very sweet, but the task was still painful, especially with my leg.

Driving up to my house, I could only stare at the front from my seat in Stiles' jeep. He pulled up on the driveway, and ran around the car to help me out. He spun my legs so they were facing him, and I watched his face as he registered the bandage on my leg, but opted to not ask me about it just yet. His arm wound itself around my hips, and I placed my hands on his shoulders, as he gently, yet awkwardly set me down on the ground. Together, we walked up to the front doors, and crossed the threshold under the crime scene tape still up on the doorway.

Having been preoccupied with other endeavors last night, I didn't fully register my surroundings and the mess Slice and I made. Freshly dried blood was sitting at the foot of the stairs in the foyer, and drag marks made their way down the hall into the kitchen. Several spindles on the staircase were splintered from where I must have hit them when I was shoved down the stairs. When I shut the door, I could see a handprint run down the door from the handle to the floor.

My stomach knotted when I heard Stiles suck in a breath sharply. He muttered a few profanities under his breath, but that was it. His fingers folded over mine, and he squeezed tightly, and that was enough for me to continue. Still limping, I followed the track marks into the kitchen, which was much worse for wear. Blood was splattered everywhere, and flashes of last night danced across my eyelids every time I blinked.

"June, we don't have to be here if you don't want to be," Stiles assured me quietly, and I straightened up.

"No," I said, "We need to do this. For Ginny." My eyes flickered to the wall opposite the kitchen leading back out into the hallway. I saw a sizable dent where Slice's head must've been bashed in thanks to my magic. That was all it took for me to turn back to Stiles.

"Is your dad done with this scene?"

He nodded, "I texted him a bit ago when I was getting my jeep for you, they finished up the crime scene this morning. They were waiting for you to come home to take the tape down."

I gave a curt nod before clapping my hands together, "Let's get to it then." I spread my hands out in front of me, and the kitchen came to life. Lights flicked on as the cabinets opened, and out came the kitchen cleaning supplies. They wasted no time in setting to work, the mop bucket filling up and scrubbing diligently at the blood that was trying to engrain itself in the expensive wood floors and cabinetry.

I turned to look at Stiles and smiled, wincing as my lip cracked a bit. His eyes were wide as he watched the magic erasers magically cleaning the counter tops, and the aromas of cleaning supplies filled our noses.

"I feel like you just made a part of my childhood come to life," He muttered, and I grinned.

"Harry Potter?" I guessed.

"Fantasia," He corrected, "The Sorcerer's Apprentice thing with all the cleaning supplies."

"Yeah, except these guys won't flood the kitchen or any of that stuff," I disagreed, "They'll be done in about five minutes or so."

Five minutes came and went, and the kitchen grew to look spotless. It made me feel slightly better about being there in my kitchen now that it wasn't covered in blood. I sent the cleaning supplies into the hallway to finish up cleaning the downstairs.

"Okay, so are you going to help me with this potion?" I asked, and Stiles' head whipped around to look at me.

"Can I even help with a potion? I mean I'm not - I'm not a witch."

I shrugged, "Neither is Ginny. You don't necessarily need magic to make potions."

"Are you sure you want my help with this, June?"

"Yeah, absolutely. It'll be just like cooking something."

"You've lived with me for a week, I think you know just how capable I am at cooking."

I laughed, "It's a good thing I'm doing this too, then."

Stiles smiled and we set to work. He followed my instructions down to the letter, and was an expert at helping make the potion. He ran into the library and pulled out the book on healing potions (Healing Potions: Everything from Strep Throat to Tuberculosis) and helped gather up the ingredients. Ginny and I had several cabinets filled with potion ingredients, which fascinated Stiles to no end, and when he wasn't needed, he occupied his time with reading some of the labels.

"Juniper berries, butterfly's wing, Blue Mountain flower, this is so odd. Why does all of this sound familiar?" He asked.

"You ever play Skyrim?" I asked, not looking up from the large pot that sat on the stove as I stirred in another ingredient. From the corner of my eye, I saw Stiles' head whip around to face me.

"Wait a second, the stuff to make healing potions in Skyrim is what you use to make healing potions in real life?"

"Well yeah," I answered, setting down the stirring spoon and facing him, "The guy who created Skyrim is a witch. He just used some of the names from one of these books to gather inspiration."

"Wow," Was all Stiles could say.

I grinned, nodding, "There is a large aspect of my life that feels like something from a fantasy world."

Stiles agreed and stared at the pot that held the potion, "Is that done?"

"Almost," I replied, turning back to the book, "According to the recipe, it just needs to simmer for about twenty minutes. In the meantime, I am dying to get out of this thing," I gestured to the ensemble that I was wearing. "Care to help me to my room?"

"Yeah, sure," He agreed, walking over to me and grabbing my hand. Together, we walked through the now spotless foyer, past the cleaning supplies that were leaning against a wall, and slowly up the stairs. I magically repaired the spindles along the banister on the stairs as I went along. It was an effort, and we had to go up one at at time, but Stiles was by my side the entire time.

We finally got up the stairs, and we hobbled along to my door. I opened it, leaning against the door as it swung open. Everything seemed the same to me, except for the giant blood stain sitting at the foot of my bed staring me in the face, bright against the white carpet. Gradually, I made my way into the room and started staring around. I made it to the edge of the stain and turned to stare at the en-suite bathroom. Flashes of Slice, or should I say Brehm, tainted my vision, and all I could see was his figure facing me.

"June." Blinking rapidly, I saw Stiles standing right where he did, and I took a deep breath. I limped over to my dresser, and began pulling out undergarments and socks. I went over to my closet and pulled down a blouse and took out some high waisted shorts. I threw them over to my bed and turned around to face Stiles. He seemed to understand me without even needing to hear me speak.

"I'm right outside if you need me," Was all he said before he took to the door and closing it behind him. I sighed and turned around, trying my best to ignore the crimson spot on the floor, and focused on getting dressed. I managed to get Stiles' flannel off, as well as both the socks. I decided on underwear first, and attempted to bend down. Attempt being the key word, for when I bent down, I almost cried out in pain after my ribs began to ache in protest. I huffed and sat down on my bed, bending my legs towards me, when my thigh began to shoot pain up and down my legs, as well as my ribs again.

Slowly standing up, I tried to reach for the ties at the base of my neck to get my hospital gown off. Tears poured out of my eyes out of pain and frustration. I felt utterly useless and pathetic, not being able to do something as mundane as dressing myself. Knowing when to accept defeat, I wiped my tears and took a large breath.

"Stiles?"

The door was opened immediately, and his eyes found mine just as fast, "June?"

"I can't - I need - can you help me?" I still had my underwear in my hands, but Stiles seemed to take no notice. He simply nodded and approached me. He faced me, eyes nothing but certain and reassuring as he grabbed the clothing from my hands. His eyes didn't leave mine as he bent down to my feet. I put my hands on his shoulders, and stepped into my underwear. Slowly, his hands rose up my legs, and settled on my waist, leaving the underwear on my hips. I felt heat rush to my cheeks when I saw Stiles blush just as furiously.

He went back to my bed and grabbed my shorts. He repeated the same process, sliding the shorts up my legs. His hands rested just under my rib cage, feather-light, but I still felt goosebumps rise on my arms when his calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin. Next, Stiles slowly turned me around, fingers ghosting the base of my neck as he untied the hospital gown. I shivered slightly as the cold air hit my bare torso, but froze when I heard Stiles' breath hitch.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's just - um - your back - it's - it's almost all purple," He murmured, and I sighed. Looking down, I saw Stiles was merely putting it lightly. A part of me thought that it didn't even look like skin, but rather something I was wearing. Most of my torso looked like a tie-dye shirt of blue, purple, and black, with only several spots remaining my usual pale. I quickly looked back up, tears gathering in my eyes.

"Let's just keep going," I muttered thickly, trying not to burst into sobs. Stiles paused behind me, before returning to the bed. He came back with my bra and walked around to face me. Once again, his eyes looked nowhere but at my own. I broke eye contact when I placed my arms through the straps, and let Stiles slide it up my arms. When I looked back up at him, I couldn't help but smile fondly up at him as his eyes were staring up at the ceiling. I cleared my throat and Stiles took that as a cue to go to my back and hook the bra. It took several tries, but his shaking fingers managed to get there.

Lastly, Stiles slipped my daisy blouse on, coming back around to face me as he buttoned up the shirt all the way to my collar. I worked on tucking it into my shorts as he went through my drawers to find me a pair of socks. He came back with them and my converse and helped me step into all of it. By the time he finished, a significant rose color was tinted on his cheeks. I smiled and stood up on my tiptoes, kissing him in thanks.

We broke apart, and I went back down to my height. "I'm sure the potion is about ready," I claimed, and Stiles nodded. Tangling his fingers in mine, he led me out of the room and down the stairs once more. When we got back to the kitchen, the potion was looking nearly complete. It had the exact light blue color that was described, so I took it off the heat. As I did so, I asked stiles to remove several vials from the dishwasher. Taking one that he handed me, I dipped it into the liquid, which was cold, despite having just been removed from the heat.

Stiles and I repeated the process, him handing me a vial, and me filling it with potion. We got about twenty vials before I had to pour the rest down the sink. We capped all but one, and I told Stiles to place them in the top shelf on the fridge.

"So what is the difference between this healing potion and the one you always make?" Stiles asked me, staring at the vial in my hand.

"Aside from the color, it's a stronger potion. It can heal more severe injuries at a quicker pace," I explained downing the liquid before placing the vial in the sink. "Ooh, it tastes better too. It's like spearmint." Immediately after placing the vial in the sink, I could feel the constant pain I was ignoring subside. I attempted to raise my hands above my head, and felt only a twinge of pain, but it was entirely manageable. I moved my hands to my leg and unwrapped the bandage from it, seeing what I assume was previously a very deep gash, turn into something that would still need stitches, but didn't sink down into my thigh.

Grabbing at the hair tie on my wrist, I pushed my hair into a messy bun before walking over to the fridge. Pulling out two healing potions that Stiles had just put away, I handed one to him and pocketed the other one.

"What's this for?"

"Last I heard, you have a concussion from Brunski." He shrugged, downing it in two gulps. Placing it in the sink, he turned to face me.

"What next?" He asked me.

"I need to get back to the hospital so I can give Ginny one of these potions."

"Is it going to heal her?"

"No," I flinched, "I don't know how to make that strong of a potion yet, but it should wake her up at least. It'll make sure she's okay. Plus I need to get this stitched up," I gestured to my leg, and the gash that resided in it. Stiles' eyes flickered down to it before nodding. Together, we left my house, and climbed into Stiles' jeep. He drove us down to the hospital, and I rolled down the windows due to the nice weather that morning.

"How did you hear about Scott, Liam, and Malia?" I asked Stiles, my head facing him, but leaning back on the headrest.

"Oh, Malia came in to see me that morning. Last night before all that happened, she talked with Scott. She wanted to talk to me, and I apologized. Last I heard, she wanted to talk to you about what happened."

I frowned, "I think your dad or Melissa must've taken my phone. I used it to call the sheriff last night when - well, I called him for help."

I saw Stiles purse his lips before he dug into his pocket for his phone, "Here, you can use mine to tell Malia you're okay." I nodded and shot Malia a brief text telling her the reason I didn't have my phone, and that I was okay.

"Did I also hear that you and Lydia found out that Meredith was the benefactor?" I asked, and Stiles nodded.

"It turns out Brunski helped fake her death. He also killed Lydia's grandmother, she had predicted her own death, as well as everyone on the list she left Lydia."

I nodded, turning my gaze over to the window. We sat in a comfortable silence the rest of the way down to Beacon Memorial. Walking back into the hospital, nothing changed, and nobody noticed our entry. We headed over to the elevators, and made our way back to my room. When I got to the third floor, Melissa was almost immediately on my case.

"And where the hell were you two?" She asked, looking me over, double checking that I wasn't more injured than how she left me.

"Stiles took me home, so I could change clothes. I'm fine, Melissa. I made a batch of healing potions, it took the edge off."

She glanced down at my bare leg, "Yeah, well, you're not out of the woods yet, June. That leg's going to need some stitches."

"How come there weren't any previously?"

"I had to wrap it up as soon as possible and get the nurses out of the room."

"What, why?"

"Your eyes kept fluttering open, and they would glow purple," My eyes widened, "I figured you didn't want people asking you questions." I shook my head and let Melissa guide me down to the room I had previously occupied.

"All the other staff has been looking for you," She grumbled, and I sighed before glancing back at Stiles.

"Just tell them you found Stiles and I in a janitor's closet," I shrugged, and almost smiled at how Stiles tripped over his own feet.

"Well as far as excuses go, that's not the worst I have given." She sat me down on the bed, and cleaned my arm at the injection site before administering anesthesia. She walked outside, and came back carrying a tray of materials used for stitches. In the time she was gone, Stiles sat down next to me. I grinned as his head whipped away from Melissa and I as she began stitching up my leg.

"Queasy, Stilinski?" I quipped.

"Yeah, not a very big fan of needles," He agreed, sounding almost pained. Melissa was finished in about ten minutes, snipping at the string and wiping the wound with disinfectant. She taped some gauze over it and removed her gloves.

"Alright, come back in about a week and a half, those should be ready to take out," She instructed and I nodded.

"Are you tending to Ginny?" I asked, and Melissa stared back at me with a pitiful gaze.

"Yes, would you like to go see her?" I nodded.

"Yeah, but that's not all," I removed the healing potion from my pocket, handing it to her, "This should help her. If you just administer about five milliliters, she should be okay." Melissa nodded, staring at my face.

"Is that why you look so much better?"

"Well I've been sort of avoiding mirrors today, but yes. I'm considerably better."

She nodded, "Okay, follow me." Melissa took my clipboard and marched out of the room and down to the elevators. We rode up to the fourth floor, and walked into the intensive care unit. I felt Stiles slip his hand into mine, but it didn't really register as I gained tunnel vision. Melissa directed us into a secluded room with Ginny lying on a bed.

She had several significant machines hooked up to her, as well as wires and bandages scattered over her head. She was so pale, and her dark features stood out even more. I heard Melissa and Stiles talking, but it was all muffled to me as I sat down on the bed next to her and grabbed Ginny's hand.

In that moment, I wished more than anything that she would just wake up. Tears blurred my vision, and my mind went blank. All I could think about was her, and what she must've went through. Guilt ate at my heart realizing how I wasn't there to protect her like I should've been. I froze when she shifted in her bed. After she settled back down, my head moved over to Melissa, who stood at Ginny's IV with an empty syringe.

"That's a good sign, June. She should wake up soon. Your potion might have saved her life," She smiled reassuringly at me, and left the room, muttering about something she forgot. My gaze moved back to Ginny's sleeping figure like a magnet, and I couldn't seem to look anywhere else.

"June, you've gotta tell me what happened," Stiles quietly begged, and I looked back up at him.

"I ran home to change clothes before I went to find you. I was going to apologize to you, after Malia told me what you said to her in Eichen. I was in my room when - when this man threw a knife into my leg. His name is Ethan Brehm, and he knew all about what I am. He had laced the knife with mistletoe..."

I explained what I could remember to Stiles, pausing to wipe the tears that had fallen and trying to control my hiccups. I did my best to keep going, despite the anger and despair that filled Stiles' eyes. There were several times where he had to stop me just so he could take deep breaths to control his emotions.

"... Your dad stopped me from killing Brehm. The ambulances were hot on his tail, and he took me to one before I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital."

Stiles sat down next to Ginny's bed, "Jesus, June."

Tears still ran down my face as I sighed, done with crying. "I'm sorry."

"What? Why are you sorry?"

"That's a lot to load onto someone," I turned back to Ginny when I heard Stiles get up from his spot. When I looked back, he was crouched in front of me.

"That's a lot for someone to go through. I mean - I - do you need anything?"

"Do you think I could stay with you until Ginny comes back?" I requested, and his nod was almost immediate.

"Absolutely," I gave him a small smile. "You know, I wasn't going to let you stay there anyway."

I scoffed, "Oh, really? You weren't going to let me?"

"Nope, I was going to throw you over my shoulder out of your house if we had to stay there a minute longer." I couldn't help but grin.

"I'd like to see you try, Stilinski," I tested before placing my lips onto his. My hands moved to his hair as I kissed him, but we broke apart when Melissa came back into the room holding of all things a cassette player.

"As you requested, Stiles, I found a cassette player," Stiles stood up at her voice, and eagerly took it from her hands. "We need to let Ginny rest," Melissa looked to me, "I've signed both yours and Stiles' release forms, so you can high tail it out of here when you're ready." Stiles took my hand with his free one and guided me to the elevators.

"What do you need a cassette player for?" I asked as he strode through the parking lot back to his jeep.

"Brunski made a tape for every one of victims, and last night he played Lorraine's."

I gasped, "Oh my god, poor Lydia."

"Yeah but that's not it, he didn't play the entire recording," I raised an eyebrow as he handed me the player after we got into his jeep.

"So?"

"So," Stiles dug something out of his pocket. My jaw dropped when he showed me a tape with the words "Lorraine Martin" written on it, "We're gonna figure out what was on the rest of this tape, and why it was so important."