Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine. *Sigh*
A/N: Did you all hear that Derek probably won't be in Season 5? Argh! I am so mad.
I ran for Derek, full well knowing that I was sentencing the man at my feet to a painful death. But between a complete stranger or Derek, I would choose Derek. Always.
There were four ghouls surrounding Derek, who was down on one knee with three ghouls hanging off him, and one currently being pounded by him. I skidded to a stop, catching the lowest one in the chin with a shoe just as its head dipped towards Derek's side. Its head snapped back, causing it to fall backwards, and I took a hop-skip forward, smashing my knee into the side of its head. The ghoul pitched sideways, landing face down on the pavement, and I stomped downwards, snapping its spine at the base of its neck. The ghoul went still, and I moved on.
There was a ghoul with its teeth embedded in Derek's shoulder from behind. Derek was fighting with the two in front, unable to get the leverage to throw it off. I drew up behind the ghoul, tense, in case it decided to detach and attack me. It didn't even register my presence behind it, so I took the opportunity to criss-cross my claws around the front of its neck and yank. Black blood flew, splattering over my face and Derek's back. The ghoul withdrew, clacking its jaw uselessly for a second as it bled out. I booted it to the ground and moved on.
Derek went flying through the air. The ghouls had flung him aside, in order to better converge on me, and he slammed into the car again, leaving a second large dent beside the first. Derek's claws had already been embedded in one of the ghouls, though, so as he became airborne, the smaller of the two ghouls staggered backwards, intestines peeking out of the shredded mess of his belly.
After hitting the car, Derek fell to the ground, going still as blood leaked out of his mouth. A cold feeling snapped in my stomach, and with a howl, I tackled the larger ghoul. After a massive flurry of claws, fists, and fangs, only one of us was still moving.
Staggering to my feet, I tackled the last remaining ghoul. It was weak, and its stomach was already eviscerated. It didn't take more than a few seconds for me to end it.
Then I rested for a second, panting and shaking as I knelt in a mess of bodies and blood. But it wasn't over yet. Struggling to my feet while slipping in goop, I circled back around the car and saw the ghoul crouching over the downed man. I groaned at the sudden tightness in my hip joint and limped my way over as fast as possible. The ghoul never even looked up as I came at it, too intent on its prey. I snapped its neck, as I'd once seen Derek do, and shoved the body aside before dropping to my knees beside the man.
He was breathing, but barely. His heart was beating slowly—too slowly—and erratically. There was a shuffling noise behind me, and I twisted, before realizing it was just Derek. He came forward, crouching beside me as we looked at the man. The man wheezed, his glazed eyes watching me for a long second before sliding closed. His heart stuttered and then stopped beating altogether.
I looked over at Derek, horrible guilt running rampant in my chest. "Do something!" I demanded, unable to bear the thought that another death was on me. "Do...do the thing!"
Derek gave me a steady look, and I didn't understand how he could be so calm when someone was dying right in front of him. "What thing?" he asked, voice clipped and tight.
I clenched and unclenched my hands helplessly. The thing. I didn't know what it was called. "The thing Peter did. When he made my heart go again."
Derek's brow wrinkled, and he didn't move. I thumped two fingers onto the man's chest, showing him the spot where I'd felt Peter's harsh blows. "The thing. Make his heart beat again."
"Peter performed CPR on you?" Derek murmured quietly, looking at the man but not actually moving.
Hysteria bubbled up inside my brain, smothering rational thought. "You're not doing anything!" I yelled at him frantically. "Why aren't you doing anything?"
"There's nothing to do, AJ," Derek said quietly. "He's dead. Human's don't heal like us."
Then, of all times, it started raining.
Water started pelting my face as I stared down at the man. Oh God. Dead. Another dead person. Another one that was my fault. The body started spinning with the ground as the breath whistled in and out of my mouth faster and faster.
"Stop," Derek commanded. Steady hands gripped my arms, pulling me up and forcing me to walk. Water plastered my hair to my face and ran into my eyes, but I couldn't stop looking at the body.
"My fault," I whispered dully, peering backwards over my shoulder at the body.
"No, it's not," Derek growled.
It was. He'd said it was. "You said," I muttered stubbornly, still locked onto the body. What if it was Lydia lying there next time? What if the ghoul just kept killing, and I didn't stop it? It would happen just like Derek had said it would, never mind that he hadn't meant it at the time.
"Hey." Derek came to a stop. I shuddered, my brain providing a horrible image of Lydia's broken form lying on the cold asphalt. "Hey," Derek snapped, shaking me roughly by the biceps. I dragged my eyes away from the body and up to his face. Stormy green eyes drilled down into mine. "It's not your fault. I only said that to get a reaction from you. To find your trigger. Do you understand?"
I stared at him mutely. He shook me again, not quite as roughly this time. "Do you understand?" he grated. I nodded, knowing that was what he wanted.
I shivered, the heat and adrenaline of the fight gone. Now I was wet and cold. Two of the things I really hated. Derek marched me towards the car. Or he tried, at least. We got maybe three steps before he staggered sideways, tried to compensate by weaving to the other side, and overcorrected, nearly falling. I grabbed his arm, steadying him in a vaguely upright position, and we moved forward.
I tried to guide him to the driver's side, but he shook his head. "You have to drive," he murmured, the words coming out slurred and choppy. A thrill of panic ran through me.
"I don't know how," I confessed, slightly scared. Surely he knew this already.
"Congratulations," he hissed, voice thick with pain, "you're about to learn."
It took some time loading Derek up. About halfway through, his legs decided they were through playing nice, and he was freaking heavy to heave into the car. Still, I got him in, and he immediately fished his phone from his pocket as I ran around to the driver's seat.
Climbing in, I flicked my hair out of my eyes, sending droplets of water flying. Derek was in the middle of telling someone—Argent, I think—that there were multiple bodies to clean up. I got out again, and pulled them all to the little alley the ghouls had come out of. That way, if anyone decided to drive by, they weren't totally visible. And the rain was starting to wash the pools of blood and ghoul blood away, little by little. So that was good, too.
I tried very hard not to look at or smell the body of the man. Tried. And failed. My fault. If I'd only been faster or smarter, then maybe he wouldn't be dead.
The horn blasted, shaking me out of my thoughts as I lay the man down in the alley. I took a step backwards, shaking my wet hair out of my face. Then I ran to the car, knowing any time I wasted meant the venom was spreading in Derek's body.
By the time I climbed into the car again, I was soaked and shivering. Derek pointed out the ignition, telling me to turn the key. I did, and the car rumbled to life. Then he had me put it in gear and push the gas pedal.
The car jerked forward, and I immediately slammed on the brakes. Derek groaned, trying to brace himself against the dash. "Slowly," he griped. "I said put your foot on the gas pedal slowly." I tried again, and this time the car rolled forward smoothly. Then I pushed the pedal down further, and we drove to the loft at a very unsafe speed. It was kind of fun, after a few seconds.
Thankfully, it didn't last more than a minute. We pulled up at the loft, which is where Derek had told me to come instead of the animal clinic. I shut off the car, opened the door, got yelled at for not putting it in park as it started to roll slightly, put it in park, and ran around to help Derek out.
There was someone inside the loft when I finally managed to lug Derek up the million stairs. I hesitated just outside the door, unsure of what to do.
"It's Braeden. I asked her to come," Derek gritted, putting less weight on me as he struggled to stand upright. In fact, as I yanked the loft door open, he pulled free of me altogether and took slow, haggard steps towards the couch. He didn't make it, of course.
There was woman, and she had a shotgun pointed at us. But, as Derek started to sag to one side and stumble, she dropped the gun and let it fall behind her on a strap as she hurried forward. Inserting herself easily under one shoulder, she got Derek as close to the couch as possible before his legs gave out.
They sank down onto the cushions in a jumble of limbs before she extricated herself and propped her hands on her hips. It was then that I got a good look at her. She was tall and slim, but anyone could see the toned muscles of her arms and legs. Like her hair, her skin was dark and smooth except for four jagged scars that stretched from her left jaw down her neck. I recognized them for what they were: claw marks. Something or someone had tried to tear out her throat. Clearly they had not succeeded.
"Did you get it?" Derek half-hissed, half-groaned. He was trying, and failing, to get his soggy shirt pulled back from his shoulder. Braeden let him struggle for a minute before stepping in close and grasping the bottom hem of his shirt, pulling the entire thing up over his head before tossing it aside. She gave his muscles an appreciative glance and winced when she saw the dark bruising covering his ribs and stretching behind to his back, all of which he totally missed with his eyes closed against the pain.
"I got it," she confirmed. "Want to tell me just what it is that you boys are after?" Her voice was low and husky, but in a nice kind of way.
Derek let out a grunt when she probed the area around the bite on his shoulder with an inquisitive finger, and he didn't answer. I could hear his heart pick up though, when she leaned in to survey the wound. When he didn't say anything more, she cast a questioning glance over at me.
"Ghouls," I said simply. Her forehead creased, like she wasn't familiar with them. "Very smelly, very bitey. Mildly poisonous," I said with a shrug, trying to fill her in on the highlights. Her eyebrows shot up, eyes flicking to the multiple bites on Derek's torso and arms.
He'd closed his eyes and leaned backwards, and she immediately crouched beside him, one hand going to his forehead.
His heart rate increased. A lot. Kind of like mine did when I saw Lydia walking down the hallway towards me. That was interesting.
"'M fine," Derek mumbled, brushing her hand away.
"Liar," she challenged, putting her hand right back. She left it there for another second then withdrew it, frowning. "How do we stop the spread of the poison? Is that why Deaton told me to modify those shells?"
Derek let out a grunt, his head coming off the back of the couch for a moment as he speared me in place. "You," he growled. "You were bitten too."
I quickly hid my arm behind my back, trying not to look guilty. But there was another bite on my side, and I could do nothing to hide that one. "I'm okay," I said quickly—really, really hoping to avoid another round of Narcissus powder. "I'm...I think I'm…" I was pretty sure there was a word that meant I wouldn't get sick again, but I didn't know what it was. "They don't hurt," I finished lamely, chewing on my lower lip as I tried to come up with the word.
"Immune," Derek provided quietly, dropping his head back down. "Deaton said you might be, after what happened." Immune. That was it. I was about to comment when Derek's head lolled to the side. Braeden patted his cheek, calling his name, but he didn't respond. She spun towards me.
"Narcissus powder," I told her quickly, moving towards the couch. "You have to put Narcissus powder in the bites to stop the venom from spreading and killing the tissue."
Braeden stood quickly, picking up a large duffel bag and dropping it on the coffee table with a clatter. She unzipped it, pulling out a cardboard box about the size of a softball. Pulling the lid off, she revealed the contents: red shotgun shells.
Pulling one out, she stuck it between her teeth and twisted. It pulled apart and she tapped the end against the table, making a familiar powder slide out in a small pile. Narcissus. In bullets. Oh. That was smart; that was very smart.
"'S not going to be enough," Derek said, his voice almost too quiet to hear. We both glanced over at him quickly, relieved to find he wasn't completely out of it. His eyes fluttered shut, though, which started a twist of cold in my stomach again. Was this what I had been like as the poison had spread through me? No wonder Derek had been so worried.
Braeden just reached back into her bag and pulled out a plastic case. Instead of bullets, there were syringes in the box. I hissed, taking a step backwards. I didn't like needles. Nevermind that they weren't for me. I'd gotten my fill of needles from the Eichen house.
Leaning over Derek, Braeden pulled the cap off one of the needles with her teeth. Her thumb was on the plunger as the needle hovered over Derek's thigh. After a second of hesitation, she moved the syringe further up and jammed it into Derek's chest at a weird angle. Then she injected the milky looking fluid—Narcissus mixed in a liquid, no doubt—into him. He groaned, starting a little as she jabbed him. "I'm not paying you to kill me," he said weakly.
Braeden snorted. "I'm saving your life. Besides, this is supposed to help. It won't kill you." Then her eyes flickered over to me. "Right?" she asked, a little less confident.
"Killed AJ," Derek grumped.
It wasn't true, of course. It had been the strain of a long battle with ghoul's blood in my system that had stopped my heart, I was sure of it. But the statement was good for shock value, at least, because it made Braeden's heart beat hard and eyebrows shoot to the roof.
So I shrugged, going along with it. "Only for a little bit," I said modestly. Braeden sent a concerned look bouncing between me and Derek, but he didn't see it. Then her face went flat, and she turned to the table, pinching up a little powder. "Ready?" she asked softly.
Derek gritted his teeth and nodded slightly. He was covered in bites—at least eight. Some were shallow, but some, like the one on his shoulder, were deep. Braeden dusted them all with Narcissus, leaving Derek writhing and breathless before she even finished. He didn't change though, never lost it once. Control. Complete and utter control. It was impressive.
After it was done, Braeden snapped on a pair of blue gloves and cleaned the blood off Derek. Then she got him a new shirt, easing it on for him as he slumped in an exhausted daze.
When he was done, she turned towards me. "You're next," she said softly, pulling on a new pair of gloves. I shook my head and backed up. When she took a step towards me, I bared my fangs, a slow rumble starting in my chest as a warning.
"Knock it off," Derek growled at me, not even opening his eyes. I fell silent, closing my mouth in a definitive scowl.
Braeden took slow, careful steps towards me. I closed my eyes and held myself completely still while she shifted my ripped t-shirt around and looked at the bites. As soon as she withdrew her hands, I took a step backwards, trying to suppress a shudder. It was the gloves, I think. Something about them reminded me too much of Eichen House. "Do I need to use Narcissus on yours, too?" Braeden asked.
"No," I said flatly, moving around her and making a beeline for the bathroom.
When I came out, toweling my hair dry, Derek was asleep on the couch, and Braeden was stretched out of the chair, shotgun across her lap. Dinner was out of the question, and I didn't feel like doing homework. I kind of just wanted to lie down, the aches and strains of the fight weighing me down.
But my room didn't have a bed anymore, and Derek was on the couch. There was no way I was going to sleep in his bed, so I ended up just sitting in front of the couch and leaning backwards against it. Besides, it wasn't like I was going to sleep. Not when the ghoul was still out there somewhere, and Derek was out of commission. Plus, I wasn't even sleepy, just a little tired. So I sat, elbows draped over my knees, and let the hours tick by.
Braeden, to her credit, didn't fall asleep either. She kept watch with me, silent but alert.
"You can go to sleep if you want. I'll stay up," she promised around ten. I shook my head, not bothering to tell her that I couldn't sleep right now. Anytime I closed my eyes, I kept seeing the man, grabbing the leg of my jeans and begging me not to leave him.
I shouldn't have even cared. He was a human, and no friend of mine. I shouldn't have cared that he died. I mean, everything dies at one point or another. Just a fact of life. So really, it wasn't that big of deal.
Yet, for some reason, I did care. I didn't even know the man, but I cared. The worst part, though? The part that really got me?
I didn't know why I cared, didn't know why I was angry about the man's death. I just was, and it was something new that I didn't like.
I was still thinking about it—albeit in a somewhat muddled state—when one o'clock rolled around. Derek shifted onto his side, clearing his throat before settling again. His breathing changed slightly, which meant he was awake. A second later, his hand reached out and ruffled my hair. "Go to sleep, AJ," he murmured softly.
I dropped my head back against the couch, suddenly feeling my brain stutter to a standstill. I would have protested, saying I wasn't tired, but all of a sudden I was. Of course, Derek had to ruin it by tacking on a hateful addendum. "You have school today, so get some sleep," he said.
I huffed, about to tell him what I thought about school, but no words came out. A few seconds later, my eyes slid shut, and I dropped off to sleep.