Chapter Ten

We were parked again, it was getting dark out, and Stiles was on the phone with Scott. "What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles asked.

"Take him somewhere. Anywhere." Scott tells us.

Stiles glances to Derek slumped in the passenger seat. He's breathing hard, eyes squeezed shut from pain. "By the way, he's starting to smell." Stiles informed him.

"Like what?" Scott asked.

"Like death." Stiles tells him.

"How's Paige doing?" Scott quickly questioned.

"She's surprisingly taking this on very well." Stiles informed him.

"Okay. Good. Take him to the animal clinic." Scott says. Scott's work? Really? That's where we're taking him? I rolled my eyes at the irony.

"What about your boss?" Stiles asked.

"He's gone by now. There's a spare key in a box behind the dumpster in the back." Scott quickly said.

"You're not going to believe where he's telling me to take you." Stiles looked over at Derek and I shake my head.

Derek grabs the phone out of his hand. "Look, if you don't find it, then I'm dead, all right?"

"I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing." Scott muttered.

"Then think about this... the Alpha called you out against your will. He's going to do it again. And next time you either kill with him or you get killed. You need me. Find the bullet." Derek then hangs up on him and my mouth dropped.

⇉

"Does northern blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles looked up from a text message as we're in the back room of the Animal Clinic.

Propped against the wall, Derek gradually opens his eyes. "It's a rare form of Wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?"

"Because without it, I'm dead." Derek states and we moved into the main area of the Animal Clinic.

Derek clicks on a light and slowly pulls his shirt off to reveal the gunshot wound is now far worse. Viens branch out from open sores while the rest of his arm has turned a sicking yellow. I squirm just looking at it.

Stiles, gagging, states. "Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of."

"I can get you some!" I offered. "My Mom's a Doctor..." Derek rolled his eyes.

"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." Derek says.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek starts pulling drawers open looking for something. "If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time... last resort." Derek stops at a drawer, finding what he needs. He pulls out an electric bone saw. My eyes widen.

"Which is...?" Stiles questioned.

"You're going to cut off my arm." Derek spoke in full seriousness, that I wanted to laugh from scareness.

"Are you insane?" I asked, my eyes widening. "Really, I think you should go to the hospital, I can—"

"No hosptial." Derek glared at me. Derek hands the bone saw to Stiles. Then he begins tying a tourniquet around the infected arm.

"What if you bleed to death?" I asked, starting to panic.

"It'll heal. If it works." Derek informed.

"Heal?" I asked. "Oh, my God. Is this like Twilight? This is exactly like Twilight, isn't it?"

"No." Derek grunts. "We werewolves can heal a lot faster than humans can, especially with this stuff."

"I don't know if I can do this." Stiles informed, looking a little nauseous.

"Why not?" Derek glared.

"Because of the cutting through flesh, the sawing of bone, and especially the blood." Stiles whined.

Derek looked at him in disbelief. "​​You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No. But I might at the sight of a chopped off arm." Stiles exclaimed.

"Yeah, me too..." I murmur, backing away slightly from the silver table.

"How about this: Either you cut off my arm, or I rip your throat out." Derek glowered. "With my teeth."

"I'm not buying your threats anymore." Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek grabs him by the collar roughly. "Okay, bought, sold, I'll do it, I'll do it."

Derek releases him. He starts gasping, choking and coughing. Hunching over, he opens his mouth as if to throw up. But instead of vomit, an inky black liquid is choked out, spilling across the floor. I jumped back, letting out a yelp. "Oh!"

"Holy God, what the hell is that?" Stiles' eyes widen.

Derek groans. "It's my body... trying... to heal itself."

"It's not doing a very good job." Stiles mumbled.

Kneeling on the floor, Derek looks up with glowing blue eyes. My eyes widen. "Now... You have to do this now."

"Look, honestly, I don't know if I can do—"

"Just do it!" Derek spoke impaintely, and Stiles began to panic, just as I did.

"Oh, my God, no!" I turned around, I don't think I could ever see this. "Please, let me take—"

"Paige!" Derek had snapped and I flinched.

"Okay! Okay!" I rushed out, my heart pounding fast.

"Oh, my God, all right... Here we go." Stiles tried to psych himself up. I turned slightly to watch, I was slightly curious. Placing the edge of the blade against Derek's skin, just above the furthest-reaching infected vein, Stiles takes a deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut. And just as he's about to pull the trigger...

"Stiles? What the hell are you doing?" Scott bursts through the door.

Stiles dropped the saw. "Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares."

"Did you get it?" Derek asked eagerly. Scott holds up the bullet. Derek grabs it, raises it up to look at it in the light.

I turned around fully, relieved that it was over. "What are you going to do with it?" Stiles asked.

"I'm gonna..." Derek spoke weakly. "I'm gonna..." He falls. Collapsing right to the floor. The bullet drops and goes rolling. Scott darts after it.

"No, no, no—" Scott panicked. The bullet drops through a metal grate and into a drain. Kneeling down, Scott digs his fingers into the grate.

"Oh, shit." I mumbled.

"Derek, come on, wake up!" Stiles panicked, too.

"Oh, God, what do we do?" I rushed out.

"I don't know!" Scott yelled out. "I can't reach it!"

"He's not waking up..." Stiles pointed out. "I think he's dying. I think he's dead."

"Just hold on! Come on..." Scott pleaded to himself, trying to reach for the bullet. "Oh! Oh! I got it! I got it!"

"Please don't kill me for this." Stiles murmured, and punches Derek right in the face. As Stiles staggers back, cradling his hand, Derek's eyes flutters open.

"Oh, God, Stiles, are you okay?" I rushed over, examming his fingers, holding his hands in mine. They bruised instantly. "Didn't your Dad teach you how to punch properly?"

"What?" Stiles looked at me.

"It's okay, it's okay, just minor bruising. Not broken." I informed him.

"Really?" Stiles asked, wincing. "Feels like it's broken."

"You're just being dramatic." I rolled my eyes.

"Give it to me!" Derek cuts us off. Scott tosses Derek the bullet as he struggles to his feet. Derek cracks the tip open and pulls out a lighter from his pocket. He holds the flame to the contents inside.

Sparks fly as bits of wolfsbane light aflame. He palms the smoldering ashes and grinds it into his gunshot wound, wincing as he does so. Derek drops back to his knees on the floor. He opens his mouth, revealing his sharpened fangs.

Stiles and Scott step back, Scott pulling me behind him and Stiles. Derek tilts his head back and screams. It's an ear-piercing, earth shattering howl of agony. And then he tumbles back, sweat-soaked skin hitting the cold cement floor. His arm falls to his side. In seconds, the open sores close, wounds healing, returning to normal.

My heart was pounding and I was clutching onto Stiles' hand for moral support. I didn't expect that. Shock and fear overrides me.

"That. Was. Awesome." Stiles smiled widely. "Yes!"

Derek's eyes blink open. Slowly, he pushes himself back up from the floor. Catching his breath, he stands upright. "Are you okay?" Scott asked him.

"Except for the agonizing pain." Derek sarcastically said.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health." Stiles said, while I unlatched our clutched hands together.

Derek grabs his shirt, pulling it back on. Although, I didn't mind it off. "We saved your life. That means you're going to leave us alone. You got that? And if you don't I go back to Allison's dad and tell him everything—" Scott tried to threaten but Derek cuts him off.

"You're going to trust them? You think they can help you?" Derek glared.

"Well, why not?" Scott asked. "They're a lot freakin' nicer than you are."

"I can show you exactly how nice they are." Derek tells him.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked. Derek began to walk out, and Scott began to follow before pausing and turned to us. "Stiles, take Paige home. I'm sorry I dragged you into this, Paige."

I don't say anything as he rushes off, leaving Stiles and I alone. "Yeah, I'm following up on Scott's apology, I'm really sorry. You can just like, pretend to not know us to be safe, or—"

"No, I—I'm cool." I stuttered a little. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's nice to finally know what the hell is wrong with this town."

Stiles nodded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Stiles. I am sure." I tucked some hair behind my ear. "I'm so sure, I'm going to teach you how to punch."

"Your Dad taught you how to punch?" Stiles asked.

"Uh, yeah. When me and Lucy were younger, he taught us some basic combat fighting skills, just in case anything happened to us. He's super paranoid." I explained. "Anyways, you go like this..." I showed him how, he kind of had it right, but was holding his fist wrong. I got closer to him and showed him properly, holding his fist carefully. "Like that. There you go."

"Oh." Stiles stares at his fist, before looking at me, our faces incredibly close. My arms were pretty much wrapped around him, both of my hands touching his.

I pulled away from his warm touch, taking a few steps back. "Uh, yeah, that's how you do it. You're probably gonna get a bruise in a day or two."

"Oh, okay," Stiles murmured. "I mean, at least that's better than being dead, right?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. I should probably go home now, my parents will be worried." A lie slipped through too easily out of my mouth, but I had the urge to leave this place. I didn't want to be here anymore than I am.

"Don't you want an explanation of all this?" Stiles questioned, and I tilt my head to look at him.

"Okay." I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. "Give me what you got."

"It all happened a few weeks ago." Stiles begun to explain. "I heard my father over the radio, about there being a dead body in the middle of the woods, curious—"

"Wait, I was there, too." I jumped in and his eyes widen. "I remember seeing your car, actually. Very discrete, by the way."

"Jesus," Stiles spoke. "Did you see Scott?" I shake my head. "Anyways, I got caught, and Scott was left alone. He got bitten by an Alpha—"

"Oh!" My eyes widen at another memory. "I think I ran into the Alpha. I was shitting myself, I thought I was going to die."

"Paige." Stiles gives me a look. "Don't go out into the middle—"

"I was fine, nothing happened, something scared it off?" I shrugged my shoulders. "But I remember it's red glowing eyes. I didn't sleep for the rest of that night."

"Anyway, Scott got bitten, and basically, long story short, we thought Derek was the killer. So, we got him sent to jail because we found a body outside buried by his house, but it turns out it was his sister." Stiles explained. "And now we're here."

"Wow." I murmur. "This would be much harder to believe if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Yeah." Stiles breaths out. "I'm glad your okay. I guess Scott took the fall for you, huh?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah. Okay, now that I know this, can I go home now?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll drop you off."