Chapter 9: Magic Bullet pt. 2

Hey, I just wanted to let anyone that didn't read last chapter's A/N to know this chapter will have nothing in Rae's POV. That's just how it worked.

Happy reading.

~SiriusCatBennett

~Stiles' POV~

Driving with one hand on the wheel, a permanent scowl had etched itself into my face due to the person I was currently glancing at heatedly. Picking up my phone, I threw it back down in irritation from Scott's unhelpful reply.

"Come on," I spoke quietly to myself, looking back out the windshield as I gripped the wheel. Having a sudden thought, I whirled around on Derek who had painfully peeled his jacket off. "Hey! Try not to bleed out on my seats. Okay? We're almost there."

"Almost where?" Derek inquired, head bobbing up and down as he grew weaker and weaker.

"Your house." I don't know why he didn't realize that. Where else was I supposed to take a werewolf who'd been shot with a magic bullet? A grumpy werewolf at that.

"What?" Derek asked, taking a moment. "No, you can't take me there."

Are you shitting me right now?! "I can't take you to your own house?" I questioned incredulously, getting closer and closer to being 100% done with the mysterious werewolf in the passenger seat.

"Not when I can't protect myself." He responded simply, irking me because where did he think I was taking him? Some secret bunker for werewolves that only I knew about?

Getting fed up, I abruptly pulled over on the side of the road, not caring about whether or not the jolts hurt him.

Cutting the power to the Jeep, I threw myself sideways, focusing fully on Derek for the first time since he'd gotten in the car. "What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet?" I asked him, hand twitching to the side. "Hmm? Are you dying?!"

Derek did a little shake with his head, skin looking more gray and pasty by the minute. "Not yet." He huffed a few breathes. "I have a last resort."

Freaking out at how clinically little information he gave even when slowly dying, I spazzed out in my seat, too many emotions coursing through my veins. "What do you mean?! What last resort?!" Throwing my hands in the air, I regretted looking down as Derek pulled up the sleeve of his shirt.

There, was a disgusting, festering, bloody, open wound with black streaks running from it. Like poison.

It was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen in my entire life.

"Oh my god." Face screwed up, I hid my eyes from ever seeing ever again under my hand. "What is that?" Feeling utterly grossed out, I tried to shake myself out of it.

Being the idiot I am, I looked back over, vision doubling as he moved his arm around, being able to see the raised skin where the hole went down. "Ugh. Is that contagious?" Squirming into the corner of my seat, I ran a hand over my buzz-cut head. "Ya know what, you should probably just get out." Yeah. Yeah, I liked that idea. A lot.

"Start the car." Derek huffed. "Now."

Excuse me?! Mouth agape, I stared in shock at the injured man in front of me. "Yeah, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, ok? In-in fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out in the middle of the road and leave you for dead." Slightly out of breath, I stared directly into Derek's eyes, for once not being afraid of him.

"Start the car," Derek stated clearly, nodding his head a little, "or I'm gonna rip your throat out...with my teeth." Emphasizing with a glint of his teeth and a dark look in his eyes, I stared for a moment before begrudgingly deciding the best thing for me would be to start the damn car.

Driving off, I prayed to everything that was holy that Scott would hurry the hell up because all I wanted to do right now was watch movies with the girl I'd fallen head over heels for.

()()()()()()()()()()

~Derek's POV~

I felt like crap.

Crashing against a pile of dog food, I leaned back against the wall, shutting my eyes in sheer exhaustion. Huffing out a breath, I blinked slowly, hoping the rest would fix the slight double vision I'd been having since Stiles crappy Jeep rolled to a stop outside the vet's office.

"Does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Holding my arm as a jolt of pain went through it, my head fell back roughly so I could look in the direction of the voice.

Eyes closed and head lolling, I spat out the answer, my worst fears over the situation being answered. "It's a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?" Huffing in irritation and pain, I rolled my eyes subconsciously at the teenage boy.

"'Cause I'm gonna die without it." Looking up to meet his gaze, I was met with a blank, anxious expression staring back at me before I shut my eyes and rested my head back against the wall.

()()()()()()()()()()

Pulling my shirt off as Stiles helped me through the door, against both of our wishes, I continued ahead to the stainless steel surgical table. Leaning against it, I carefully set my arm on the top, looking down at it in exasperation and worry.

The black in my veins had traveled almost all the way to my shoulder, blood dripping down to my wrist. The hole in my arm from the bullet was black and dark red, looking worse than any infection a simple human could get. Letting out deep, ragged breaths, I flipped my arm around, needing to check the infection's progress from all angles.

"Ya know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good nights sleep couldn't take care of." Breathing becoming more rapid, vision growing increasingly more unsteady, I stared down at the table in front of me, trying to come to terms with the only possible outcomes of this.

"When the infection reaches my heart." I had to take a breath in order to continue. "It'll kill me." Steeling myself for excessive movement, I turned behind me, looking through cabinets and drawers. I wouldn't let this kill me.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary..is it?" Stiles grating voice spoke behind me. The longer I spent with the boy, the more I actually wanted to rip his throat out.

I had simply told him the facts. I would die if something wasn't done. "If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time." I rushed out, taking a breath. "Last resort."

"Which is?" Finally finding what I'd been looking for, I turned around to meet the spazz's eye.

"You're gonna cut off my arm."

Knowing I had surprised the kid, I reveled in the minutes of silence I could possibly get from it, setting down the bone saw. Resting for only a moment, I flipped back around to rip open more drawers until I found a blue band to cut off blood circulation. I tried not to think about my arm being cut off without anesthesia. Or the fact that I'd have only one arm after tonight. As if Kate hadn't taken enough from me.

Checking the clock and my veins, I didn't have much time left before we'd have to do this. Sliding the saw across the table, I began tying the band around my bicep as Stiles messed with the tool.

"What if you bleed to death?" He wondered as I wrapped the plastic tighter around my arm.

"It'll heal if it works." Tucking the band around itself, I paid no attention to anything else.

"Look. I don't know if I can do this." God damnit.

"Why not?" I growled out, pulling the tourniquet tight with my teeth.

"Well..because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood." Was this kid serious right now?

Dropping my arm down onto the table, I looked up at him in complete disbelief. "You faint at the sight of blood?" Of course, it would be just my luck that this is who I'm paired off with when I need someone to cut off one of my limbs.

"No. But I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Despite his raised tone and frantic facial expressions, all I could focus on was the fact that Stiles indeed did faint from the sight of blood. If his face hadn't given him away, his heartbeat sure did.

God, this kid was gonna have some serious problems in our world.

Huffing, I tried to think of a solution. 

I mean, I could threaten him. 

Yeah, I was gonna threaten him.

"Alright, fine. How 'bout this? Either you cut off my arm.." I glanced up menacingly to look him in the eyes, "or I'm gonna cut off your head."

"Okay, ya know, I'm so not buying your threats any-oh my god." Tired of listening to it, I had grabbed Stiles by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to my face. "Okay. Alright. Bought, sold. Totally. I'll do it. Okay. I'll do it!"

Beginning to feel incredibly sick, most likely from the overexerted energy it took to threaten the stupid teenager, I tried to steady my breathing. Having no such luck, I kept my grip on the boy as I leaned over the table and threw up. The outcome...a black pile of goo that was supposed to be my blood.

"Holy god, what the hell is that?" A voice whined from above me. Having let go of his shirt in favor of holding myself up from falling in my own puke, I tried to catch my breath.

"It's my body...trying to heal itself." I choked out, head leaning over the table. If I hadn't thought I felt like shit when we got here, I definitely felt like shit now.

"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it." Hearing how sick he sounded, I suddenly got angry. He wasn't having to deal with all of this! Dying slowly from an infection shot into him by the psychopath ex-girlfriend who killed his entire family.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I looked up at him quickly as reality set in. "Now. You gotta do it now."

"Look honestly, I don't think I can."

"Just do it!" I quickly yelled at him. We didn't have time for this.

"Oh my god! Okay. Okay." Hearing the blade roar to life, I focused on the disgusting pile of goo on the floor, quickly shutting my eyes. Feeling the cold metal against my bicep, I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my right fist, trying to prepare for the pain.

"Oh, god." Stiles groaned from above me. "Alright! Here we go!" He yelled in preparation as I turned my head towards the saw, teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut.

"Stiles!" What was that? Was I hallucinating now?

"Scott?!" Stiles' voice squeaked from above me, causing my eyes to pop open as I looked up, noticing the teen wolf standing in front of us.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Setting my head back down on the table, I sighed in relief, taking a moment to calm down from the hysteria.

"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares." Hearing Stiles set down the bone saw, I opened my eyes back up, lifting my head to look at Scott through half-lidded eyes.

"Did you get it?" Beginning to push myself up, I held my hand out as he dug through the pocket of his jeans, handing me a bullet. Looking at it, I was filled with leery ease. 

I wouldn't die. 

I wouldn't lose an arm. 

But this was gonna hurt like hell.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Feeling very dizzy, I tried to spit out what needed to be done before I passed out.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." Dropping the bullet, it wasn't long before my body followed. 

I had failed.

"Slow down! Slow down!" Looking behind me, I smiled as my younger sister Cora tried to keep up with Laura and me as we ran through the woods. Laughing, I waited for her and picked her up, swinging her around on my back as I continued to run.

"Be careful, Derek!" Laura yelled in front of me, looking back with fearful eyes.

"Okay, mom." I teased, running easily as I caught back up to her. Cora giggled on my back, tightening her little arms around my neck.

It wasn't long before we had made it back home from the creek, noticing mom was home with the groceries. Setting the giggly six-year-old down on the ground, she immediately ran to our mother, making a smile form on my face.

Looking up from the not-so-human wrapped around her legs, my mother stared right at me, shaking her head at the dirt covering my body.

"Derek, come help your sister with the groceries." She called, making a point to glance over at Laura carrying in bags of food. "And for goodness sake, put a shirt on."

Smiling roguishly, I jogged over to the car, watching as my mother picked up my younger sister so she could grab a bag of potatoes from the trunk.

"Hey, we were down by the creek. It's hot!" I exclaimed, sweating from the California heat. She really couldn't blame me. It was summer! It was like 1000 degrees out!

Taking multiple bags from the car, I walked around Laura who was coming back for more. Easily maneuvering the toys on the floor and our cat Beelzebub, who as always hissed at me, I dropped the bags on the kitchen floor.

I always found it funny that we had a cat. Being werewolves and all. He didn't like me very much. But he loved my mom, and mom loved him. He'd sit on her lap and purr while they watched sitcoms late at night together.

He'd also sit on Laura's laptop while she did homework.

It was hilarious.

Noticing Laura shut the front door, I carried on to the couch, plopping myself down since I knew all the groceries were inside.

"Derek! Get off the couch, you're filthy!" My mother exclaimed, laughing as she set Cora down on the floor. "Go take a shower." Pointing up the stairs with a smile, she went into the kitchen to put the food away.

Getting up to follow her orders with a wide grin covering my face, I grew confused as I felt a tapping on my face, jerking back. Looking around, no one had batted an eye, which confused me further.

With furrowed brows, I bit my lip before continuing on my original path, starting up the stairs. 

Letting it go, I passed by my father, James, as he went downstairs. Our father wasn't a werewolf. He just fell in love with one.

Sometimes I wished I could be human like him, and others I reveled in the heightened attributes I got from what I was born as. We were still waiting to see if Cora would turn. Usually, we would know by the time someone turned eight.

I hoped-

Being suddenly awoken to a small pain in my cheek, I shook myself out of the memory of my family. I couldn't think about them.

Remembering why I'd passed out in the first place, I turned to Scott, rushed words falling out of my mouth as he handed me the bullet again in understanding.

Gaining needed, but unwanted, assistance upright, I leaned against the table once again. Staring at the bullet for only a moment, I ripped the end off with my teeth, spilling the wolfsbane and gunpowder on the table.

Ripping out the lighter I kept in my pocket in case of emergencies, I quickly lit the pile, watching as it sparked like a firecracker before sputtering out. Breathing to prepare myself, I scooped up the blue smoking powder and slapped it onto the bullet wound, involuntarily letting out a groan.

Bracing myself, I shoved my pointer finger into the hole, pushing the burning wolfsbane into it. Crying out in pain, I fell to the floor, writhing as I tried not to think of the two teenagers watching me.

Slowly, through the mind-numbing burning in my veins and searing pain in my arm, I felt the poison drawing itself out, burning out until the black left my veins, the blood went back into my body, and the hole closed as if it had never existed.

"That...was...awesome! Yes!" Ignoring the ridiculous yell of excitement from the teenager, I pulled myself up into a sitting position. Wasn't he just freaking out?

"Are you okay?" Scott asked worriedly, with mild exasperation in his voice. Really?

"Oh, except for the agonizing pain." Pushing myself up off the floor, I slowly started feeling better. I was no longer dizzy. The nausea that had been following me all night had left, and my vision, for once, was clear.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Glaring at him, I tried to ignore the burning coursing through my body.

"Okay, we saved your life. Which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?" Oh. My god. Could these two get any stupider?

They knew nothing about this world, and there was a crazed, powerful alpha running around killing people who wanted Scott either dead or joining him. But, ya know, who cares right? They've got this. 

It's not like I wanted this either, but we needed to work together. And I was my mother's son, I would never leave a werewolf on his own. Especially one who'd been turned by the Alpha who killed my sister.

"A-and if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad and I'm gonna tell him everything-"

"You're gonna trust them?" Seriously? The werewolf hunters? He did get what that meant right? "What? You think they can help you?"

"Well, why not?" Not even going to touch that one. "They're a lot freaking nicer than you are." Shocked, I stared at him, seriously wondering if he was actually brain-damaged.

"Yeah, I can show you exactly how nice they are." Did Scott really look that confused? They hunt werewolves!

"What do you mean?" Sighing, I shook my head in irritation before walking toward him, grabbing him by the shoulder as I pulled him outside, guiding us to a nearby gas station. Having not been able to drive, I'd walked all the way from here to the school, leaving my car here. I was just glad it was this close to where we'd gone. There was no way I was riding with Stiles again any time soon.

"Get in." Unlocking the doors, I swung into my seat, slamming the door behind me as I fastened the seatbelt. Starting the car, I barely waited for Scott to close his door before I took off down the road. My destination: Beacons Crossing Home.

Speeding all the way there, it didn't take long before I pulled up front, parking next to a large tree. Ripping the keys out of the ignition, I jumped out of the Camaro, ignoring Scott's question as I started walking. Doing my best to not think of what I was doing, my pace increased as I passed through the sliding doors.

Mouth pulled into a straight line, expression set in stone, I followed the hallways until we arrived outside a door. A wooden door. Such a normal thing to house such an anomaly on the other side.

Opening the door quietly, I walked warily through it, keeping my gaze on the person in a wheelchair sitting in the middle of the room. Could you even call it sitting?

Walking in front of the man, I took a moment to process what he looked like now. Aged seven years, looking like he'd aged more from his catatonic state and scar covered face. I'd seen him once since I'd been back, but nothing would ever prepare me for looking into the eyes of my lifeless uncle Peter.

"Who is he?" At Scott's simple question, so many answers ran through my mind. My mother's brother, was the first. My favorite uncle. Cora's favorite uncle. The guy who would let Laura do his makeup when she was 13 and made us cookies as if he was some version of a grandmother, even in his twenties. He looked so much older than 35. 

How was it that this was my only living relative? I was completely alone.

Instead, I gave him the simplest reply. "My uncle. Peter Hale." Continuing to stare at him, I couldn't help but think of all the memories I'd shared with him. I wondered if he could remember them. If he was stuck in them.

"Is he...like you? A werewolf?" Scott wondered.

Turning towards him, I caught his eye before turning around. "He was. Now he's barely even human." Sighing grimly, I continued. "Seven years ago my sister and I were at school. Our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside." Looking down, I took a moment before making myself finish. "He was the only survivor."

"So..what makes you so sure that they set the fire?" For a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. But I couldn't. That would mean admitting my entire family; my mother, my baby sister, my human father's lives were gone because of me.

Instead, I gave him the same answer I gave Laura when we had this conversation. "'Cause they're the only ones that knew about us."

"Then..they had a reason." Pausing to gather myself, I just looked at him in bafflement.

"Like what?" Leaning down, I grabbed the handles of my uncle's wheelchair. "You tell me what justifies this." Turning the chair around, Peter's head fell, as did my heart, and the burn scars were now visible on his face.

"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." Looking at him, I felt the anger over my family's demise rise. I thought of my father, who was perfectly human. My baby sister who had been a late bloomer; only turning for the first time the year before. I thought of my cousins, who were born human instead of werewolf. I thought of the lovely woman that had stolen my uncle's heart. The werewolf that had loved him so much that she left her pack for my mother's. And lastly, I thought of my widowed grandfather who only ever left home for our family reunions. "This is what they do." I pointed harshly, needing him to understand. "And it's what Allison will do." Staring at him, I tried to read whether I was getting through to him or not.

"What are you doing?" A high pitched voice interrupted. "How did you get in here?" Turning, I saw the red-headed nurse that had been taking care of my uncle.

"We were just leaving." Grabbing Scott by the shoulder once again, I pulled him out of the room and out of the building. "Go home, Scott."

Jumping into my car, I ignored whatever he had to say as I gunned it to what was left of my home, trying to push away thoughts of the family I would never get back.

So, I did some research.

Derek is supposed to be around 25, with a birthday in November or December.

Cora was supposedly 11 when the fire occurred, based on the info we get in this episode, and the fact that she is 17 on the show. In this episode, Derek says the fire was six years ago.

I'm going to change that. I'm making it seven. So 2004. Derek's a senior, 18.

Even though I thought he was 17 when the fire happened. Anyways...

It just wouldn't make sense for Derek to be 19 and still be in his senior year. Some of the characters are in 6a, but they don't turn 19 until the end of the school year. I also can't justify a longer time gap because Cora would already be 10 years old at that point. On her own. Also, him being 19 would mean it had already been four years since Paige...and I just don't believe that.

In this book, he met Paige in December, 2001 when he was 15, a freshman. They were together for about a year before the bite incident that we don't talk about, in January, 2003. So Derek was then 16 and a sophomore. 

Laura was at college during the fire seeing as she's older than Derek. Assuming that Laura was only two or three years older than him, by her looks, I've made her a college Freshman, because she took a gap year. Talia was teaching her about her wolf because Laura had evolved over the summer.

That makes Cora eight years younger than Derek in this fic, and Laura two years older.

Honestly, TW's continuity is horrible so I'm trying to set an actual timeline and specify ages and stuff.

Maybe it's stupid to go into this much detail, but whatever, it's my book and I have the opportunity to fill in some of the blanks. So I'm going to.

For those of you who want to check out the site I found with most of the ages and birthdays of the characters, it'll be down below. I have a list of everyone's birthdays based on it that will come in handy in the future.

Ciao

https://abodynamicslife.tumblr.com/post/161978524085/teen-wolf-character-birthdays-ages-special

~SiriusCatBennett