AFTER A LONG DAY AT SCHOOL, WREN WANTED TO GO HOME AND TAKE A NAP. However, the universe seemed to have a different plan for her because as she climbed into the passenger seat of Stiles' Jeep, none other than Derek Hale appeared right in front of the car, weakly holding up an arm to get their attention. He seemed to be injured, pretty badly by the looks of it.

"Oh, my God! Stiles!" she exclaimed, and the boy's head shot up. His eyes widened when he saw the man on the ground in the middle of the freaking school parking lot where there were students everywhere, trying to get home.

"You've gotta be kidding me," the Stilinski boy groaned out, and both of them watched Scott run over to the Hale man as horns honked loudly behind them since they were blocking the road. They had had enough of Derek recently, and Wren really wished he would help Scott or just mind his own business. "This guy's everywhere!"

The blonde girl rolled her eyes as she opened the car door and headed over to the two that were kneeling in the parking lot. As she was walking, she called, "Hey, Scott, can you get him out of the road before we run him over?"

"I was shot," Derek groaned out, and she noticed that he was cradling his right arm in his left, indicating that he was in a great deal of pain. However, she really could not give a crap. She had a bad day and wanted to get home to her bed and her mom.

"I thought you were a werewolf. You're supposed to heal," she responded, and both of their eyes shot open, glaring at her before looking around to make sure that no one had heard her say that. She needed to be more discreet. She couldn't care less, though. "If you're dying, is there any chance that you could do it in the grass over there? You're blocking the road."

Derek just kept his stone cold glare on her and her lack of concern for his well-being. "I can't heal. It was a different kind of bullet." Scott seemed to be piecing together something that happened, and Wren could see the gears turning in his brain. She furrowed her eyebrows as she watched the look of realization appear on his face.

"Wait, wait — that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours..." he trailed off, causing both Wren and Derek to shoot him a confused look. He clarified, "The woman who shot you — she said you had forty-eight hours."

Suddenly, Derek groaned loudly, and his eyes flashed bright blue. He closed his eyes as he continued to grimace in agony, but when he opened them again, they were still shining, darting back and forth between his werewolf eyes and his human ones. Wren glanced around trying to shield his face from the stares of nosy students. She then began smacking the man's face and arm, trying to get him to stop. "What are you doing? Stop it!"

"I can't," the man snarled, and his hand snapped up and grabbed hers before she could hit him again. Scott sighed and slid her arm under Derek's arm before looking up at Wren for help.

"You are so completely insane if you think I am touching him. He's sweaty and bloody, and these are new shoes," Wren argued, but all it took was a pleading look from the McCall boy before she just groaned, "Okay, fine."

She carefully picked up the werewolf's injured arm and hauled it over her shoulder, wanting to kill herself when she saw everyone staring at her hunched over and dragging a dying man toward Stiles' car. The Stilinski boy quickly hopped out and opened the door to the back seat. Wren grunted softly as she and Scott hoisted him onto the seat, the McCall boy doing pretty much all of the work. Before they closed the door, Derek grabbed Scott by the arm and pulled him so that their faces were inches apart. "I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Scott quizzed incredulously.

Derek nodded his head toward Allison, who the boy had been standing with before everything went down. Wren turned to see that the girl was clearly trying to figure out what the hell was happening. "Cause she's an Argent. She's with them."

"Fine. I'll try," the younger werewolf finally agreed after Derek having to do a little convincing. He turned to his friend that was sitting in the driver's seat, and Wren already new what he was going to say. "Hey, get him out of here."

"I hate you so much for this." Stiles shot him a death glare before nodding at Wren to get in the car.

She groaned loudly before trudging over to the passenger's door because this was so not what she had in mind for her afternoon. She climbed in and closed the door behind her. She glanced back at the man dying before turning back to Stiles. "Any chance you can drop me off at home?"

"No way, José," he responded, and she rolled her eyes and slouched in her seat. She spun in her seat and made eye contact with Derek, who already looked like he wanted to kill her, and she flipped him off.

《❀》

DEREK HAD JUST ASKED STILES TO CUT OFF HIS ARM. Well, it was a last resort, but Wren really hoped that it happened because that would be such an experience. Stiles passed out when some kid threw up in a trash can near him at a fair the previous year, and the Carter girl could not wait to see what would happen if he had to cut off an arm. The Stilinski boy groaned, "Oh, my God. What if you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works," Derek informed him in between grunts of pain. They were standing around the table at the animal clinic, staring down at his arm that was looking nastier by the minute. He was bleeding back, and his veins were popping out.

"Ugh," Stiles grimaced, still disgusted by the look of the wound. It was not even that bad. If Wren was being honest, Isaac's broken arm looked a hell of a lot worse that Derek's little gunshot injury. He was a werewolf too, so he really needed to man up. "Look, I don't know if I can do this."

Wren frowned disappointedly because she had really been looking forward to seeing Derek's arm flopping around on the ground. When she expressed this, Stiles had informed her that a chopped-off arm did not, in fact, have a mind of its own. If this was the case, she did not understand why he was too freaked out to cut it off. "Why not?"

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!" the Stilinski boy countered, but she felt like it was not that huge of a deal. She did not like injuries that much either, but how bad could an arm stump be?

Derek just stared at him with an incredulous look on his face because he really had not thought that Stiles could get any more wimpy. The man questioned, "You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!" Stiles shouted back! The Carter girl supposed that he had a point. Most people would not think that a chopped off arm would be cool. She was not most people, though, because her brain was all kinds of messed up.

"Oh, for God's sake, I'll do it, you wimp," the blonde girl spoke up, having enough of his whining. Derek shot her a grateful and slightly surprised look. "Quick question, can I keep it once it's chopped off?" she asked, and both of the males in the room stared at her with extremely concerned expressions. She just shook her head and looked down at her feet. She was feeling really hyper and weird that day. Derek began rolling up his sleeve, and she grimaced when she saw the wound. "Ew! Why does your arm look like that?"

Derek was in so much pain that his sentences were coming out broken with grunts in between every few words. Wren knew that if Scott did not get there fast, the arm-chopping would have to start soon. As excited as she had been for it before, she really was not prepared to cut off someone's arm. He breathed out, "It's my body... trying to heal itself..."

"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it," Stiles pointed out, and if there was an award for saying the most obvious things all of the time, the Stilinski boy would win it by a landslide.

Pain seemed to shoot through Derek because he let out a sharp yelp, like a wounded puppy, and Wren looked up at him. She was terrified when she met his eyes, realizing that it was about time. He ordered, "Now. You gotta do it now."

He placed his arm flat on the table, struggling to keep still as he waited for her to pick up the saw that he had pulled out randomly. She winced and glanced at Stiles, who was covering his eyes and shaking his head frantically at the thought of what was about to happen. She slowly reached over and grabbed the tool, clicking it on. Her hands were shaking violently — probably not the best thing to happen when you were about to amputate an arm, but what can you do? She began to lower the saw toward his arm, and he prepared himself for the pain.

"Wren!" came a familiar voice from behind them, and she breathed out the biggest sigh of relief. She turned off the saw and put it down, turning to face a very confused Scott who was standing a couple of feet away. He glanced between her, Derek, and the saw in terror. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares!" Stiles exclaimed, removing his hands from his face so that he could lean on the table. He looked like he was going to pass out, and nothing even happened.

Wren stared at the boy in disbelief because he just had to stand there with his eyes closed until it was over. She scoffed, "You? I was the one that was about to chop off his freaking arm!"

"Did you get it?" Derek asked Scott impatiently, not wanting Wren and Stiles' argument to stop him from getting the help that he needed. He was about to die or at least lose his arm just because they were distracting Scott.

Stiles turned and watched as the McCall boy handed over a bullet that he appeared to have stolen from the Argent's house. How the hell he pulled that off, Wren was not sure she wanted to know. "What are you gonna do with it?"

"I'm gonna..." the man trailed off weakly, and all of their eyes widened when he began falling, his eyes fluttering closed.

Scott dove toward him just as he hit the ground, and the bullet that was in his hand was released and flung across the room and under one of the shelves near them. The werewolf immediately hit the ground and began searching for it as Wren and Stiles kneeled by the Hale man. Scott muttered, "No! No, no, no, no..."

"Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!" Stiles shouted, and he was very obviously panicking while Wren just sat there and poked the body repeatedly. "Scott, what the hell are we gonna do? He's not waking up... I think he's dying... I think he's dead!"

"He's not dead, you idiot," the Carter girl groaned with an eyeroll. "We have to do something! Punch him!" she ordered. She would do it herself, but she was honestly kind of terrified of the werewolf because he was very broody.

"Please don't kill me for this," Stiles murmured to Derek, shooting Wren an unsure and nervous look. He lifted his hand up and then brought it down, punching the Hale across the face. His eyes immediately snapped open as Stiles groaned in pain and celebrated his victory. "Ugh! Ow! God! That. Was. Awesome. Yes!"

"Are you okay?" Scott asked him, helping him to his feet. Wren breathed out a sigh of relief when he placed the bullet on the table.

Derek just glared at him because his arm was still wounded and infected or whatever the hell was going on. He needed the cure fast. He brought the bullet up to his mouth and bit off the cap while responding sarcastically, "Well, except for the agonizing pain."

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health..." Stiles informed them, and they watched intently as Derek dumped the powder from the bullet into his wound. He cried out in pain, but the injury almost immediately began healing itself.

"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?" Scott informed the older werewolf once he was sure that everything was all right. He looked him right in the eye, having to look up a little bit because of the man's height. "And, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything."