Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 51 - In their Nature

"Unresponsive."

The word rang in Stiles' ears in an endless echo, until the sounds were distorted and lost all trace of meaning. He was standing and trying to ignore how his legs ached after what had felt like hours of pacing around the waiting room, staring at Melissa with his mouth agape, like she had just said something he couldn't comprehend.

Leaving the Lacrosse field with Peter and helping him with his deeds had been incredibly difficult, and he had done it thinking of his friends and how it would save their lives, but now? Now Peter had gotten what he wanted, but Stiles certainly hadn't. In fact, everything had gone so wrong that the situation seemed to be straight out of a nightmare, and it left Stiles to pinch his forearm in the hopes of waking up.

When he blinked again nothing had changed, and the feeling that it was all a cruel prank remained. He had to go see his friends for himself, because as much as he trusted Melissa, she didn't make any sense in that moment. The second her back was turned and while she was talking with Lydia's anxious parents, Stiles sneaked out of the waiting room and into the brightly lit hospital corridor. He had been there enough times to know his way towards the patients wing, but never before had he walked towards it with so much purpose.

No one tried to stop him, as he looked like he knew exactly where he was going, like he belonged in these halls. The question of where exactly Lydia and Jamie had been taken to popped in his head along the way, but it didn't remain unanswered very long. A familiar glint of color behind a thick glass door right across the hall made him stop in his tracks. In any other instance, Stiles would have been the first to point out how ridiculous it was that after taking him across half the hospital, his legs had him suddenly forget how to walk. But then, he only had eyes for the strawberry-blond girl whose hair had attracted his gaze, and who was resting on a bed that seemed unfit for someone so delicate, her arms attached to plastic tubes.

The distance seemed to stretch between Stiles and Lydia's room, as the spastic boy's head was filled once again with Melissa's words. Scott's mother hadn't lied, because as far as Stiles could witness, Lydia wasn't moving at all. His eyes felt like they were burning as he finally walked closer, ignoring his own ghostly reflection in the glass and taking step after step until his nose came to rest against the cold surface. He didn't dare step inside, thinking that if he only witnessed the scene with his eyes, he could still walk away and pretend that none of it was real.

Of course, Stiles knew better. The scene before his eyes wasn't something he could have imagined, his mind wasn't twisted enough for that. And the sounds? Even through the glass, Stiles could hear faint noises of machines beeping and humming, monitoring Lydia's state. The harmony of noises he couldn't decipher was oddly soothing, yet Stiles couldn't help but think that despite all these complex devices, not a single soul could tell him what was wrong with his friends.

Footsteps behind him made him turn on his heels, the fear of being caught briefly replacing the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. Melissa was there, gently guiding Henry towards another room and speaking so softly to him, Stiles couldn't hear a word. But Stiles didn't need his ears to know what was going on, and he followed the adults until they stopped in front of a hospital room that looked just like Lydia's. As selfish as it made him feel, Stiles was glad he couldn't see Henry's face as the man pushed the glass door open and sat in a small chair next to his unconscious son, gripping the armrests with so much strength that his arms were trembling.

Stiles didn't know what to do. He stood there, watching the last two living members of the Tate family going through yet another ordeal, and he simply couldn't bring himself to move. Entering the room to comfort Henry was probably the right thing to do, but when Stiles tried to think of a few words to say, nothing came up. However, when Henry turned his head to the side, Stiles felt his heart drop in his chest. Henry had the exact same expression his father wore whenever they talked about his mother. The only difference was, Henry had no one left to turn to during these times.

Leaving this man alone would be a betrayal of everything Stiles wished to be, and he was sure that if he turned his back on Henry now, it would weight on him for the rest of his life. So, Stiles entered the room and sat on a small chair just like Henry, waiting. He didn't say anything, but his presence was enough. Henry was no longer alone, and for that, he felt an immense gratitude towards the spastic boy that so often visited his home. The pain wasn't lessened, but knowing it was shared made it slightly less difficult to bear.

The scene of Stiles and Henry sitting together in silence, watching over Jamie, was what Allison Argent came to witness when she barged into the patients wing, her breath short and her heart beating wildly. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were wide open; it was clear she had rushed there, fuelled by panic and adrenaline.

It wasn't Stiles and Henry that captured her attention, but Jamie. He looked smaller than usual, lying in a hospital bed. His eyes were closed, his chest was heaving up and down slowly, and in any other instance, Allison would have assumed he was sleeping. But Jamie's skin was drained of all color, where it wasn't covered by thick bandages, and as she listened to the beeping of the monitors he was surrounded with, Allison noticed how irregular the beating of his heart was. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Allison was covering her eyes with her palms. She had seen enough for one night, but even with her eyes closed, images still appeared. One was of Scott, turning from a sweet teen she wanted nothing more than to be with, to a horrific creature she wished never to see again. One was of her aunt, crossbow in hand and chasing after the monster Scott had become with murderous intent. Another image was of her father, gun tucked in the back of his jeans and telling her about werewolves and supernatural creatures as gently as he could, glancing around all the while in search of a threat. At first, she hadn't believed a word her father had said, and when Kate had joined the discussion, a pained look on her face due to Scott's escape, she had believed that Scott couldn't harm anyone, even when taking the shape of a hairy beast. This feeling came to pass. 

It passed after Kate and Chris heard screams and wails, and after they left her behind, alone in the dark. It passed when she learned who was screaming, and why. A mad dash to the hospital later, she had confirmation that her family hadn't lied. Kate had given her hints and tried to let her in on the family secret, and Allison didn't doubt for a second that her aunt had nothing but her safety in mind, and that she had done everything in her power to protect her like she had always done. Kate hadn't lied, and her father hadn't lied either. Scott and the pack he belonged to were monsters, and nothing they could say or do could repair the damage they already did. Allison only needed to remember Jamie and Lydia's fates to know that.

"Are you getting it now?" a woman's voice asked just when Allison felt a grip on her shoulder.

Taking her hands away from her face, Allison recognized Kate's voice. Her aunt was standing next to her, staring at Henry, Stiles and Jamie with her jaw clenched. Her grip on Allison's shoulder was strong, but not strong enough to hurt. Slowly, Kate turned her head to look at her niece.

"This is what they do, and they can't help it."

She knew she didn't need to say more for Allison to get the message, and the pained expression on her niece's face was enough to confirm she had been right. Allison had been torn between believing her family and believing her first love, but her mind was clearer now. She only needed someone else to express her thoughts to fully embrace them.

"All of them?" she asked timidly, peering at Kate.

"Yes, Allison," Kate replied with a sorry smile. "Even Scott."

Something on Allison's features changed at Kate's words, and it was as if she had suddenly aged. She stood tall, and her expression displayed an air of determination and a thirst for justice that went beyond her years. Maybe she was in over her head, but she couldn't let her first Beacon Hills friends get hurt and do nothing about it. She had to do something for them, even if it meant going against supernatural creatures. It was in her power, and most importantly, it was her family's duty.

Whoever was responsible needed to pay -- even if it was Scott.