Clair's outfit for the whole day
First period English, or, more formally known as the bain of Clair's existence. Particularly when the essay that she had done at the very last minute was being handed back.
Clair Moore normally took pride in her writing abilities. yet, with everything that had been happening, sitting down to write felt sluggish and forced. She was dreading that little red circle on the top of her page more and more as the teacher grew closer.
Stiles reached over to tap Scott aggressively on the shoulder, giving Clair something other than her impending doom to think about.
"If Derek isn't the Alpha, if he isn't the one who bit you, then who did?" there was a beat of silence as Scott tried to come up with an answer.
"I... don't know," He shrugged, absentmindedly twisly a pencil between his fingers. That answer didn't satisfy Stiles, who just leaned forward again, unable to sit still in his seat.
"Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Scott sighed again, lazily rolling his head to acknowledge Stiles.
"I don't know," he said in a dejected tone. He was tired of all the new werewolf crap that he was having to deal with. Stiles leaned back aggressively in his seat, pursing his lips into a tight, dissatisfied line. He angrily tapped his eraser against the desk. Then his eyes lit up as if he had an epiphany.
"Does Allison's dad know about the Alpha?"
"I don't know!" Scott spun around to shout at Stiles, causing both Clair and the sporadic boy to jolt in their seats; the entire class turned to look at the outburst. Stiles turned and smiled at Clair awkwardly, shrugging as if he had no clue why Scott would snap at him. The girl rolled her eyes and huffed.
Then, teacher reached the trio, handed out their papers. Clair took hers gingerly and scowled at the grade. She had gotten a 'C', it could have been a lot worse. At least she was still passing.
"Dude you need to study more," Stiles peaked over Scott's shoulder to look at his grade. The werewolf sighed in annoyance and ripped his paper out of Stiles's line of sight, accidentally displaying it directly to Clair . 'D-' it read. But she had no room to ridicule him, she was in a similar boat. "That was a joke," Stiles muttered, "Scott, it's one test. You're gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?"
Clair leaned forward, reaffirming Stiles's request. "Yeah, Stiles and I are studying after school, you can join us if you want," Scott sighed and shook his head.
"No. Im studying with Allison after school today," Stiles's brows rose in surprise and he smirked down at his best friend. Clair rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was coming.
"That's my boy," Stiles praised. Scott just deadpanned, turning his head back to give Stiles a bored look.
"We're just studying,"
"Uh, no you're not." Stiles insisted. Clair shook her head, and grumbled in distaste.
"No, im not?" Scott asked, finally fully turning to face Stiles. Clair was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the way that their voices carried throughout the room. Everybody in their English class could hear the boys talking about sex, and she wanted to die of embarrassment.
"We study together all the time," Clair grumbled to the boy, who looked at her in bewilderment.
"Yeah, but You and I are unf-Uh not dating! We aren't dating," he scrambled to say, his cheeks slightly rosy as he stuttered over his words. Clair nodded her head towards him.
"Touche," she muttered. The boy turned his attention hastily back to Scott.
"And No, Scott, not if Im forced to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I- I swear to god I will have you de-balled!"
"Seriously?" Clair groaned, pulling her hood up over her face as a few other students turned around to look at the trio with grimaces. "I hate him...I hate him so much," she mumbled to herself.
"Okay. Just..." Scott said, turning to give Stiles those pathetic puppy eyes of his, "Stop with the questions, man,"
"Done," Stiles waved it off, leaning back in his seat with a mock frown, "No more question, No more talk about the Alpha or Derek. Especially Derek...who still scares me," Clair hummed in agreement, fiddling with the sleeves of her hoodie.
🔥
Stiles and Clair burst out of the school door, the last bell of the day still ringing in their ears. Stiles had a happy pep in his step, he was excited spent the next few hours studying with Clair. But Clair was sick of it already and they hadn't even got there. She just got out of school, why would she want to do work for the next three hours?
"So...do we have to study or can we just continue watching A New Hope?" Clair asked, hoping she could weasel her way out of it by offering the boy something more fun. He wasn't budging.
"Oh, I would love to do that, but someone needs to study, or she's going to fail English and Chemistry," he snarked, there was no real malice behind his tone, but she still felt bad for taking up his time.
"I mean, we could multitask," Clair shrugged, popping the door to his blue jeep open and throwing her bags in the back. The brunette shook his head, sighing as he turned his key. The engine turned over, causing the car to rumble.
"You'll lose all interest in school as soon as you see Princess Leia," Stiles huffed, and Clair only giggled. He was right, but it's not like he wouldn't do the same. Anybody would, Princess Leia was gorgeous. Stiles backed out of the parking space, turning towards the exit.
"Hypocrite," Clair whispered and Stiles just shrugged, fully accepting it. He briefly took his eyes off the road to look at the girl beside him, his brows raised as an awkward smile stretched across his face.
When he turned back to face the road, he had to abruptly stop, right before he hit someone who had walked in front of them "Holy shit!" Clair yelped, hastily grabbing the handle above the door.
"Oh! My god-" Stiles huffed, his face scrunching into a scowl as he recognized the person that stood before him, It was Derek Hale "You gotta be kidding me. This guy's everywhere!" Stiles exclaimed. Clair and him traded alarmed looks as Derek dropped to the ground right in front of the jeep. Scott seeing the commotion, ran over as fast as he could.
"What are you doing here?" Scott hissed, eyes frantically looking around at all the other cars.
"I was shot," Derek huffed, skin pale and pasty; he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He looked violently ill.
"He looks really sick," Clair muttered, and the werewolf turned up to her with an agitated huff. Maybe she was starting the obvious, but she figured he didnt need to give her attitude.
"Why aren't you healing?"
"I can't, It was a different kind of bullet," Derek groaned, attempting to stand up but doubling over once again in pain.
"What like a silver bullet?" Stiles gasped in wonder, more curious about the bullet than worried for Derek. The werewolf just glowered at him.
"No, you idiot-" Derek started to say but cut himself off with a pained groan. Clair whined in concern as people from the cars behind them started to climb from the vehicles to see what was up. Specifically Jackson and Allison.
"Wait a second. That's what she meant when she said 48 hours..." Scott muttered more to himself. But his words caused Clair, Stiles, and Derek to whip toward him in bewilderment.
"What? Who said 48 hours?" Derek panted, panic evident in his wavery voice.
Scott just shrugged. "The woman who shot you,"
Clair's jaw dropped, and she looked at Stiles with wide eyes. The boy had definitely left out a few key details when they last talked. He hadn't even bothered to tell Clair and Stiles about what he heard. What was up with that? Derek hissed in pain, clutching his arm tightly as his eyes flickered a vibrant blue.
"What are you doing? Stop that!" Scott panicked, looking back at the pile-up of cars.
"I don't think he can, Scott," Clair whispered, looking between the two werewolves who couldn't seem to see eye to eye. If they didnt do something soon, someone was going to see.
"You should listen to your friends more, she's right, I can't,"
Stiles shifted forward, putting himself slightly in front of the raven haired girl. "Hey, Uhn uh buddy, I don't think so. Leave Loony out of your weird werewolf... sickness, bullet thing," Clair pushed the spaz to the side with a grunt and looked at Scott, urging him to do something.
"Help me get him in the car," The boy sighed and bit his lip, grabbing Derek and hauling him to his feet. Clair opened the door and crawled into the back so Derek could sit up front.
Scott practically threw the bulky werewolf into the car, all while Stiles protested. He was very opposed to this entire idea. Scott slammed the door as the cars behind them blared their horns. Derek grabbed Scott's arm before he could turn to leave.
"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used," Derek demanded, Scott turned to him with a crazed expression. He had been so excited to hang out with Allison, and now that was being ruined.
"How am I supposed to do that!" he hissed, bouncing on the heels of his feet anxiously.
"Cause she's an Argent! She's with them!" Derek insisted, his voice ticking up as if he was pleading instead of demeaning. It was subtle, but Clair could tell he was scared.
"Why should I help you?"
"Because you need me," Derek grumbled, maintaining a scary amount of eye contact with Scott. Stiles jumped into the driver's side, his lips pressed into a scowl at the situation he had found himself in.
"Fine, fine, I'll try,' Scott muttered, waving his hands for Stiles to get going, "get him out of here," Stiles shook his head, but put the jeep into gear with a scowl.
"I hate you so much for this,"
🔥
They had been driving around the outskirts of Beacon Hills, headed towards the direction of Derek's house. Clair recognizes the route, it was the same direction as her house.
Stiles kept peeking down at his phone, which was making Clair nervous. So, she cleared her throat and laid a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, he hummed in acknowledgment silently asking her what was up.
"Gimme your phone, I'll text while you drive. I don't really want to die today," She huffed, slowly pulling the phone out of his hand and laying it in her lap.
"Yeah, yeah, just make sure you keep checking it, and call Scott like every 20 minutes," Stiles instructed nervously. His eyes shifted over to Derek, who was peeling off his leather jacket in favor of some air against his sweaty skin, "Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there." Stiles grumbled distastefully.
"Almost where?" Derek leered groggily.
"Your house." Stile sighed in a 'duh' tone, making Derkes eyes go wide in panic. His head whipped to Stiles and Clair.
"What?" he huffed in alarm, "No, you can't take me there." Stiles scoffed and shrugged his shoulder in an aggravated motion.
"I can't take you to your own house?"
"Not when I can't protect myself," Derek deadpanned, causing Stiles to pull off the side of the road.
"All right." Annoyance radiated from Stiles skin. He put the car in park and whipped to look at Derek. "What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?" the boy shouted, prying Derek for answers. Clair just sat in the back, watching the exchange in uncomfortable silence.
"Not yet." Derek huffed, nodding to himself "I have a last resort."
"What do you mean? What last resort?" Stiles exclaimed with a humorless bark of laughter. He always laughed when he got agitated, it made it hard to know when he was being serious.
Derek pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a deep bullet wound, his veins were enlarged and darkening around the point of contact. Clair grimaced but leaned forward to get a better look. She had dressed plenty of her own wounds before... She had always been a clumsy kid.
"Oh, my God. What is that?" Stiles gagged, adverting his eyes from the wound. "Oh, is that contagious? You know what, you should probably just get out." Stiles groaned, gesturing towards the door of his vehicle.
Clair grunted and finally spoke up. "Stiles, he could die we, aren't kicking him out," She stated, which didn't make the spaz very happy. He spun around to face her with an appalled look.
"Loony, he can die, okay? Please just let me, let him die," he waved his hand dramatically, speaking lowly like he was trying to whisper; But Derek could hear every word anyway. Even if he wasn't a werewolf, Stiles was unintentionally loud.
"Listen to your girlfriend. Start the car. Now." Derek growled, causing Clair's face to flush with heat.
"I'm not his-" She jumped to respond, but Stiles cut her off.
"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think, if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little Werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead!"
"Start the car... or I'm gonna rip your throat out... with my teeth."
Clair tensed up and leaned forward, preparing to start the car herself in case Stiles said something stupid enough to prompt Derek to actually kill him. There were a few silent seconds where the boys just looked at each other. Each with their scowles. Then Stiles rolled his neck aggressively and started up with the engine, muttering expletives under his breath.
Clair sighed in relief and shook her head, looking down at Stiles' phone to send a few more urgent messages to Scott.
🔥
"What are we supposed to do with him?" Clair spoke hastily into the phone, tapping her foot frantically. Stiles had parked off to the side of the road again after hours of aimlessly driving around. It was clear that Derek was only getting worse, and there was no sign of Scott.
"Take him somewhere. Anywhere." Scott muttered into the phone, his voice melded with the static from lack of signal. Clair sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Stiles shot his hand into the backseat, silently telling her to give him the phone. Clair did, with a grumble of protest.
"And, by the way, he's starting to smell," Stiles complained with a sigh. Derek scowled at him. Clair sighed, It was true, the werewolf had started to smell...reek was a more appropriate word. It was like the stench of a dead animal, a lingering scent of carnage- like he was rotting from the inside out.
"Like-like what?" Scott questioned in a faint murmur. The volume from Stiles' phone was loud enough to hear, even from her place in the back.
"Like death."
"A dead animal," Stiles and Clair said at the same time, though the girl had the decency to at least speak quietly. Still, Derek turned to her with an unimpressed look. "Sorry..." she muttered, anxiously avoiding his eyes.
"Don't apologize to him, it's true." Stiles grumbled, turning to Derek, "You smell like shit, dude," Clair almost laughed at what Stiles said, but held it in for the sake of the situation. This wasn't a laughing matter.
"Okay. Take him to the animal clinic." Scott whispered, finally coming up with a semblance of an idea. Clair and Stiles shared an unsure look in the mirror.
"What about your boss?" Stiles asked, and Scott just sighed in frustration.
"He's gone by now," Scott spoke hastily
"What about Mynx?" The ravenette interjected, leaning over Stiles' shoulder to be closer to the phone. It was a valid question, and they both knew it.
"I think they'll be gone too..." the nervous boy said hesitantly, but he didnt sound too sure. Clair sighed and dropped her head in frustration.
"Scott, if Mynx isn't gone and we bring Derek in like this-"
"Just!-" the boy took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to reel himself away from shouting. "There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster, use it" Clair sighed and shifted back into her seat, pouting in defeat. What were they going to do if Mynx was there? How would they explain any of this? Besides, Mynx would have no reason to believe the teens, it wasn't like they were friends.
"You're not gonna believe where he's telling us to take you." Stiles sighed, handing the phone off to Derek.
"Did you find it?" Derek slurred, gripping the phone so tightly he looked like he might break it. He looked seconds away from passing out. Unable to keep his eyes open for very long.
"How am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million! This house is like the frickin' Walmart of guns!" Scott exclaimed in frustration.
Clair scoffed out a small laugh at the 'Walmart of guns' comment, but in all honesty, it unsettled her. Scott was in a place where they could shoot and kill him at any moment if they found out what he was. He was in danger, and she hated that.
"Look, if you don't find it, then I'm dead, all right?" Derek huffed.
"I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing..." Scott muttered and Clair lifted her hands in defeat. Why were her best friends so keen on murdering this guy? Was there something that she was missing?
"Then think about this-- the Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, either you kill with him, or you get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet." Derek grumbled, abruptly hanging up the phone.
Clair nodded her head with a mock frown. She had to agree that he was mildly irritating. If he talked to her like that she would probably want to smack him too. Smack, being the primitive word. Not leave for a slow horrible death.
"I'm surrounded by drama queens," Clair muttered, forgetting momentarily that there were other people who could hear her. Derek glared at her in the mirror and Stiles just huffed a small laugh.
"Look who's talking," Stiles jested, sending the girl a mocking look over his shoulder and handing her his phone. Clair puffed out her cheeks and glared back at him. He wasn't wrong, in fact -sometimes it was fun to be a little dramatic. Especially in situations she didn't want to properly cope with.
"Fair enough..."
🔥
Stiles pulled open the back entrance to the veterinary clinic, and thankfully, everything seemed to be closed up. Meaning there was a very little chance that Mynx Deaton was inside. Stiles' phone pinged in Clair's pocket, she had forgotten to give it back to him when they parked. Clair looked at the screen in confusion as a text from Scott came through.
Scott McHowl: I found the bullet, ask Derek about Northern Blue Monkshood.
She chuckled internally at Scott's contact name, before asking Derek about the bullet. "Hey, does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" his face dropped and panic flooded his features.
"It's a rare form of wolfsbane." he ground out, straining his neck to the side in frustration "He has to bring me the bullet."
"Why?" Stiles questioned, shrugging his shoulders in confusion. Derek looked up at him with weak eyes, his voice gruff and strained
"'Cause I'm gonna die without it." He grunted. Clair quickly texted Scott, adrenaline flooding her system.
Stiles: Get here now, we need the bullet -Clair
She handed Stiles his phone and quickly stepped forward to put one of Derek's sweaty arms over her shoulder. He was having trouble standing on his own and Stiles wasn't doing much to support him.
"Uh no, nuh uh, away from the sweaty, aggressive werewolf, Loony," Stiles scolded with a nervous laugh. Clair rolled her eyes and tightened her hold on the werewolf.
"Stiles, he's like 200 pounds, okay, would you let me help so you don't have back problems by the time you're twenty," she snarked, leaning forward to open the door. Both Derek and Stiles looked at her in mild distress.
"I'm here...dying and you have nothing better to do than call me fat?" Derek hissed, but didn't draw his arm from around her shoulder. Clair rolled her eyes and helped Stiles lug him through the door.
"I was calling you hefty, there is a difference," she grumbled, shaking her head lightly at the werewolf. What was she saying about drama queens? Oh right! She's surrounded by them!
They burst into the clinic section of the veterinarian's office, and Derek ripped away to start peeling off his shirt. Practically tossing Stiles and Clair to the side like ragdolls. Which was rude, but Clair considered it payback for her earlier comment on his weight...and Stiles' general attitude.
Stiles flipped on the light, finally letting them see in full view the disgusting mess that Derek's arm had become. His veins were engorged and a dark purple, while his wound looked infected.
"Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of..." Stiles gagged out.
"When the infection reaches my heart... it'll kill me." Derek breathed heavily, toppling slightly on his unsteady feet as he went to search through the drawers in the corner.
"Positivity" just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles exasperated, turning to Clair with a 'can you believe this guy?' look on his face.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time-- last resort." Derek grumbled, and Clair stiffened as she watched him pull an object out of one of the cupboards. Stiles couldn't see because of where he was standing. So he was clueless. Clair's face pinched in disgust at the thought of what he was planning to do...with a bone saw.
"Which is...?" Stiles urged, looking briefly at his friend and straightening up as soon as he saw her expression. His own eyes grew wide as he was drawn back to Derek's movement, and saw what the man was holding. Stiles went as white as a ghost.
"One of you is gonna cut off my arm," he stated breathily, looking between the two teenagers expectantly.
Stiles and Clair traded horrified expressions. The girl stammered, unsure of what to say or do, but began to step forward. Ready to do it if Stiles couldn't, Clair wasn't going to blame him if he refused. She didn't want to do it either. But she would if she had to.
Also, she definitely had a stabler hand, seen as she doesn't faint at the sight of blood. Which could not be said for the other. Stiles quickly lifted a hand, stopping Clair where she stood. He nodded his head.
"I'll do it," he huffed, his skin start to turn green with sickness. Clair went to protest but Stiles gave her a small smile, silently reassuring her that it was okay. Derek handed the bone saw to Stiles, who turned it on and immediately groaned. "Oh, my God. What if you bleed to death?"
"It'll heal... If it works..."Derek grunted, tying an elastic around his arm to cut off some of the circulation and mark where Stiles was supposed to cut.
Clair's breath was starting to grow panicked, huffing nervously where she stood in the corner. Her back, flushed against the wall like she was hoping she could push herself through and forget all about what was happening in the room. Were they really going to cut off a guy's arm? What the hell had their life become?
"Ugh. Look, I don't know if I can do this" Stiles gagged, looking up at Derek like the werewolf could just decide at that moment not to die. Clair wanted to claim that she would do it, but her mouth refused to open. The only thing that left her lips was a panicked squeak.
"Why not?" Derek grunted impatiently, glowering up at Stiles.
"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!"
Clair managed to let out a choked laugh at the boy's exasperated statement. He had always been squeamish when it came to blood.
"You faint at the sight of blood!?" Derek yelped incredulously, looking at Clair for confirmation. She sighed and nodded mindlessly. Stiles scoffed at her and stammered to defend himself.
"N-No! But I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!" Stiles exclaimed, waving his arms frantically. Derek dropped his head with a sigh and waved his uninjured arm at Clair.
"Then she's going to do it-" Stiles interrupted Derek hastily as soon as Clair was brought up.
"No!"
"All right, fine. How about this-- either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head." Derek threatened, pressing his lips into a deep scowl.
Stiles scoffed and leaned his arms on the table, trying to stand his ground. "Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats any–" Derek grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him across the table, almost slamming his head into the cold metal. Clair yelped and jolted forward to grab him, but Derek turned to her with a snarl. Telling her to back off. "Oh, my God! Okay. All right. Bought. Sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it."
Never mind, Clair completely understood why they were so keen on letting him die. He was an asshole.
Suddenly, Derek's face screwed up in discomfort. "What? What are you doing?" Derek leaned over the edge of the table and threw up a disgusting mass of black liquid. Clair jumped away as the liquid splashed toward her shoes. She looked up at the werewolf with a disgusted wince.
"Holy God, what the hell is that?" Stiles whined in disgust.
"It's my body... trying to heal itself..." Derek groaned, leaning away from Stiles and finally releasing the boy from his grip.
"it's not doing a very good job..." Clair muttered, Stiles regarded her with a silent grunt of agreement but Derek ignored her comment.
"Now. You gotta do it now." Derek coughed out, spluttering around the black substance that slipped past his lips.
"Look, honestly, I don't think I can-" Stiles replied, leaning his weight in his arms while he tried to avoid looking at the bone saw and Derek's arm.
"Just do it!" Derek insisted, slamming one of his hands in the metal table top. Both Stiles and Clair flinched. Stiles gave in to Derek's request, picking up the bone saw and holding it against the older man's arm.
"Oh, my God. Okay, okay..." Stiles huffed. Clair took a deep breath and clamped her hands over her eyes, she really didn't want to see a man's arm get severed.
For her entire life she had been completely fine with gore, but then again, seeing it in real life was completely different. She couldn't seem to open her eyes. "God.... All right, here we go..."
"STILES!" a shout erupted from the doorway. Scott push through the door with a distraught expression.
"Scott..." Clair sighed in relief, pushing herself away from the wall and ripping the bone saw out of Stiles' hand, discarding it on one of the many counters.
"What the hell are you doing?" Scott demanded, panic evident in his ridged form.
"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares!" Stiles sighed in relief, his posture sagging as the tension drifted from his shoulders.
"Did you get it?" Derek asked with urgency, leaning towards Scott, who pulled a bullet out of his pocket and handed it to the older werewolf. Derek took it greedily his fingers fumbling over the smooth metal.
"What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles questioned. Derek wobbled on his feet, growing paler by the second.
"I'm gonna..." Derek muttered weakly, his eyes beginning to close. "I'm gonna..." he called once more. Clair jolted forward trying to stabilize him, but he fell hard and fast, hitting the ground before she couldn't reach him. The bullet went tumbling from his hand and towards one of the drainage pipes.
"No! No, no, no, no..." Scott dove after the Bullet while Stiles came to aid Clair in waking up Derek. She grabbed his sweaty face and shook him, trying to wake him up.
"Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!" Stiles shouted, hauling on the werewolf's shirt, but there was no response. As Clair had said earlier, he was hefty, and they couldn't lift him off the floor.
"Scott, what do we do?" Clair panted out in panic.
"I don't know! I can't reach it!" Scott yelped desperately stretching his shoulder under the counter to get more leverage.
"He's not waking up..." Stiles muttered, drawing Clair's eyes back to the unconscious man. She whimpered in panic and leaned over him, pressing her knuckle into the middle of his sternum and rubbing in harsh motions.
"Come on...wake up you stupid werewolf," she muttered, her heart hammering in her chest. Stiles looked at the girl in confusion and tried to take her hands away but she grunted and ripped out of his hold.
"What are you doing..." Stiles questioned, his voice holding a panicked but gentle edge.
"A sternal rub, it's supposed to stimulate the brain and- and make you s-so uncomfortable that your body has to respond!" Stiles nodded and put his ear down toward Derek's mouth, attempting to see if he was breathing. Panic filled his face as he launched back up, looking at Clair with wide eyes.
"I think he's dying... I think he's dead!" Stiles exclaimed, his breaths coming faster. He was starting to panic as well. They needed to get this whole thing over with before Stiles and Clair had full-blown panic attacks. Clair shook her head in defiance and pressed harder into his chest.
"Just hold on! Come on..." Scott gave a strained huff, but then gasped and pulled back holding the bullet in his hand "Oh! I got it! I got it!" Stiles sighed in relief and gently pushed the girls hands off of Derek's chest. She almost didnt let him, but saw the determined look on his face and backed off.
"Please don't kill me for this." He grunted with his fist raised, ready to strike Derek in the face. Clair winced as the contact was made, and Derek went shooting up pushing Stiles off "Ugh! Ow! God!" the boy writhing in pain, holding his hand flush to his chest.
"Give me–" Derek muttered loosely, and Scott brung him to his feet. Derek pushed Scott to the side as soon as he was standing and had the bullet in his hand.
Clair ran to Stiles's side, latching onto his arm as he grimaced in pain. Scott followed, and she grabbed his hand as well. Holding both of them in her shaky grasp.
Derek bit the tip off of the bullet, spilling the contents onto the metal table with a grunt. The teens watched in anxious curiosity as he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the wolfbane substance on fire. It sparked, and pale blue smoke drifted into the air around it.
Derek scooped it into his hand and hastily clamped his hand over the bullet wound, pressing the substance into the injury with a howl of pain. He dropped to the ground, writhing in pain as he let out an animalistic roar that bellowed through the clinic. Clair's grip on the boys tightened as the dark veins surrounding the wound slowly faded away, letting Derek's arm heal completely.
"That. Was. Awesome!!! Yes!!!" Stiles exclaimed, fist pumping as Derek leaned up, panting heavily and looking at the teens with indifference.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked, clearly concerned about the display he had just witnessed.
"Well, except for the agonizing pain..." Derek stated sarcastically, pushing himself up and dusting off his clothes.
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health..." Stiles snarked, leaning against Clair's shoulder as he continued to rub his hand. She was beginning to worry that he had broken it.
"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that? An- and, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything–" Scott began, but Derek quickly stopped him, an appalled look on his face.
"You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?"
"Well, why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are." Scott scoffed, waving his hands dramatically. Derek's face soured, pulled into a deep scowl of bitter hate.
"I can show you exactly how nice they are."
"What do you mean?" Scott questioned, but Derek didnt say anything else. He just walked out the door. Scott didnt hesitate to follow behind him, leaving Clair and Stiles behind in an empty clinic.
Clair let out a sigh of relief once the angry werewolf was out of sight, and pulled away from the boy next to her. Stiles let out an awkward laugh, jittering on the heels of his feet.
"Well, that just happened," he scoffed, looking at her with a humorous eyebrow raise. Clair scoffed out a laugh and shook her head at the boy; But noticed his continued motion of soothing his aching hand and reached out to examine it. "Oh! It's fine just sore, you know, punching a werewolf and all!" he tried to shake her off but she just held tighter.
"It's bruising," Clair whispered, tracing her fingers lightly over his tender skin. Stiles sucked his lower lip between his teeth to stop the pained grunt from leaving his lips. "We're in a veterinary clinic...I'm sure we could find some numbing cream and a bandage," Clair offered gently, pulling away from him to look in the cupboards.
"Loony, I'm good, really you don't-"
"I already found the bandages, might as well," she chuckled, raising the ace wrap above her head to show the boy. Clair returned to his side and carefully bandaged up his bruised knuckles, taking her time to ensure that they weren't too loose or tight.
She could feel his eyes trained on her face, watching each microexpression she displayed with fervor. "Done...you might want to ice it when you get home," Clair muttered, giving the boy a subtle smile, which he returned.
"Thanks, but I still have to drive you home," he scoffed, humor lacing his tone. Clair huffed and pushed open the door to the clinic, looking back to give him a taunting glance.
"You know...I could drive if it hurts too much," she offered, though she knew he would refuse.
"Ha!" he barked, throwing his head back with a lopsided smirk, "Yeah, no thanks, Loony. I'd actually like to make it home alive tonight," Stiles settled his hand on Clair's shoulder, pushing her toward his jeep with a content grin.
🔥
(Mynx)
Mynx rubbed the top of one of the kitten's heads through the bars of their cage, and twirled her earphones in her other hand. She leaned her head back in contemplation of everything that she had just heard.
So they knew? Scott and his friend all knew about the supernatural. And Derek already knew about the hunters. Did he know about what the Alpha did to Laura? Did he know about Mynx and her father?
Mynx needed to meet him, no matter what it took. They'd even barge into his burnt, creepy, house if they needed to. He needed to know everything. He needed to know everything Laura had discovered... everything she had shared with Mynx.
One way or another, they were going to avenge Laura and see to it that the alpha was nothing more than a fur coat they could line their floors with. Mynx refused to let her die, for nothing.