Saving Stilinski

One For All, All For Stiles

Stiles couldn't stand up anymore. His ankles rolled and his full weight fell on the two girls supporting him. He felt Allison tighten her grip around his waist, heard Lydia's strained breaths in his ear. A mud puddle on the forest floor went in and out of focus. "Stiles!" Allison gasped on his left. "Stiles, no!" The teen's right knee, bare beneath the hem of his cross country uniform, landed in the puddle and splashed mud across Lydia's nude heels.

Lydia squeaked and fell with Stiles as he collapsed in stages: knees, ankles, butt, left hip, his shoulder landing against Lydia's stomach, his cheek above her heart. "Oh no, no, Stiles," she gasped, "it's just a little further. I can see the mouth of the cave."

"Liar," Stiles whispered. He licked his pale lips and hugged the gashes that stretched halfway around his body from his bellybutton to his spine. It was dusk, a dark dusk. What started as a sprinkle had snowballed into a storm with thunder so loud that the three friends could barely hear each other speak.

Allison positioned her body above Stiles to keep the rain out of his face. "Stiles, listen to me. Scott and the others will find us soon. You just have to hang on a little longer."

Right on cue, a wolf howl echoed through the woods. "Derek..." Stiles whispered.

Lydia wiped her strawberry blonde hair out of her face. "You can recognize him by his roar?"

"I can recognize all of their howls," said Stiles. "I heard Cora right before you two found me. She sounded off, though. I think she's hurt..." Stiles frowned up at the girls. His eyes drooped like a sleepy infant's. "Am I – Am I hurt?"

Lydia stroked his cheek. "It isn't bad." Her voice trembled despite her best efforts. "That girl werewolf, the Alpha, she attacked you during the race, remember? You and Boyd."

"Boyd's dead," Stiles whispered. His eyes widened in terror. "She killed him. Oh God, Scott, Derek..."

"They can take care of themselves," Allison reminded him. "Stiles, you have to get up. I know these woods – the cave is only a hundred yards away."

"Can't." Stiles' blood dyed the mud puddle red.

"You have to," Allison urged him. "Stiles, we can't carry you." Liquid rolled down Stiles' cheeks. Whether it was rainwater or teardrops, the girls didn't know. "Stiles, get up – get up now!"

Lydia took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "Stiles?" Her thumb moved from his cheek to his chin to his lips. "Stiles, I'm scared. I need your help." His chocolate eyes fixed on hers. "I need you." And then, as gentle as a butterfly landing on a flower, Lydia pressed her warm, cranberry-colored lips against his cold, white mouth.

The kiss woke him up like a shot of adrenaline. He stared into Lydia's eyes but spoke to Allison, "Only a hundred yards?"

"Yes."

"If I pass out, I want you to go to the cave without me."

"Stiles—"

"Please, Allison."

Another wolf howl interrupted them. It was louder, closer. The girls looked expectedly at Stiles. "Was that Scott?" Allison asked.

Stiles shook his head.

"Isaac?"

"I don't think so..." Stiles took a deep breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I don't recognize it. It must be—"

"One of the Alphas," Lydia whispered, terrified.

•••

Derek howled so loud at the rising half-moon that his own eardrums popped. He didn't care if he drew every Alpha in the state to him. Boyd was dead, Cora was injured and the rain had washed away all traces of Stiles.