Saving Stilinski

The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Chris Argent spread a weathered paper map across the McCall's kitchen table. "Here," he said, and circled a road that dead-ended in the woods. "The distillery's here. Aiden said that's where Gerard intends to kill Stiles – at the same spot where Ennis declared vengeance."

Allison stood beside her father with her arms held tight against her chest. "According to the Druid texts they need a full night of moonlight to properly sacrifice an Optimalpha, so we have until sunset tomorrow to come up with a plan to rescue them."

"Scott, Isaac and Derek might already be dead," Cora pointed out. Her pale face looked gaunt, haunted by the situation. "There's no reason why they would keep them alive."

"If that were the case," said Deaton, "why did they bother to capture them instead of slitting their throats right on the lawn? Their plan involved them, too. Even if it's just a minor role."

Lydia stepped closer to the table. "That distillery has been abandoned for years, right? So when did Deucalion and the others get around to building an underground base below it?"

Ethan sat at the end of the table with Danny reading Druid texts beside him. "They didn't have to build it, the space was already there and used when the distillery was working. The basement is huge – uses up that entire hill – twice as long and three times as wide as the structure above it. I've only been there once, though, so I know how to get in and how to get out, but that's about it. We'll have to rely on our sense of smell to find the others."

"And then?" Chris Argent collapsed back into a wooden chair. "We haven't exactly had much luck so far, guys. They've been two steps ahead of us and all of our best fighters are the ones we're trying to rescue."

"I think we've been quite lucky," Lydia said with pluck in her voice. "We're alive. That's luck, and it isn't dumb luck."

"She's right." Deaton started emptying a satchel he brought from his office: vials of herbs, bullets laced with wolf's bane, night-vision goggles, etc. "Now, come on. We need everybody's help if we're going to save them. We need everyone's ideas. Who's first?"

When no one spoke up or raised a hand and the silence went from expectant to awkward, Danny slowly flexed his forefinger toward the ceiling. "New here, I know," he said, his voice a bit shaky but his resolve firm. "Allison and Ethan have filled me in as best they can and I learn pretty quickly, to be honest. You all probably don't have much of a reason to take me seriously, really, but... I think I have an idea."

He held up one of the books. Lydia had started to translate it but, Danny, who was a quick study, finished. "If I'm reading this right, Optimalphas don't transform like other werewolves. The bite changes them, sure, but there's one more step before they can reach their full strength and potential. It's a ritual. We just have to get to Stiles, buy enough time to perform it, and he can save us all."

•••

Stiles froze. His eyes were wide but not seeing, his breath waited in his lungs. A heartbeat later he grabbed Derek's hand and yanked it against his own throat. "What's the cliché...?" Stiles whispered to Derek. "Put me out of my misery? Put me out of my misery, Derek. Kill me."

If Stiles hadn't just been electrocuted within an inch of his life, Derek wouldn't have been able to pull his hand back. "Don't be stupid," he spat. He meant the sentence to come out a lot more threatening that the squeak implied.

"Don't be ridiculous," Isaac added. He patted Stiles' foreleg. A vein in his temple vibrated.

"Listen to me. Would you just—" Stiles grasped Scott's t-shirt and pulled his face closer. "If Gerard kills me he'll become a full-fledged uber-Darach. An uber-Darach, Scott! If you kill me now there's no way that will happen."

Scott's jaw set. "First of all," he said, "we're not going to let them kill you no matter what. Second of all, even if Gerard did become a super-Darach—"

"Uber."

"Shut up. Even if that happened we would do what we've always done. We'd stop him. No matter how invincible he thinks he is there's always a way to stop him."

"What I don't understand is why Deucalion is working for him," said Isaac, scratching the back of his neck with the palms of his fingers. "He's all death and destroying and blah blah Demon Wolf, blah blah, but it seems like he's nothing more than Gerard's little butler."

Stiles snorted. The pressure in his throat hurt, to his surprise. He reminded himself to lie still while he healed.

"What I don't understand is why this wolf's bane incense hasn't killed us yet." Derek looked at the vent high above them. "If it's the same concoction that Victoria Argent used on you, Scott, we never should've healed like we have."

"Maybe Gerard just wants to weaken us, not kill us... yet," said Isaac.

"Probably wants to make you watch him kill me," Stiles muttered. Derek tightened his grip around the younger man's arm. "Ow..."

"Sorry," Derek muttered. He adjusted the way he held Stiles' weight in his lap and ordered his muscles to cushion his body instead of support it.

Suddenly Isaac leaned over Stiles' waist. "Dude, what's under your shirt?"

"Huh?" Stiles fingered the fabric above his naval. "Nothing – why – wait, something itches..." He clawed at his shirt and then relaxed and let Derek fold the clothing back. A crumpled piece of paper sat on Stiles' stomach. "What the...?"

"Love letter?" Isaac asked, pure sarcasm.

"Aiden... Aiden must have stuffed it down my shirt when he dragged me in here." Stiles flicked the paper towards Derek using his thumb and middle finger. "What's it say?"

Derek un-crumpled the paper and smoothed it out using his own chest. His eyes flitted across the page three times, widening with each go. "It's just a receipt, Stiles. Must've had it in your pocket." His expression communicated something else to the boys, though, and all three immediately realized that whatever was on the paper shouldn't be said aloud with three pairs of werewolf ears listening to their every breath. So, Derek held the paper up to let Stiles, Isaac and Scott read it themselves. It was only ten words:

I'm on your side now

help is coming

be ready