Wild Ones - Teen Wolf fan fic

Prove it

I stared at him for a few moments. His face showed no trace of humor as he examined my injury.

"I need you to remove your sweatshirt and and lift your shirt."

I frowned and unzipped my hoodie.

"I'm serious. What condition?" I winced as I pulled my arm out of the second sleeve. My under shirt was no longer grey but an awful brownish red across the front. I carefully peeled the fabric up until the wound was visible. I gasped. All around the wound was raised and purple and the wound itself was an angry red and still seeping blood. He frowned and gently prodded the raised skin.

"I am serious. You're in transition. You see how the area around the wound is bruised and firm and your able to breathe? Your body is trying to heal itself. You need to feed. To complete the transition." He began wiping the blood from my torso and met my fixed stare.

"Your kidding, right?" I asked, doubtful. "Oh. Let me guess, you were abducted by aliens? Met big foot? Had issues with the boogy man as a kid?" I snorted and rolled my eyes. He stood and shook his head as if disappointed.

"The sooner you realize and accept what you are, the better your quality of life will be." Dr. Deaton went to one of the many cabinets and came back with a roll of bandages.

"If I'm a vampire, then why don't I have fangs? Why do I have a heart beat? And why haven't I tried to bite you?" I asked, impressed with the man's poker face. I was just waiting for him to crack a smile and say 'haha, you bought it!'. He kneeled beside me and began carefully wrapping the bandage around my leg, keeping steady pressure on my injury.

"I told you. You're in transition. You're heart will always beat, but at a slower rate than a normal human's. You're fangs are retractable, a common trait in superior breeds. And you haven't tried to kill me yet, because you haven't aquired a taste for human blood. That will begin after you've fed for the first time." He finished on my leg and began wrapping my torso. I lifted my arms and tried to wrap my head around what he was saying.

"What if I don't... feed?" I asked, feeling a little uneasy. He was really starting to creep me out.

"You'll die. Your organs will begin to shut down and you'll slip into a coma and then die." He stated it like it was common knowledge. "There. That should do for now. But you need to feed." I frowned.

"Stop saying that!" I groaned.

"Saying what?" He asked, confused. I let out a frustrated sigh and dropped my arms.

"Feed. Stop saying feed. It's freaking me out! I'm not drinking blood, so quit talking about it!" I jerked my shirt down and crossed my arms with a huff. I knew I was acting like a child, but I was tired, filthy, and confused. So, I just didn't care. He sighed and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. I glanced at the clock hanging above his head. 3:08am.

"What's your name?" He asked, watching me.

"Artemis. Artemis McCob." I snapped. All I wanted was to go home and sleep. And forget all the craziness.

"Well, Artemis. You may be 'freaked out', but it's the truth. You need blood and you need it soon." His tone was calm and even. But his words set me on edge.

"And where would I get blood if I decided to actually do it? I doubt anyone is gunna offer." I grumbled. "This is insane. You're insane. I just wanna go home." I stared at the floor and fought back the tears. I had been crying so much the last few days, it was infuriating. I sniffled and rubbed my nose with the back of my hand. Dr. Deaton sighed and walked to me, resting his hand on my shoulder in reassurance.

"Artemis, you've been through a lot, but its not safe for you to go home. Not until you've made the choice. I can help you, but you have to let me." I looked up into his eyes. He showed no sign of lying and he seemed genuinely concerned. I really had no choice, so I caved.

"Alright. I'm still not one hundred percent convinced." I said. "But wierd stuff has been happening to me lately." Deaton frowned.

"Like what?" He asked, watching me closely.

*******************************************

I described everything that had been happening. The nightmares, the visions, the physical changes and my kidnapping with Stiles. I felt my stomach drop. Was he ok? Did Gerard hurt him? What about Scott? What the hell was going on with that kid? Was Scott a vampire? I must have trailed off of what I was saying. Deaton stared at me , waiting for me to continue.

"Gerard said he had a message for Scott and that he only needed one messenger. That's when he did this." I indicated my injuries. "And I died. I felt it. But then everything changed and next thing I know, I'm laying in the woods, covered in leaves. That's when I crawled to the gas station and you found me. How did you find me, anyways?" I asked. When he had found me, it seemed like he was looking for me, like he knew exactly where to find me. Deaton smiled softly.

"I have a few special abilities. I can sense the supernatural. I was closing up the clinic when I felt your presence. I had to find you." I closed my eyes and sighed dramatically.

"This is sooo crazy." I winced as I stood up straight, placing a hand on my chest. It was sore, but nothing in comparison to when Gerard had first stabbed me. I limped to the counter and fiddled with a pair of dog nail clippers.

"You know I'm not gunna drink blood just because I'm starting to believe you, right? I need proof. Prove to me that I'm a vampire." I turned to face him, mustering all the courage I had left. He nodded solemnly.

"Ok. Let's start with the easiest. What's in that trash bin over there?" He pointed to the trash can by the door. I took a step towards it, but he stopped me. "Use your sense of smell. What is in the bin?" I looked at it doubtfully, but closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. I sniffed the air. I could smell bleach, dogs, cats, urine, metal, wood, sweat, cologne, and something sweet. I didn't know what the last scent was, but it had a sweet, metallic tang to it. I took a hesitant step closer to the basket.

"I smell too much. I need to get closer."

"That's fine. Just concentrate on the bin." I nodded and sniffed again.

"Cotton, plastic... paper and a banana peel. And something else. I don't know. It smells... nice?" I opened my eyes. I was still pretty far from the bin and I was able to smell all of it. I swallowed nervously. My throat felt like it was coated in sand. I cleared my throat a bit, but it didn't seem to do anything.

"Was I right?" I asked, glancing at Deaton. He went to the bin and took it to the table and dumped it. A few cotton balls, syringe wrappers, a banana peel, and a crumpled paper towel fell out. The paper towel had smears of brownish red on the edges. Blood. My throat burned fiercely, making me take a step back so my lower back pressed against the counter. Deaton watched me, gaging my reaction.

"That 'nice' smell was blood. It smells different to you now. You want it." He said, sweeping everything back into the bin, not taking his eyes off me. I stared at the bin, horrified, yet intrigued. Maybe this was real.