SANITY | STILES STILINSKI

8 | Bootlegged Surgeons

"...it occurs to me that one day was never meant to hold so much."

― KATIE CONTUGNO

YUNA ; LULLABIES

VIII. BOOTLEGGED SURGEONS

SPENCER POV

"You're currently dying, and that's cool, or whatever, but I fucking called shotgun." I snarled, my voice laced with deep irritation for the werewolf in the passenger side seat. "And if you don't come back here right now and give me what I called for I'm gonna take a spoon full of wolf's bane and use it to scoop your eyes out."

"You're girlfriend's giving away a little bit more violence than her usual dose." Derek grunted, disregarding my umpteenth threat and flinching as he grabbed his side.

I thought about yelling 'we don't date', but then again, Stiles and I have done this numerous amount of times and our point never comes across. Not to Derek, not to the 911 operator, hell not even to Scott at times. Basically it was useless to even waste our breath and say anything, and I could tell Stiles felt the same way due to his eye roll and shrug.

I whipped out my phone, sending Scott a text.

to ; scott the thot

im sorry scott, but if you don't have that damn bullet, there's going to be a homicide in this car and i really can't afford to go to jail right now, the vampire diaries comes on tomorrow night, and if i miss paul wesley's beautiful ass face, and the adorable crease in his forehead, so help me god.

from ; scott the thot

i need more time spence, try not to slaughter anybody.

"Scott says he needs more time." I announced, shifting in my tiny space in the back.

Stiles nodded, banging his head against the back of his chair. "Yeah I know. I texted the bastard."

"Don't text and drive, it's not worth a life." I warned, shooting my index finger at him through the rear view mirror.

He smiled, giving me an amused look as he relaxed in the drivers seat. But all that went out the window when Derek-the-amazingly-gorgeous-Dickhead decided it was once again his time to shine, by bleeding through his shirt.

Stiles let out a huff of hot air, rolling his eyes. "Hey try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there."

"Almost where?" The werewolf asked, his head was faced down, all the energy drained from his body, his face getting paler by the second.

"Your house."

Derek's head shot up so fast I practically got whiplash from looking at him. "What? You can't take me there."

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"Not while I can't protect myself."

This was the end for Stiles, he had reached his breaking point, and this was the utmost he could take from Derek Hale. Swerving, he pulled over, shutting off the ignition as he roughly adjusted his body to the side. "What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Huh, are you dying?"