Heavenly. Teen Wolf (s.s)

ix. as i lay dying

"What's he saying?" Gracie pressed, catching Stiles' attention.

He shook his head, handing Derek the phone. "You're not gonna believe where he's telling me to take you."

Gracie raised her eyebrows while Derek ignored him, holding the phone to his face as he put Scott on speakerphone. "Did you find it?"

"How am I supposed to find one bullet?" Gracie could Scott more clearly now. "They have a million. This house is like -- the fricken Walmart of guns."

"Look, if you don't find it, then I'm dead, all right?" Derek reminded him.

"I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Scott mumbled through the phone.

"Then think about this. The Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time you either kill with him or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet."

Derek hung up the call and passed the phone back to Stiles.

"All right," Stiles said, starting up the Jeep and pulling out onto the road once again. "To the animal clinic."

The drive to the clinic took another fifteen minutes and Derek was looking even worse by they time they pulled up to the modest building. Stiles held onto Derek while his sister searched for the spare key behind the dumpster and when she unlocked the door, the three of them stumbled in.

"Does Northern blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked when Scott texted him back after he and Gracie helped the werewolf sit down inside.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek told him. "He has to bring me the bullet."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm gonna die without it."

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Today 6:58 PM

Stiles
He needs that bullet!

Stiles typed into his phone as he responded to Scott, requesting the presence of the bullet as he hit send.

"Okay. You know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles said as he and Gracie took him to the exam room. Under the florescent lights, his wound looked much, much worse. The wound in his biceps had black lines sprouting from it; it look like his veins were discolored.

"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me," he said between breaths, looking at the wound carefully. He turned to his sister. "Grace, get me a tourniquet."

She nodded and went to the counter, opening random drawers and rummaging through them.

"'Positivity' just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles snarked.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time -- last resort," Derek said. After Gracie handed a rubber tie, he tied it around his arm that made the veins in his arm bulge.

"Which is?" Stiles asked.

"You're gonna cut off my arm."

"Oh, my God," Stiles panicked, almost looking like he was about to faint and Gracie didn't blame him. "What if you bleed to death?"

"Are you insane?" The Hale girl exclaimed, just as panicked at the Stilinski boy.

"It'll heal if it works," Derek said with shrug, not too bothered by it.