Cry Me A River | Book Two/Season Two

12

Stiles and I sat like that for the remainder of the day, just talking about nothing yet everything at the same time. For a short period of time, I almost forgot about all of the werewolf drama.

Then Scott called me telling us to meet him at the clinic.

"Ketamine?" Scott questions as Deaton holds up the tiny bottle that does in fact have 'ketamine' on the label.

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage." Deaton explains, setting everything he was holding down onto the table. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time."

I look to Scott, trying to see his reaction. Does he think this will work? Do I think this will work?

"This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for you, Stiles." Deaton points a finger to Stiles, and I look over at him. He nods his head once. "Only you."

"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure." Stiles says as he takes the jar of mountain ash. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?" He questions, looking at the bottle.

I pat his arm, smiling up at him, before speaking.

"Just pour the damn dust." I tell him, bringing my arm back down to my side. He rolls his eyes before Deaton starts to speak again.

"It's from the mountain ash tree, which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for anyone like Scott or Alara to cause me any trouble." Deaton goes on to say, his tone informative.

"Okay, so then what? I just spread this around the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?" Stiles asks.

"They'll be trapped." Deaton answers, nodding his head.

"Doesn't sound too hard." Scott says optimistically. I nod my head, letting out a sigh as I cross my arms over my chest.

"Not all there is. Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles." Deaton tells him.

"If you mean light myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that." Stiles responds, hopefully joking.

"Let me try a different analogy." Deaton starts. "I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

"Force of will." Stiles repeats Deaton's words in almost a whisper.

"If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it." Deaton says, motioning with his hands.

Scott and I look at Stiles and he glances at the two of us, not knowing what to do.

Then, he takes in a deep breath, humming as he does so, almost like he's meditating.

-

I feel my nerves grow as we exit Stiles' jeep, making our way to the trunk. It doesn't help that the whole ride here, Stiles was alarmingly quiet.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask as he reaches into the trunk, grabbing the bag of mountain ash.

"Yeah, why?" He questions, trying to seem normal.

"You just didn't say much the whole way here." I answer, shrugging my shoulders awkwardly. He offers me a weak smile as he shakes his head.

"No, I'm fine." He assures me, but I don't believe a word of it. Instead of arguing, I nod my head, assuming that if he wants to tell me, he will. "Can one of you grab the other bag?"