iii. REWIND

10.9K 361 80
                                    

iii. REWIND

✢ ✢ ✢

Having a seemingly fifteen - maybe sixteen - year old Derek Hale in their care was not ideal to any of the teenagers whatsoever. In fact, it had them going insane with confusion. Their minds were worn out from thinking, trying to come up with various scenarios and theories as to how this happened. Then again, when they don't know much about an Aztec temple in Mexico that belonged to supposed werejaguars, they were bound to be met with something slightly life threatening. Then again, Foster wasn't even sure if aging backwards was life threatening. Unless he was Benjamin Button or something.

Either way, that was why - after dropping Kira and Malia off back at their houses after a four hour car ride with everyone smashed together in the back. Not to mention that Derek's body was atop all of their knees since there was no where else to even put him. - Lydia and Foster were placed beneath the ledge of the clinic as the rain poured down around them, awaiting Stiles and Scott. The two boys hobbled in the pouring rain as they lead him toward the doors.

Immediately, they had called Deaton. As expected considering he's basically a guru when it comes to all things bizarre in the supernatural world. Going from twenty five to fifteen was considered rather bizarre in Foster's book.

When they were finally nearing the two girls, Lydia and Foster opened the doors for them and allowed them to race Derek inside. They rushed inside, even if it was one in the morning, and Deaton swiped all of the objects off the metal table and to the floor so that they could place Derek down.

They had wrapped a blanket around Derek prior to now, the boy freezing to the core. Foster had never felt cold like that before in her entire life, wondering how the boy wasn't going into hypothermic shock as this point.

The four teenagers looked toward Deaton for his answer, wondering if he even knew about what was going.

All Deaton did was stare down at the Hale, musing, "Wow."

"Wow?" Stiles reiterated, raising a brow. "Wow as in, 'I've seen this before and know exactly what to do' kind of wow? Because that's kind of what we're hoping for."

Glancing toward Stiles, Deaton remarked, "I believe you're overestimating me and my abilities."

Pursing her lips, Foster pointed down toward Derek. "So I'm taking it that you don't have an explanation for all of this."

Without any insight whatsoever to the predicament that the now unconscious teenage boy was in, Foster was almost certain that there was little to nothing that they'd be able to do. They currently had no lead to go off. All they knew was that Kate was the one who did this and they had no idea as to why. They did know that she was currently a werecreature of some sort, none of them certain they even want to know what.

As Foster spoke, the strawberry blonde beside her glanced down toward Derek's still body. Her fingers hesitantly reached Derek's hand, slowly lacing hers with his and squeezing tightly. It may not have been a lot, but maybe she could warm him up just a little bit.

"He's cold," Lydia informed before anyone could speak, everyone glancing toward their locked hands. "Really cold."

In order to examine the boy, Deaton raised Derek's arm up before feeling the temperature of his skin. The entire situation was peculiar to them, unable to decipher how this was even possible. How did one get rewinded into a past age. It didn't seem naturally possible, or even supernaturally. It bent the rules of time and such, it shouldn't have been possible.

"Do you think this is permanent?" Scott inquired, raising a brow. 

Rather than answering him, Deaton merely pulled out his flashlight and pulled Derek's eyelid up before shining the light of his pupil. He watched as they dilated, most of Derek's vitals seeming perfectly fine. No one would notice a thing wrong with him if it weren't for the fact that he was freezing and ten years younger.

Into the Wreckage ▸ Scott McCall (3)Where stories live. Discover now