fade ➹ (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter 13

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF. Only Melanie and her plot lines.

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"Calm down we're almost there." Frowned Stiles, squeezing the steering wheel immensely, his knuckles a ghostly white color. Once again I was stuck in the backseat, nothing really out of the ordinary. We had gotten Derek in the car, currently planted on the side of the road. Panic laced in everyone's voice.

"Almost where?"

"Your house?" Stiles and I rose an eye brow. Where else were we suppose to take the ill werewolf? His underground lair?

Derek shook his head vigorously "No, you can't take me there."

"What?" Stiles shook his head, "We can't take you to you're own house?"

•~•~•

"What are we suppose to do with him?" I hissed at Stiles, Derek shooting me a tired glare. 

"Take him somewhere." Scott answered for him, currently on speaker phone, "Anywhere."

"By the way." Stiles added. "He's starting to smell?"

I could hear the confusion swirling throughout Scott's voice "Like what?"

"Like death."

"Okay." Scott huffed over the phone, an uncomfortable silence taking over the vehicle as he thought of what we could do with Derek, "take him to the animal clinic."

"What? How will we get in?" I questioned, leaning in closely towards the phone. "And Deaton?"

"He's gone by now, and there's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."

I nodded, glancing over Derek, who was struggling to keep his eyelids from closing. "Your not going to believe where he wants us to take you."

Derek snatched the phone from Stiles' slim fingers, exhaling deeply, "Did you find it?"

"How am I suppose to find one bullet? They have like a million!" Scott yelled, "This place is like the Wal-Mart of guns."

I laughed to myself lightly, Allison was such a sweet and shy girl. Who would of thought she has numerous guns laying about at her house.

After the phone call had concluded, I nodded at Stiles. "To the animal Clinic."

•~•~•

Derek was slung over Stiles and I's shoulder. His breathing slow and heart rate most likely dropping drastically. He was dying.

We had managed to pry him out the car, find the dang key, and open the door all without a single word. I wasn't sure what Derek and Stiles' case was, but I wasn't talking because I was scared out of my mind. I didn't want to watch this person, or in his case werewolf die.

We placed him down, his arms reaching outward to the operation table. Now playing the role of his support system.

"Hey Derek." Stiles smiled lightly. Nerves probably rampaging throughout his body, "This doesn't look like something some Echinacea and a good nights sleep could fix."