𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 ▷ Stiles Stilinski¹

9|last resort

To Scott:
You need to get here NOW

"Let's take him into the other room. Away from the dogs, they're giving me a headache," I muttered, massaging my temples.

Stiles agreed, before walking over and helping to lift the, may I mention heavy, man into the room where the doc worked on his patients.

As Stiles flicked the lights on, Derek pulled off his shirt. And I am not ashamed to admit, that I did not mind this change in clothing choice, as my eyes widened a little.
Stiles waved a hand in front of my face, and I swatted him away, mouthing 'What?' with a shrug.

I noticed a tattoo on his back. The black ink displayed three spirals, connected in the middle.

Now, that symbol I know I saw on 'Merlin'. It's pretty, but I couldn't remember what it was. I think it was in an episode with dragons, but I doubted that dragons were real. Who knew though; considering werewolves were real and all.

Probably a better question to ask Derek when he wasn't dying.

We joined Derek around the cold, metal table as he laid his arm on it. The blackened veins creeped up his arm, making their way towards his heart as the blood trailed everywhere else.
Stiles cleared his throat, "You know, that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of."

I raised my eyebrows, looking at him with my signature, 'Are-you-freaking-kidding-me?' look.
Safe to say, he recognised it immediately.

Derek, for once, didn't threaten to kill Stiles after his sarcastic comment. "When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." His breathing became laboured as he began to search the cupboards for something.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?"
I couldn't help but agree with Stiles. Derek was a real downer.

Maybe he should stop wearing so much black; put on some colours to try and brighten his mood a little.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, last resort . . ."

"Which is?"

I didn't like where this was headed.

Derek finally found what he had been searching for, and held up his prize for the two of us to see. Afterwards, however, I wished I had not seen. Because in Derek's hand, was a very real, very sharp, electric hand saw.
"You're going to cut off my arm."

"I think I'm going to be sick," I whispered as I avoided eye contact with the shirtless man. Stiles didn't appear too impressed with Derek's 'last resort' either.

♡♢♤♧

We gave Scott another hour, before Derek had had enough. He slid the object across the table, and Stiles picked it up, revving it slightly, before dropping it. I looked over to see Derek tightening a strap around his arm to slow the blood flow.
"This is nuts. This is not actually happening," I ran a hand through my hair.

"What if you bleed to death?" Stiles asked as he leaned his elbows on the table so that he was level with the dying werewolf.

"It'll heal if it works," he muttered, his mouth biting down on the band to help himself tighten it.

Stiles' face scrunched in disgust. "Ugh. Look, I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?"

"Well, because the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!"

Derek smacked a hand down on the table in frustration, "You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No. But I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!" Stiles pointed out. Fair argument.