REMEDY ⇢ STILINSKI

eighteen

"Did you get the picture?" Scott asked as soon as Stiles answered.

"Yeah, I did. It looks just like the drawing," Stiles answered. Derek grabbed Stiles' wrist, pulling the phone towards him.

"Is there something on the back of it?" Derek asked, ignoring Stiles' whimpers as he held his wrist painfully. "An opening, an inscription, something?"

"No, the thing's flat," Scott answered. "It doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing."

Brooke knocked Derek harshly on the shoulder, making him let go of Stiles' wrist. Stiles smiled at her gratefully and rubbed the sore joint.

"And where are you?" Scott kept talking, "You're supposed to be here, you're first line! You're not gonna play if you're not here to start."

"I know," Stiles said. "Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him I'll be there? I'm just gonna be a little bit late, okay?"

Stiles hung up the phone. Immediately, Derek said, "You're not gonna make it."

Brooke hit him on the shoulder. "Derek!"

"No, it's okay, I know," Stiles said. He rubbed his hands over his head in frustration.

"And you didn't tell him about his mom, either," Derek said. Brooke smacked him on the shoulder again.

"Not until we find out the truth," Stiles said. His car pulled into a stop in front of the hospital, his headlights lighting up the LONG-TERM CARE sign.

"One more thing," Derek said. He grabbed the back of Stiles' head and shoved it violently into his steering wheel. Brooke instantly flew forward, cradling Stiles' face in her hands to make sure he was okay.

"Oh my god," Stiles groaned in pain, trying to suppress the blush forming under Brooke's touch. "What the hell was that for?"

"You know what that was for!" Derek replied, alluding to Stiles using his body earlier to get Danny to trace the text. "Go!"

Stiles climbed out of the car and Brooke followed him, but turned to give Derek a hard glare before leaving the driver's seat.

"Don't worry, there's no permanent damage to your little boyfriend's face," Derek said.

"Shut up," Brooke said, leaning over to punch him across the shoulder once more before leaving the car.

She quickly joined Stiles in the trek to the hospital, her phone vibrating just as they reached the doors, causing her to stop.

"What is it?" Stiles asked.

"Just a text from my dad," Brooke answered. He was currently in Mexico, somewhere in the Yucatan. It was a short text, simply him telling her he was going to bed and to wish her friends good luck at the lacrosse game.

Brooke didn't feel like explaining that she wasn't going to be able to make the game, so she just shoved the phone into her back pocket. She nodded at Stiles when he silently asked if she was okay, and he opened the door for her as they entered the hospital.

They made their way to the receptionist desk, only to find it completely deserted. Brooke leaned over the counter, trying to see if she could see anybody. Stiles copied her actions, but leaned too far forward and fell onto the desk behind the counter. Brooke quickly pulled him up, trying to arrange the items on the desk as if nothing had been touched.

"Uh, hello?" Stiles called out. Nobody answered his call.

"This definitely isn't the way to run a hospital," Brooke remarked at the ghost town of a lobby. "Where is everyone?"