Appetite for Destruction

Another Fine Mess

Ow.

Yeah, you know you're screwed when your first coherent thought was 'ow'.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at a blackened wooden ceiling and, too exhausted to do anything else, I remained where I was. Thoughts were nonsensical and I struggled to make sense of what had happened.

Something's wrong, I managed to think through the confusion. Something's very wrong. Every impulse in my body wanted to sink back into blissful oblivion, but then a tidal wave of information hit me; the full moon, the fight to get the Betas under control, Lydia -

I tried to get up and every bone in my body protested, tearing a groan from my throat. I remained lying on the floor, focusing on breathing slowly even though taking deep breaths felt like knives in my lungs. The room finally stopped spinning.

"Ginger?"

I shot up and turned to face the speaker, coming face to face with Alan Deaton.

Seriously, did he just follow us around or something?

"You..." I was still completely disoriented, trying to get my bearings as I looked around, spotting -

"Derek!"

Derek was lying on the floor to my right, and my heart leapt into my throat as I grabbed his wrist. Good, he had a pulse. He was alive and, upon further inspection, I found that his breathing was steady. That purple powder was still on his face and when I ran my hand across my mouth I realized it was on mine too.

"The hell is this?" I wondered aloud, frowning at the little purple grains on my fingers.

"Powdered Wolfsbane," Deaton explained when he crouched down next to me, "Knocked you out instantly."

I looked back at Derek and noticed the four deep incisions on his forearms. They were claw marks, and it was only then that I realized there was a sharp ache on my own arm where four identical marks were. Had Lydia done this? Why hadn't they healed?

I looked between Deaton and Derek, hoping one of them would do something to improve the situation, and Deaton seemed to understand what I was looking for and pulled a small silver object from his pocket.

"Cover your ears." He advised, and I let go of Derek's wrist to press my hands tightly over my ears - and thank God I did. The second my ears were covered Deaton gave the whistle a long, hard blow and even with the sound muffled my ears were still ringing when it stopped.

It had the desired affect, at least. Derek's eyes snapped open and he looked around the room frantically, only calming once he realized who was in the room with him. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "That sound..." He rubbed at his right ear, wincing. "What was that?"

Deaton held the dog whistle out for Derek's inspection, a slight smirk on his face when Derek took a moment to register what it was before rolling his eyes.

Yeah, he was fine.

Derek pushed himself to his feet and I decided that was a good idea. It took longer than it should have for us to stand, and when we were on our feet Derek stumbled into me and would have sent both of us back to the floor if it wasn't for Deaton steadying us.

"You'll be weak for several hours." He informed us, which prompted Derek to study the deep marks decorating his forearm, then grabbing my arm to inspect the matching ones on my skin.

"That actually happened..." He said quietly, like he was just now realizing something. When he looked at the floor I followed his gaze, and when I saw what he was so unnerved about ice settled into my stomach.