will, reel it in. your crying is starting to get annoying.
[ 4.06 — 4.07 ]
The pack split up quickly after the events of the game. Kira ran to find her mother, whose name was on the new list uncovered. Scott and Liam stayed behind at the school to deal with the police as Violet was taken into custody. And Derek, Willow, and Stiles rushed Brett to the animal clinic for Deaton to treat.
As time passed, his reaction to whatever wolfsbane Garrett and Violet used got worse. Willow suspected they didn't even do their research on the different types, just opting to get the first kind they found. And because of that, Brett was now seizing uncontrollably with a bright yellow substance foaming out of his mouth.
"What the hell is happening to this kid?" Stiles asked as they all struggled to keep Brett on the operating table.
"He's been poisoned by a rare wolfsbane. I need to make an incision, and you need to hold him as still as possible," Deaton told them.
But holding him still wasn't that easy. Even with Willow helping keep his legs on the table, Stiles and Derek were struggling to keep him in place. Stiles looked at Derek sharply.
"Hey, Derek? How about a little werewolf strength?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm not the only one here with werewolf strength," Derek snapped.
"If you can't hold him still, the incision might kill him," Deaton warned, his scalpel hovering over Brett's chest.
"Derek, he's slipping!" Stiles yelled. "I don't think I can hold him!"
Brett shook violently, completely out of their holds. His limbs flailed as he rolled off the table and onto his feet, his claws catching Derek's arm as he did so. Before Brett could lash out in his feral state, Peter arrived and punched him hard, knocking him out completely.
Everyone looked from the finally still werewolf to Peter, who was rubbing his knuckles. "I guess I still have a little werewolf strength myself," he commented.
Derek eyed his uncle warily. It was a known fact that Peter wasn't as strong as before since coming back from the dead — in the same way that Boyd wasn't as strong or healed as faster since nearly dying.
"Yeah," Derek mumbled. "Maybe more than a little."
Paying no mind to them, Willow crouched by Brett's side, listening carefully for any sign of breathing. But his chest remained unmoving. "Deaton, he's not breathing!"
Deaton quickly joined her on the ground. They all watched as he made a long cut down Brett's sternum. A puff of yellow smoke escaped into the air before disappearing.
"Now your abilities should work," Deaton said, giving Willow a pointed look.
Willow nodded and kissed Brett's sweaty forehead. The cut on his chest healed and his color began to return.
Then as she looked up from Brett tiredly, she spotted Derek across the room. He was looking down at his forearm, which was still sporting three, long scratch marks. Then they healed, but they should've healed seconds after it happened. Not nearly a minute later.
Derek was clearly thinking the same thing as he studied his arm with a worried expression. His eyes. His senses. His healing. He was losing his power.
"Is he okay?" Stiles asked, unaware of the concerning development that Willow, Derek, and Peter were all taking notice of.
"I think he'll be fine, but probably out for a little while," Deaton said. "He's healed but needs rest."
"Guys, can you hear that?" Stiles then asked, leaning closer. "I think he's saying something."
And he was right. Willow paid attention to Brett, who was muttering under his breath, in and out of consciousness.
"The sun... the moon... the truth... The sun... the moon... the truth..."
Deaton leaned back a bit, recognizing the mantra. "Three things cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. It's Buddhist."
It was then that Derek and Peter shared a look. It wasn't a coincidence that the young werewolf was repeating a Buddhist mantra. It told them exactly whose pack he belonged to.
"Satomi," Peter said, knowing they'd need to find her.
Willow recognized the name from the story about how the Nogitsune came to be at the Japanese Internment camp. But she couldn't imagine how Satomi was still alive, especially when she was already old back then. But then again, perhaps things worked differently for werewolves.
"Let's just get him back on the table," Willow said, sighing. "I'm sure the ground isn't very comfy."
Peter and Derek went to move the boy as the others stood to the side. Deaton started cleaning up from the mess Brett made.
"Awe, how sweet. You don't want your and Derek's third to be uncomfy," Stiles said in a teasing voice.
Willow's cheeks heated up, making him snicker. "St - Stiles! That's not funny. And you weren't even there."
"Yeah, but Mason told pretty much everyone about how Brett asked to have a threesome with you and Derek," he informed her.
Peter snorted loudly as Derek awkwardly cleared his throat, setting Brett's body on the table, Derek making sure to back away from the boy that was only a year older than the newly gained baby of the pack. Their reactions only made Stiles laugh harder.
"Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun with this."
"No, you're not," Willow said, stepping closer to Stiles.
He instantly threw his hands up in defense. "Woah, keep your distance, Will. I don't want to be a part of your throuple — ow! Derek, did you just throw a box of dog treats at me?"
"Shut the fuck up, Stiles."
☽︎
The bell rang, signaling that class was beginning. Willow sat in her usual front-row desk, ready to copy down the math notes already on the board.
"Has anyone seen Stiles, Lydia, or Kira today?" Ms. Fleming asked, looking over the class roster. "Malia? Any idea where your friends are?"
Malia looked up from her textbook. "I could try catching their scent," she kindly offered.
Willow bit her lip to hold off a smile as Ms. Fleming awkwardly nodded. "Right. How about I just mark them down as absent?"
Willow knew that Stiles and Lydia were out of school for the day, trying to question Meredith. Perhaps she'd have some insight on this Deadpool. Willow wasn't quite sure where Kira was but figured Scott or her parents knew.
As Ms. Fleming started to talk, Willow was too busy paying attention to notice how Malia was glancing around the room. She heard someone repeating her name, though they weren't in the classroom. The werecoyote quickly shoved her textbook back in her bag and got up to leave.
"Malia," Ms. Fleming said as Malia reached the front of the classroom. "Do you need to be excused from class?"
"Yeah," Malia replied in a 'duh' tone. Then she grabbed Willow's wrist and dragged her out of her desk. "Will too."
"Malia," Willow said in a stern tone as she was led through the hallway. "We really can't just leave class. Especially with the PSATs coming up, and not to mention I'm graduating soon."
"Just come on," Malia said, heading in the direction of the voice.
As they rounded the corner, they spotted Derek standing alone in the stairwell. He had clearly been waiting and was holding Brett's green lacrosse jersey in his hand.
"What are you doing here?" Malia asked him, eyeing him suspiciously. Willow had already let go of Malia's hand and made her way over to her boyfriend to hold his instead.
"Brett's still out of it. I need to find his pack and warn them about the Deadpool," Derek told Malia.
"So, what do you need me for?" she asked.
"I know a little something about this pack," he began. "They have a kind-of secret meeting place in the woods. No one's spent more time in the woods of Beacon Hills than you. This is Brett's." He held out the jersey to her. "Breathe it in."
Malia eyed the garment doubtfully. "I'm not good at that yet," she mumbled.
"Try it," he said, handing the jersey to her. "I'll teach you. Focus on the different scents. Some are tied to identity, others give off an emotion."
Malia closed her eyes and brought the jersey to her nose. It took time and lots of concentration, but eventually, she reopened her eyes, having caught the scent she was meant to find.
Thankfully, Malia didn't question why Derek was having her do this. It was helping her learn and also get out of school, so she had no complaints. But Willow understood. Derek's sense of smell was gone completely, though the rest of the pack didn't know. Malia was his best bet at finding Satomi's pack.
So, instead of going to class, Willow tagged along with the two cousins — even if one of them didn't know they were cousins. Derek was surprised that she didn't insist on staying at school but he didn't question her too hard.
Truthfully, Willow went because she was worried. It seemed like she was always worried about Derek now as his supernatural abilities deteriorated as each day passed. She didn't want him to go out into the woods and then never return because some assassin caught him off guard.
So, Willow was going to stick by Derek's side. Even when hiking through the woods in an outfit not really meant for hiking.
"Their alpha is a woman called Satomi," Derek explained as the three of them piled out of his car at the entrance to the preserve. "She's one of the oldest werewolves alive, and she's learned a lot."
"What does that mean?" Malia asked.
"She's a bitten werewolf," he stated. "Learning control wasn't easy for her — she did something a long time ago that changed her."
Willow knew he was referring to the first innocent life she had taken — a soldier at the internment camp.
The three of them only took a few steps into the trees before Malia stopped, her nose crinkling from something she smelled.
"What is it?" Derek asked her.
"Gunpowder."
Derek looked around before spotting something metallic in the grass. He knelt down and picked up a shotgun shell. They weren't the first ones to come here looking for the pack.
"If Brett's pack is out here, I don't think they're meeting," Derek said. "They're hiding."
They spent several hours in the woods until the sun began to set. Malia, in particular, felt horrible about their inability to find the pack. Because she never caught Brett's scent, they had wandered around aimlessly. A permanent frown was on her face as they all got in the car.
"I'm sorry," Malia mumbled, disappointed in herself and her abilities.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Derek assured her. "If they don't want to be found, then we're not going to find them. Some werewolves have an ability — a kind of mastery over their bodies, where they can actually inhibit their scent."
"They can hide from other werewolves?" Malia asked, surprised.
"From anyone who's trying to find them."
"It's why no one knew about Brett," Willow told her. "Not even Scott could smell him."
"And it was the same with Demarco," Derek added.
"Maybe we need to try something different. Maybe we need to think like Stiles," Malia suddenly said.
"Like a hyperactive spaz?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Willow scoffed and flicked him on the back of his head, making him smile. "Meanie."
"Like a detective," Malia told him. "If they're really Buddhists, then maybe, instead of asking where werewolves hide, we should be asking—"
"—Where would Buddhists hide," Derek finished her thought.
"Malia, you're a genius," Willow said, kissing the werecoyote's cheek. Malia beamed at the praise.
"When Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree, he looked to the east for enlightenment," Derek said, staring at the compass displayed on his car's dashboard.
"Is there some kind of eastern point in Beacon Hills?" Malia asked.
"Yeah. At Lookout Point."
With an actual destination, they sped to the other side of the preserve. They were extra cautious when they got out of the car this time. Derek kept a tight hold on Willow's hand, wanting her near since she wouldn't agree to wait in the car.
As they walked along the edge of the cliff at Lookout Point, Malia suddenly picked up on an alarming smell. She snatched Derek's sleeve, keeping him from going further.
"Malia," he said, watching her carefully.
"You don't smell that?" Malia asked, her eyes wide and nearly watering from how horrifying it was.
"Wait for me," Derek told the girls, slowly walking forward. "Right here."
But Willow didn't listen. Derek went to protest when she returned to his side and grabbed his hand, but she spoke first. "We go together or not at all."
Derek sighed and nodded. Malia joined them and they all three crept deeper into the woods. They didn't have to look much farther for Satomi's pack. And when they did find them, they found them dead.
Willow let out a soft gasp, seeing several bodies littering the small clearing. They all had dried, black blood around their eyes and mouths. Willow looked over the faces, trying to see if anyone identifiable was among them, such as Brett's friends from Devenford Prep.
"What happened?" Malia asked. She'd never seen so much death in one place.
"I think they might have been poisoned," Derek guessed.
"That's great," she muttered. "If assassins with guns don't get you, then the ones with wolfsbane poison will. Or maybe one with no mouth. Maybe we should all be running from Beacon Hills. Running for our lives, as fast as we can."
"We can't run, Malia," Willow said softly. Her eyes were watering, mourning for the innocent pack even though she didn't know them. "Even when we want to."
And Willow did want to run. For the first time since being introduced to the supernatural, Willow wanted to grab Derek and Scribbles and run for the hills, Beacon Hills in the rearview mirror. But they couldn't do that. Not when so many lives were at risk. Not when so many people needed their help.
Knowing that there was nothing left for them in the woods, Derek, Willow, and Malia began heading back to the car. But then a noise that even Willow's ears could pick up on sounded.
Someone breathing.
"Someone's alive!" Willow exclaimed.
The three of them quickly spread out, trying to find the survivor. Willow spotted a blood-covered hand in the air and ran over.
"She's here!" Willow shouted, crouching by the familiar mercenary's side. "Derek, it's Braeden!"
Derek looked at Braeden with wide eyes, who was hardly conscious. Then his eyes fell on the bullet wound on her side.
"She's been shot," he said.
"We have to get her to the hospital," Willow instructed.
Derek quickly picked Braeden up and they ran back to the car. But instead of getting in, Malia put a hand on Willow's shoulder, stopping her.
"I'm gonna go warn Stiles and Scott about this poison," Malia told her.
"Okay. That's smart," Willow replied. "But text me when you get to the house so that I know you're safe."
☽︎
Willow shoved open the door to the emergency room, and all chatter inside ceased as Derek stormed in with a bleeding-out Braeden in his arms.
"She's been shot!" Derek yelled, his eyes falling on Melissa. "I think she's dying."
No one wasted any time, getting Braeden on a gurney and rushing her into emergency surgery. Willow and Derek were left anxiously waiting for any kind of news. They both perked up when Melissa came over to them about an hour after they arrived.
"Is she okay?" Willow asked, practically coming out of her seat.
"They're still working on her," Melissa said. "That's not what I'm here for. Scott's on his way to pick you up and take you home, Willow."
"What? But I'm not leaving until Braeden wakes—"
"Nuh-uh," Melissa cut her off. She crossed her arms and looked like a scolding mother. "You have the PSATs in eight hours, young lady. You're going home to get some sleep. Derek can stay, and we'll keep him updated on her progress. As soon as she's awake and ready to be questioned, we'll find out what happened."
"She's right," Derek said, softly tucking a strand of hair behind Willow's ear. "Missing a day of school was hard enough for you. Missing this test is a big deal. And falling asleep during it would be just as bad."
☽︎
Deep in the sewer tunnels under Beacon Hills, Kate Argent knelt in front of a pipe spewing clean water, rinsing her face off. But when she heard the sound of boots scraping against concrete, she stood abruptly and looked just as Peter Hale came around the corner.
"I suppose you're hiding down here because it'll cover your scent, but I can smell a rat," Peter commented.
Kate raised a hand, signaling for the two Berserkers behind her to remain in place. If Peter was there, it was for a reason.
"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Peter asked her. "The surges of anger, the loss of control. You know, I used to get angry. As a kid, I would even break my own toys in little fits of rage. And then, I asked myself, why break your own toys when you can break someone else's?"
Kate rolled her eyes, already annoyed by his dramatics. "Stop pitching and tell me what you want."
"Obviously, we're in a position of mutually-assured destruction—"
"Oh, I'm not so sure the scales are that balanced," Kate interrupted, a smirk on her face.
Peter eyed the Berserkers warily. "Probably true. But, I know you want to get the family back together again — the return of the Argents to their glorious power. Am I right? But, you know, you can't go back unless you can exhibit absolute and total control. I can offer control. I can teach you."
"So, you're willing to teach me in order to get what you want — which is what?" she asked.
"Obviously, I want my money back."
"That's not it," Kate said, not believing it for a minute. "Maybe part of it, but that's not all you want."
"I need the money, yes," Peter said, walking closer. "But, I'll admit, money only gets you so far. What I want is what I've always wanted." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Power."
Kate smirked at him, knowing he must have been desperate to come to her. "And let me guess — you're prepared to break a few people's toys to get it?"
"Not a few. One," he claimed. "Scott McCall's."
☽︎
Willow leaned her head against Scott's shoulder as they all lined up outside the classroom, waiting for the PSATs to begin. Stiles, Kira, and Malia were there as well, each with their calculators and pencils ready.
"Where's Lydia?" Kira asked, noticing the strawberry blonde's absence.
"She took it her Freshman year," Stiles explained. "Willow ended up getting the flu that week or she would've too."
"Does that mean I could have taken it some other time?" Malia asked, looking at Stiles accusingly.
"Malia, you studied harder for this than any of us," Willow told her. "You've spent every day with me for weeks in preparation."
"Doesn't mean I'm gonna do good," she grumbled.
"Well," Stiles told her.
Malia looked at him questionably. "Well, what?"
"It's 'do well,' not 'do good,'" he explained, correcting her grammar.
"Oh, God!" Malia groaned, slamming her head back against the lockers.
"Okay, okay! We're doing this because while we're trying not to die, we still need to live," Scott told her, trying to keep her calm. "If I survive high school, I'd like to go to college. A good college."
"It's only three hours," Kira stated. "We can survive three hours."
Stiles shot her a doubtful look, acting as if her words had jinxed them in some way. The five of them soon entered the room. They had to hand over their cellphones to Natalie, who was one of the test proctors. Then they had to use an ink pad and leave their thumbprint.
Willow cringed as she wiped the excess ink off on the inside of her sweatshirt sleeve. But she took her seat next to Malia and got ready for the test.
The man in charge of giving the test quickly explained to them that there'd be a reading comprehension section, a math section, and an essay section. He also snapped at Stiles for peeking at his test booklet before it officially began.
Coach was meant to be with Natalie to help monitor the test, but she couldn't find him when she went to check his office. At least, that's what Natalie told them. Really, he was passed out on his desk. But the test administrator didn't want to wait for another teacher to be found, so they began the test anyway.
Willow flew through the reading section, having no trouble. Every now and then, she'd glance out of the corner of her eye to watch Malia. It was clear the werecoyote was getting far too stressed out about the test, and it was affecting her performance. Willow wished she could say some words of encouragement but didn't want to risk Natalie or the administrator seeing her and think she was cheating.
The first reading section was almost complete when a body suddenly fell out of a desk. Everyone turned to look at a girl named Sydney with wide eyes. She had completely passed out.
"Sydney! Are you all right?" Natalie asked, rushing to her side.
Sydney came around and let Natalie help her back into her chair. "I'm okay... I just got kind of dizzy."
Natalie's eyes fell on an odd red rash that was on the inside of Sydney's wrist. "Sydney, how long have you had this?"
"I don't know," she mumbled.
Natalie walked back to the front of the classroom and grabbed her phone. The administrator looked at her questioningly. "Ms. Martin, do I need to stop the test?"
"No. Um, it's fine," she replied nervously. "Everybody stay in your seats. I'll, um, be back in a minute. Nobody leaves the room."
It was kind of hard to focus on their tests as Natalie left, clearly rattled about something. And not even two minutes later, they heard her shouting in the hallway.
"Get back! No! Do not come in here! Get back outside!"
Everyone scrambled out of their seats and rushed into the hallway to see what all the commotion was about. Natalie forced a group of boys out of the school before locking the entrance to keep others from coming in. Then she turned to see the students watching her.
"Back to your seats! Now. Please," she instructed.
Scott led Willow back into the room, but his ears picked up on Natalie's voice as she made a phone call.
"I need the number of the CDC. Yes, the Center for Disease Control."
☽︎
It didn't take long at all for things to escalate. The PSATs were forgotten as the CDC stormed the school, dressed in yellow hazmat suits. They sealed all the doors and windows and set up individual quarantine units in empty classrooms. Sydney and any other student showing symptoms were taken to those and kept away from others.
Willow had seen a lot of scary things in the past few years, but this was definitely pretty alarming. Perhaps it was because it wasn't something they could control or prevent, not when they'd already been exposed to whatever this was.
"Bet they're thinking smallpox," Stiles told the girls. Scott was off trying to get information from Natalie.
"Not likely," the test administrator spoke up. They all looked at him, waiting for him to explain. "Smallpox was eradicated worldwide in 1979. We've only managed to completely eradicate two viruses in history. The other was rinderpest — it killed cows."
"So, we should be comforted by that, right?" Stiles asked him.
"Unless it's something worse," he replied ominously.
"Whatever it is, they're taking it pretty seriously. There are a lot of cars and trucks out there," Malia noted. She could hear the crowd outside. She could also hear Stiles' father, who was quite worried about them. "Your dad's with them."
Stiles sighed and walked over to the box with all their phones. "Hey, I should probably call him."
"I'll call Derek," Willow added, joining. She didn't need to call him. She just wanted to. Talking to him might ease some of her fear.
"Don't bother," the administrator said before they could even locate their devices. "They would have shut off any access to all outside communication by now. No cell service, no WiFi, no one starting a panic. Looks like we're all just going to have to wait here and see what happens."
"That's not very comforting," Willow whispered under her breath.
☽︎
Derek sat in a chair in Braeden's hospital room, admittedly a little bored. They had succeeded in getting the bullet out of her as well as giving her a blood transfusion. But it would be a while before she woke up, and Derek could question her about what happened. Had the investigation of Kate led her to the pack in the woods?
His thinking was quickly cut off when Melissa rushed into the room. She didn't say a word to him as she injected something into Braeden's IV.
"What's that?" Derek asked, standing up.
"Naloxone. We need to wake her up," she stated in a firm voice. Clearly, something had changed.
"I thought you said she needed to rest?" he questioned, frowning.
"That was before I found out the CDC just put the high school under quarantine with Scott, Stiles, and Willow still in there."
Derek looked at her in alarm. "What—"
Braeden bolted up in bed suddenly, gasping as she woke. She looked around the room, clearly anticipating an attack. Melissa placed a hand on her shoulder to try and ground her.
"Braeden, look at me. You were shot, but you're in the hospital, and you're fine. Do you understand?" Braeden looked between Melissa and Derek before nodding. "Good. Okay, last night, you were in the woods, and you came across another pack? Do you know what happened to them?"
"I told you," Derek said, "they were poisoned—"
"No," Braeden interrupted, her voice as weak and tired as she was. "No, they were infected. It was a virus... designed to kill werewolves. It did. It killed them all."
"Just werewolves?" Derek couldn't help but ask.
"Because there's also a coyote, a Kitsune, and a Charmer in that school too," Melissa told her. "Is that gonna happen to all of them?"
"I - I don't know," Braeden said, shutting her eyes. "I don't know."
☽︎
Back at the school, the next step was for the CDC employees to get blood samples from everyone, showing symptoms or not. Stiles had wandered off to try and find Scott after he gave his sample, leaving Willow, Kira, and Malia in the line.
"Kira? Willow?" Malia suddenly asked them. She had an unnatural and slightly forced smile on her face. "Do you ever get the feeling that Scott and Stiles aren't telling you everything?"
Willow tensed up and nervously toyed with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Was this about Malia being Peter's daughter? Was she beginning to suspect? Personally, Willow wanted to tell her, thinking Malia deserved the truth. But Scott and Stiles asked her not to.
Kira didn't hide her nerves as well as Willow, looking like a deer caught in headlights at the question. "What do you mean?"
"Like they hide stuff," she said.
"I think if they did, they'd probably have a pretty good reason," Kira replied anxiously.
Malia's smile dropped and she sighed. "Do you know what they're hiding in the bag under Scott's bed?"
"What? No! I've never been under Scott's bed. Or in it. Just on it... wearing clothes."
Willow couldn't help but giggle at Kira's nervous and defensive response. She quickly turned to give her blood sample, and Willow studied Malia.
"What kind of bag?" Willow asked her. She hadn't been back to Scott's house since the night Liam was bit, so she might not be that much help.
"Like a red duffle bag. They hid it as soon as I came in the room," she explained, crossing her arms. "Stiles has never hid anything from me."
"Well, I'm not sure what could be in the bag," Willow admitted. This was the first she was hearing of it. "But I don't think they'd ever keep something from you that could put you in danger. I don't think they'd withhold something unless it was necessary."
"Fine," Malia grumbled. "You don't always have to be so—"
Whatever annoyed comment Malia was about to make was cut off when the crackling sound of electricity hit their ears. Willow and Malia turned to see the CDC employee drop the needle meant for taking Kira's blood. The Kitsune managed to shock her somehow, burning the top layer of her hazmat suit.
"Kira," Malia whispered, pulling her out of the line. "Kira, come on."
They couldn't have anyone asking questions about Kira's reaction to the needle. And once Malia's claws started to appear, they knew they needed to find Scott. This virus was affecting them all, including Scott, who wasn't able to control his shift.
The pack ended up in the locker room, and Kira's father was there as well. "It's still happening," he noted, watching as Scott's eyes flickered from brown to red.
"I can't make them go back," Malia said, showing off her claws.
"Obviously, the virus is affecting the two of you in a way it won't hit any human being," Mr. Yukimura told them.
"You guys have to stay out of sight — we have to quarantine you from the quarantine," Stiles declared.
"Yeah, but where?" Kira asked. "I mean, what if they get violent, like on a full moon?"
"We shouldn't stay in here. Not in the locker room," Scott said, worried that someone would wander in.
"Another classroom?" Willow suggested.
"A classroom's not going to hold us," Scott snapped at her, his red eyes glaring at her. Willow took a step back, her eyes wide.
"What about the basement?" Kira asked, getting Scott's attention off Willow.
"Too many ways out," he said, shaking his head. "We need something secure — somewhere nobody can find us."
"The vault," Stiles muttered, the idea coming to mind.
"The Hale vault. The Hales always have an escape route, like their house. There has to be another way in," Scott said.
Mr. Yukimura ran off to find blueprints of the school. When he came back and spread them out on Coach's desk, Stiles quickly scanned the papers, searching the floor plan.
"This is where the high school sign is, so the vault's got to be right about here," he pointed out.
"I suppose, if there's a second entrance, it would probably be accessible from the basement," Mr. Yukimura assumed.
"It's probably somewhere in this hallway — west corridor." Stiles suddenly grabbed the side of Coach's desk, a wave of dizziness hitting him. "Whoa."
"It's happening to you, too," Mr. Yukimura told him, eying him worriedly. "You're getting sick — you all are."
"I don't feel sick," Kira told him.
"I think it's affecting you differently. Neurologically," he told his daughter. "I found your test answers here in a pile with the others."
They all looked at Kira's test booklet and saw that none of her marks were inside the bubbles. Her mind had convinced her she was marking the answers in the correct places.
"So, everyone but me is sick?" Willow asked, worried about her friends.
"Don't have to rub it in," Malia muttered angrily.
"I don't think that's the case either," Mr. Yukimura said. "Scott and Malia have been snapping at you a lot. Something tells me that you're not in control of your Amokinesis abilities. Instead of giving feelings of love and affection, you're taking them away. If you don't get control over it, they could lash out and harm you out of hatred. Stiles and Kira too."
Willow looked at her friends with wide eyes. She had subtly been making them more and more annoyed with her. If she continued to get sicker, they might even hate her.
"H - how do I stop it?"
"We can't stop this without a cure. Aren't you supposed to be smart?" Scott asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
Mr. Yukimura quickly moved to stand in front of Willow, placing his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. "Your control could continue to slip, but try to focus on something else. Similar to how werewolves have anchors to stay in control. Find an anchor."
It didn't even take two seconds for Willow to find one. Of course, Derek would be hers just as she was his. Willow took a few deep breaths and shut her eyes, trying to think of Derek and how much she loved him.
Though her eyes were shut, the others watched as the glares on Scott and Malia's faces softened. Seconds ago, everything about Willow annoyed them, but now that annoyance was gone.
"I - woah," Malia muttered, holding her head. "Will, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Especially when you've been helping me study so much and—"
"It's fine," Willow interrupted. "Seriously. It was my fault. Let's just focus on finding the vault before I turn the whole school into an angry mob."
☽︎
Willow didn't do much of the searching on the hunt for another entrance to the vault. She was trying to keep her abilities in check, not wanting to make things worse. But things were getting worse.
Her head was pounding and she broke a sweat. She was getting sick, just as Kira, Malia, and Scott were.
"Hey, guys? Over here," Stiles called. With Scott's help, they moved a shelf to the side. There were lines carved in the wall that matched the triskele tattoo on Derek's back. It had to be the entrance. "Look at the cracks in the wall. It's like the entrance outside. It only opens with claws — anyone's claws, right?"
But it wasn't anyone's claws. It had to be the claws of a Hale. And Scott realized that too.
"Um, Malia, can you try?" Scott asked her, trying not to sound nervous.
"Why me?" she asked.
Scott lifted his fingers. "I don't have control..."
"Okay. I'll do it," Malia said. Then she crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. "But, first, tell me what you've been hiding from me. I know you think you're trying to protect me, but I can handle it."
Scott and Stiles shared a nervous look. This was it, they realized. Malia had gotten too suspicious. They had to tell her that she was Peter's daughter even though it was probably the worst time ever.
"I know I'm on the list!" Malia suddenly exclaimed.
Okay, so maybe they didn't have to tell her yet.
"Yes," Stiles said hesitantly.
"So, how much?" she asked.
"How much what?"
"How much am I worth?"
"Four million," Scott told her.
Stiles eyed his girlfriend warily, wondering how she'd take the news. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Malia said, shrugging. "Scott and Will are both worth twenty-five — Kira, six. They'll take you guys out way before me."
"That's progress," Stiles whispered in her defense. Willow bit her lip and looked at the ground, trying to not smile at the very 'Malia' response. "That's progress."
They all watched as Malia used her claws to open the door. It worked flawlessly, as she was, in fact, a Hale. The stone wall slid open, revealing the vault from the opposite direction. They could see the set of stairs that led up to the school sign. Unfortunately, the CDC was camped outside, so they couldn't just escape and find Deaton, hoping the Druid could help.
They were stuck in the vault for hours, slowly getting worse. Willow distanced herself from the others, not wanting them near in case her abilities slipped once more. Scott and Kira stayed near the door while Stiles held Malia in his arms. She was getting the sickest fastest.
"You know, this is where it all started. That's where the money was," Stiles said, his eyes on the safe in the corner of the vault. "One hundred and seventeen million in bearer bonds."
"How do you even change bearer bonds into cash?" Kira asked him.
"Bank, I guess," he said, shrugging. "They just let it sit here the whole time, collecting dust. You know bearer bonds are basically extinct?"
"Why does it matter?" she asked.
"You know how many problems that money could solve?"
"For you?"
"Me, my dad. The Eichen House and MRI bills are killing him," Stiles admitted.
"My mom does this thing. She writes down all the items in our budget, and how much they cost, and then she adds them all up and figures out how long we have until... we lose the house," Scott confessed.
"Then you have people like Peter," Stiles muttered bitterly. "People like Willow. They just sit on that money — could buy your house a million times over."
"S - stop," Kira told him, shaking her head. She glanced at Willow in the corner, who was facing the ground with her eyes clenched shut. It was clear she was hurt by Stiles' words, even if it wasn't his doing. "Willow - she donates to charity. She tried to pay for the MRI—"
"God, stop defending her," Scott said, scoffing. "She's a rich little princess who's never struggled — ah!"
Scott winced and clutched his head as those waves of hatred were suddenly pulled back, Stiles doing the same. They looked to Willow, who was crouched down and rocking back and forth, her hands covering her ears.
They could hear her whispering, "Derek, Derek, Derek," under her breath, trying to keep her power in check.
"Will - Will, I'm sorry," Stiles told her, horrified by his words. Willow paid their water bill and bought their groceries and always chipped in when Roscoe needed repairs or a tank of gas. "Will, I didn't mean that."
But she wouldn't stop repeating Derek's name long enough to respond, too scared that the grasp on her control would slip.
She didn't stop as Scott listened at the door, telling Stiles about how they were searching for the unaccounted five students upstairs. She didn't stop as they whispered about whether they should tell Malia about Peter being her father. She didn't stop when Stiles agreed to go back up and try to figure out what was happening.
And she didn't stop when black blood began dripping from her lips.
"Malia," Stiles called softly, wanting to say goodbye before he left. She was out of it but managed to sit up and look at him. "Malia, I gotta leave for a few, okay?"
"Where are you going?" she asked, frowning.
"Whatever's happening — it's worse for you guys. That means it's not just people getting sick. It's another assassin," he explained. When Malia grabbed his hand, he felt how freezing cold she was. "Here."
"You're coming back, right?" Malia asked as he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'd never leave you behind," he promised.
Stiles carefully kissed her forehead before getting up to leave. Malia didn't want him to go, but eventually, he had to drop her hand. Tears started to fall as he left, the girl terrified that she wouldn't be alive when he returned.
"W - Willow," Malia called, her chin wobbling. "Will, I need you."
Willow's heart ached for the girl, so much so that she got out of her corner. She moved slowly — she had to. The room was spinning as she moved, and the edges of her vision were shrouded in black shadows. But eventually, Willow made it to Malia's side.
The much taller girl curled into Willow's side, crying while Willow ran her fingers through her hair.
Thinking of her love for Derek was Willow's best anchor, but her love for Malia and her other friends was an anchor as well. She had to be there for Malia, who was so scared of being left alone again.
Another hour passed with no news from Stiles and their conditions worsening. Willow kept her eyes closed the whole time, taking slow and deep breaths. But when she heard Malia shifting in her arms, she opened them.
Her vision was blurry and it was difficult to make out the edges of things, but she watched as Malia looked down at a piece of paper she retrieved from Stiles' jacket pocket.
It was the list with her full name written on it. Malia Hale.
"Malia," Scott said, weakly getting to his feet. But he couldn't stop her from looking at the paper.
However, Malia didn't react at all to the alarming news of who her father was. She didn't react because she still didn't know.
"I can't see," Malia said, her voice shaking. "I can't see anything!"
Malia couldn't see, and it wasn't long before it happened to the others as well.
Panic crept up on Willow as her vision went out. The pounding in her head was so loud that she thought her head would explode. Black blood continued to drip from her nose and mouth as her health deteriorated.
Tears welled in her eyes as she once again began rocking back and forth.
"Derek," she whispered, burrowing her head into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I don't want him to find me like this."
"Will," Scott said, taking a deep breath. "Reel it in. Your crying is starting to get annoying."
Willow tried to calm down, letting her mind wander to anything but the situation at hand. She conjured up an image — a memory — of Derek in her mind. If she was going to die, then her last thoughts would at least be of him.
It had been a long, two weeks in Texas at a cheerleading camp — though not as long as the month-long trip that the Worthingtons took to New York at the beginning of the break. And after only just getting back together with Derek after saving Jackson and getting rid of Gerard, she hadn't been ready for that time apart. Neither had he. The alpha pouted extensively as she packed her bag to leave.
But then Willow returned, and Warren couldn't resist teasing her about Derek, who arrived nearly four hours earlier, too anxious about her arrival to wait at his loft. She simply rolled her eyes and rushed up to her room, ignoring how her father made annoying kissing sounds as she went.
When Willow peeked her head in her bedroom, it felt like her heart was melting.
Derek was stretched out across her bed, his large frame taking up most of the space while he slept soundlessly. On his chest, face curled into his neck, laid Scribbles, who was also sound asleep. Derek had a hand resting on the black cat's form, proof that they cuddled each other to sleep.
After months of hissing and growling and glaring, the two seemed to finally warm up to each other. Of course, it had to happen while Willow was away and couldn't witness it.
As Willow shuffled into the room and dropped her suitcase, Derek snapped awake. He looked and saw Willow, instantly smiling softly.
"Hey," he greeted, sitting up. It was then he realized the cat was still on his chest, who was also waking up. Derek spotted the grin adorning Willow's face as she looked from him to Scribbles. He had been caught red-handed loving the demon cat. "It's not what it looks like."
Willow giggled as he moved Scribbles off him. But then the cat trotted right back over to him, brushing up against his side. Derek instantly scratched behind his ear like it was second nature.
"You know, I recall you very dramatically insisting that petting Scribbles could be the death of you," she said, staying put by her closet.
"Well, you left me all alone with Peter and Isaac," he grumbled. "I'd rather spend time with a demon cat than them."
"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry about that," she said, smiling. "But I'm here now."
Derek got off the bed and walked up to her, instantly wrapping his hands around her hips. He dipped down to gently kiss her lips before pressing his forehead to hers. "And I'm not letting you leave ever again."
"Actually, I have another camp in Nevada that starts in two weeks. Then there's the one in Louisiana near the end of summer."
"But you just got back," he whined, rolling his eyes. "I'm finally able to kiss you again. I wasn't ready to stop for three weeks.
As if to prove his point, Derek snuck another kiss, this one much longer. Willow wound her fingers in his hair, pulling herself closer to him. His tongue brushed her lips before parting them with it, deepening the kiss. By the time he pulled away, Willow's heart was beating a mile a minute.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he brushed his nose along her cheek. "You've convinced me that maybe I can... skip the Nevada camp this year."
"And the Louisiana one?" Derek asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.
"I don't know. You might have to do a little more convincing."
Willow felt herself drifting off completely, the memory of her father and Scribbles and Derek at the forefront of her mind. Her breaths grew shallower, it feeling like a fight to take each one.
She couldn't hear what was going on around her, every sound garbled and covered by the pounding in her head. She couldn't hear Stiles screaming on the other side of the door about a cure. Nor could she hear Scott desperately trying to overcome the virus to find a jar of rare mushrooms on a shelf. She also couldn't hear when the jar crashed to the ground, breaking into hundreds of pieces and releasing the cure.
As soon as the spores of the reishi mushrooms spread throughout the room and hit Willow's lungs, she gasped, taking in as much air as possible. Her vision suddenly returned as the rest of her symptoms faded as well. Willow stayed on the ground for a moment, her forehead pressed to the cool concrete as she recovered from the virus. Her ears picked up on the sound of the heavy stone door sliding open.
"Willow," Malia said, her voice sounding closed off. Willow raised her head to look at her friend, spotting the hurt expression on her face. "Did you know?"
"Know what—" Willow cut herself off, seeing the piece of paper in Malia's hands. Her vision returned, and the first thing she saw was the Deadpool list with her name.
And Willow's reaction answered Malia's question. She knew. They all knew. They all kept it from her.
Stiles rushed over to Malia, wanting to check on her when he saw the blank expression she was sporting. He was scared that the cure didn't work on her.
"Hey, Malia?"
But as Stiles placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, she shoved it away. Malia didn't say a word as she stood and moved past him, walking out of the vault without them.
Stiles shot Willow a questioning look, who only handed him the list. He sighed heavily, looking down at it as he crumpled up the paper. All he wanted to do was keep Malia safe from Peter, but for all Stiles knew, he'd just driven her right into his arms.
"Willow," Scott called, breaking the silence. He was leaning weakly against a shelf. "I can - I can hear Derek. He's trying to find you."
Willow stood on shaky legs. Her balance was still off and she almost fell over, but Stiles helped steady her. Then she ran off, not even waiting on the others, who were still recovering. She ran out of the basement and to the entrance of the school.
It was morning — they had been trapped a whole day. Students were being released, going to greet their families who were outside. Willow searched the hallway until she spotted Derek. He was standing next to Natalie and Lydia, frantically looking for her — because they couldn't communicate, he hadn't known they were in the vault or he would've run straight there.
"Derek!" Willow shouted, moving from behind a few CDC employees that were taller than her.
Derek's head snapped in her direction and he left the Martins' sides to run to her. He didn't even care as he bumped into people, needing to get to her. He caught her easily as she rushed into his arms.
"Thank god," he breathed out, holding her tightly. Willow melted in his arms, burrowing her head into his chest. "Are you alright?"
"I am now," she said quietly, the fabric of his shirt soaking up her tears. When Willow pulled her head back, he spotted the remnants of black blood on her face. He carefully wiped it away from her skin with the sleeve of his jacket. "I thought - I thought we were gonna die."
When she began to cry harder, he pressed her face against his chest once more. "I've got you now. You're safe now."
She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist. However, she hesitated when she felt something wet on his side. Willow pulled back and moved his jacket to see blood staining his t-shirt.
"Derek! What happened?" she asked with wide eyes. Her hands hovered over the wound. "We need to go to the hospital—"
"Deaton already looked at it and took the bullet out," Derek said, trying to calm her down. But admitting that he got shot didn't help her feel calm. "It's been a long day — not nearly as long as yours though. It was an assassin at the hospital after me and Satomi. It's over now. Nothing to worry about. It'll heal slower like the scratch from Brett."
It took a few more seconds and quiet words of reassurance before Willow relaxed against Derek. "How's Braeden?"
"Better than the both of us," he admitted. "They're releasing her this afternoon."
"That's good. Can I go visit before we go home?" Willow asked.
"Of course. Let's clean you up in the bathroom first," Derek said, leading her to the restrooms. She didn't need to walk about with black bloodstains on her, especially when that wasn't a symptom the humans were experiencing.
"How soon before you think they'll let us retake the test?"
"You almost died and you're already thinking about retaking the test that could've killed you?"
"Sometimes, you act like you don't know me at all."