( XIV. IN A HEARTBEAT )
TO SAY THAT STILES STILINSKI WAS GOING THROUGH IT would be an understatement. The boy was lacking sleep— and more importantly, patience. Right now? He couldn't breathe. Scott had dragged him out of class to the locker rooms to calm him down, to bring him out of this dull haze that covered his sight and mind.
"Stiles? Look at me, man. Is this a panic attack?" Scott's voice echoed in his head. Stiles wanted to respond, he knew the answer. Yes, I feel like I'm dying— he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't roll of his tongue.
"I need —" Stiles gasped, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't even recognize himself anymore.
"What is it? What do you need?"
"I need—" Stiles tried to breathe, a specific voice in his head reminding him to. "I need Amelie. Get Amelie."
🥰
Meanwhile, Amelie sat in her art class with Allison. The last time she was here, she was having a traumatic moment ( that surprisingly reminded her of Lydia and that time they made her try automatic writing ). She was drawing the man in her nightmares, the man who roamed the hallways of the hospital to this day.
Dabbing into the dark grey color she was about to use to shade, the door abruptly swung open— revealing Scott who called out for her in the middle of class.
"Amelie," He called out. "It's Stiles."
That made her world slow down. Just this morning, he was in her bed, sound asleep. They woke up together, drank coffee and head out the door. She drove them to school— she drove Roscoe. She still didn't believe Stiles let her, he loved that car more than he loved anything else. All was well, until now.
Without a second thought, she dropped her brush and ran out the door, following Scott to the boys' locker room. Stiles was still leaning on the marble sink, rambling to himself. "It's a dream, it's a dream, it's just a dream..."
"Stiles," She rushed to him, grabbing his face. "Hey, this is real. You're here. You're here with us."
Stiles was dying for a breath. He just kept shaking his head like he didn't believe her. "Okay, how do you— how do you tell if you're awake or dreaming?"
"Your fingers," Stiles said through his ragged breath. "You count your fingers, you have extra— extra fingers in dreams."
"Okay, then," She raised both hands in front of her, turning to Scott for a moment, who looked just as panicked. "Count with me— Hey!" He turned around to face the girl, leaning his entire weight on the sink.
"Stiles, how many do I have?" Amelie persisted, holding out both of her hands in front of him. Shakily, he began to count as she lifted each finger on his command until they reached the number ten.
"Ten fingers," Amelie whispered. "Ten."
Sighing in defeat, Stiles dropped to the ground, leaning on the wall. Scott slowly approached him, Amelie stepping behind him. "What the hell is happening to me?" Stiles whispered helplessly.
"We'll figure it out. You're going to be okay," Scott reassured the boy. "Am I? Are you?" Stiles retorted. "Scott, you can't transform— Allison's being haunted by her dead aunt... And I'm straight up losing my mind."
"We can't do this. We can't—we can't help Malia. We can't help anyone," Stiles sighed, and a part of Amelie broke. She had never seen the boy so helpless before.
"We can try. We can always try."
Standing up, the Alpha turned around abruptly. "I need to go," He whispered. "Amelie, stay with him, please."
"Of course," She nodded. Kneeling down, she sat in front of Stiles, who had his face in his hands. As soon as Scott was out of the room, she grabbed Stiles' hand away from his face.
"Stiles."
"No."
"Stiles, look at me," She insisted. Slowly, he brought his brown eyes to meet hers. "We're going to find a way out of this, I promise."
"What if I can't, Ams?" He whispered. "You heard Kira the other day. The last progressive stage is death. I could literally die because of this."
"Don't let her words get into your head," She furrowed her brows. "Stiles, you know if it ever came down to it, I'd bring you back. You know that, right?"
"Amelie—"
"Even if it meant I'd die," She nodded firmly. "I'd do it. I'd bring you back in a heartbeat."
Amelie couldn't put the look Stiles gave her into words even if she tried, so instead she just smiled softly as he put his hands on top of hers. "Thanks," he muttered.
🥰
To her surprise, this wasn't the last event of her day. After Stiles and Amelie stepped out of the locker room, they were shocked to find out that a coyote — Malia — had sneaked into their school, and almost killed Kira while doing so. To her luck, Scott was there to save her. Now, they were in the locker room where the incident occurred. Amelie sat next to Scott as she watched him listen in on a conversation between Mr Yukimura and his daughter, Kira.
"She was just trying to make friends," Scott muttered, making Amelie purse her lips. The brunette felt for the new girl, she knew how hard it was to make friends. If it wasn't for that day Isaac went missing, Amelie wouldn't have mustered up the courage to go up to Scott and Stiles and introduce herself. She would've still been a nobody.
"Scott," Stiles called out as he approached the two. "I think I know what she was looking for." He held out a disturbing baby doll.
"That's totally not weird," Amelie murmured, narrowing her eyes on the doll in Stiles' hand. "You took the doll from the car?!" Scott exasperated.
"Yeah, I thought you could use it! You know, for, like, her scent—"
"Where did you get that?" A man approached the trio, his eyes wide on the doll. "Where did you find this? It belonged to my daughter." Mr Tate.
"Sorry..." Stiles trailed off. Sheriff Stilinski hurriedly entered the locker room, stepping protectively between Mr Tate and his son.
"Mr. Tate, I don't know how you heard about this, if you have your own police scanner or what, but you can't be here." Stilinski warned, pressing a hand on Henry Tate's jacket, only to pause. Slowly, he revealed the gun hiding beneath it.
"I have a permit," Tate defended.
"California schools are gun-free zones, permit or no permit. You need to leave, Mr. Tate. Now." Stilinski said, pointing at the door.
"You find that animal! You find that thing!"
🥰
"Xylazine. It's a tranquilizer for horses," Deaton explained, bringing a box with him to the table. "For a Werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds."
"I only have three. So, whoever's shooting needs to be a damn good shot," Deaton said warily. Nodding confidently, Amelie looked between the four men around her, "Allison's a perfect shot."
"She used to be."
"She can do it," Scott replied insistently. "If we manage to find the thing," Isaac shrugged.
"Okay, what is the point of him?" Stiles interjected, pointing at the beta across from him. "Seriously, I mean, what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity and the scarf?"
"What's up with the scarf, anyway? It's sixty-five degrees out!"
"Look, maybe I'm asking a question no one here wants to ask— how do we turn a coyote back into a girl when she hasn't been a girl in eight years?"
"I can do it," Scott said unsurely.
"You can?" Amelie raised her brows, looking the boy up and down unsurely.
"You remember the night that Peter trapped us in the school?" Scott turned to Stiles who nodded. "In the gym, he was able to make me turn using just his voice. Deucalion did the same thing in the distillery."
"This is a Werecoyote, Scott," Deaton clarified. "Who knows if it'll even work? If you can find someone who can teach you?"
"That's why you called Derek first."
"Yeah, I could try it on my own," The Alpha sighed. "But, right now, I'm too scared to even change into just a Werewolf."
"We need a real Alpha," Stiles muttered and received an offended look from his best friend. "You know what I mean! An Alpha who can do Alpha things. You know, an Alpha who can get it going! You know, get it—"
"Up?"
"Great," Scott sighed bitterly. "I'm an Alpha with... performance issues."
"Is there anyone else besides Derek who could help?" Amelie asked. "I wouldn't trust Peter..." Isaac replied warily.
"Maybe the twins?" Amelie suggested.
"They're not Alphas anymore. After what Jennifer did, almost killing them? It broke that part of them."
"Yeah, but what if they know how to do it?" Stiles asked. "Nobody's seen them for weeks," Scott shrugged.
"Actually," Amelie grimaced, "that's not totally true."
🥰
After hours of watching Scott being beat up into a pulp, and failing to see him roar like a true Alpha, they all headed to the preserve, where they would finally rescue Malia— once and for all.
"Anyone else think we night be doing more harm than good?" Lydia asked, as soon as she got out of Allison's car.
"We're trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter," Scott said firmly, trying to stay optimistic.
"Actually... we're trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote, who is actually his daughter... who we don't know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter..."
"You can stop talking now," Amelie groaned, receiving a 'Hey!' from her friend.
"Did you bring it?" Scott turned to Allison, who solemnly lifted up her sniper, loaded with tranquilizers. You could tell she was nervous about shooting, from all the trauma induced from the surrogate sacrifice, she had almost repeatedly murdered Lydia.
Next to Amelie, Stiles brought out his ringing phone to answer his dad. "Hey dad," Stiles started before a look shock and tiredness covered his face. "It took the doll again? What the hell is so important about this doll?"
She could hear his dad talk in a rush, trying to tell his son not to step into those woods as they were filled with several coyote traps. "It's the doll..." Stiles said quietly in realization.
"Stiles?" Amelie asked in confusion.
"It's the doll???"
Hanging up abruptly, he turned around to face Amelie, who was the only one left. Lydia and Allison had walked away a few minutes ago.
"All right, but why would it go all the way to the school and then all the way back to the house, just for a doll?" Stiles asked. "One that was in the car wreck in the first place. We didn't find it in the coyote den."
"I don't know," Amelie shrugged, leaning on Roscoe. "It likes the doll."
"It likes the doll a lot..."
"It's not like it was special kind, right?"
"I don't know... It's a doll, you know?" Stiles said. "It's got little arms, a big baby head, and dead soulless eyes..."
"Actually, I took a pic! Here." Stiles moved to Amelie's side, showing her a picture of two sisters, one holding the stupid doll.
"That's Malia?" She pointed to the older girl with a bright smile.
"Yeah," Stiles nodded. "That's the jacket and the scarf we found in the den."
"Stiles, she's not the one holding the doll," Amelie furrowed her brows, pointing to the younger sister. "That's Malia's younger sister. That's her doll."
"I know what she's doing," Stiles said loudly, grabbing Amelie's hand quickly. "What?" The girl asked.
They started walking, with Stiles excitedly saying. "I know where she's going. I need to call Scott."
Stepping in front of her, he took out his phone. "Scott? It's me. You got to call me back as soon as you can. It wasn't Malia's doll—"
Abruptly, she stopped, stepping onto a metal surface. The feeling sent cold shivers drawling down her spine as she dreaded to look at what was placed beneath her foot. Facing down, she found her right foot placed in the center of a coyote trap.
"Sti—Stiles...?"
"Yeah?"
"STILES!"
"WHAT?" He turned around, only to widen his eyes at the sight. Amelie right in the middle of a trap, and any sudden move would have her foot cut off.
"Amelie, don't move."
"Really? I was just about to dance around!"
Rolling his eyes, he knelt down next to her, absolutely oblivious on what to do. "Look for a warning label," Amelie told him.
"A warning label?" He asked confused.
"Yeah, you'll find instructions on how to disarm it," She said through ragged breaths. "Why the hell would they put instructions on the bottom of a trap?"
"I don't know, Stiles, does it look like I made this thing?!" She said hysterically.
"Uh— Ams?" Stiles called out from under her, his voice just barely covering her heavy breathing. "We got a problem."
"Huh?"
"I can't read."
Amelie's heart thrummed violently against her chest, threatening to rip her skin open and jump out. "It's fine— that's fine. You know why? Because you don't need them," the brunette said shakily.
"You are literally the smartest person I know, Stiles. Without you, we would've never figured out half of what we did. So, you don't need them. When was the last time you used instructions anyway?"
Slowly but surely, Stiles began to think. His eyes traveling all over the contraption for a few long seconds before he sighed. "Okay, I think I got it. Are you ready?"
She nodded quickly. "Here we go," Stiles said before standing up to catch the girl who jumped on his cue. He caught her in his arms as she tightly wrapped hers around his neck.
"Oh my god," She sighed in relief. "I could kiss you right now."
She could feel Stiles stiffen underneath her as she said that. Hesitantly, she raised her head to meet his eyes. "So kiss me," he said under his breath.
And so she did.
Placing her lips on top of his, she finally understood what they meant by butterflies and fireworks— but that was an understatement. Amelie felt an entire earthquake inside of her, shaking her so roughly, that her fingers began to tremble as she placed them on his jaw. Stiles hesitantly placed his arms on her back, pulling her closer— if that was even possible. She could now feel every crevice of his body, even his thumping heart beat.
Begging for a breath, she drew her lips from his, her eyes locked on his as they fluttered open. She couldn't decipher what he was feeling even if she tried forever— and she hoped that was a good thing.
"We should—" Amelie whispered, pointing with her thumb away from them.
"Yeah, okay."
But nothing would be okay after that.
author's note...!
AND THEY KISSED!!!! FINALLY!!
just so you know, when i say this will
be a slow burn, I MEAN IT.
stay tuned besties! <3