The next night was Scott's group date with Allison, Lydia, and Jackson. A part of me was nervous, not only for the thought of Scott ripping Allison to shreds, but just of him embarrassing himself at bowling. I know how much he likes her, so it would be a shame for him to somehow ruin that.
Eric had yet to return home. I hadn't really expected him to. When my father questioned his absence, I told him that he was out with an old friend. Not a lie, but not exactly the entire truth either. Especially since that old friend just so happens to be Derek Hale.
I could tell that he was slightly disappointed that Eric was out and not spending time with his family. I don't think he's even met Melanie yet, although I'm not sure he'll want to. The bitch never stops talking about herself or her filthy rich Congressman for a father.
I was in my bedroom, actually doing some homework for once. Harris had assigned us the task of a four page lab report by Monday. I swear that man is out to destroy our teenage lives. But it also doesn't help when your brother was one of the biggest troublemakers Beacon Hills has ever seen. It doesn't exactly put you on good starting terms with many of the teachers.
I heard a soft knock on my door. I turned down the music I had been listening to, but kept typing up my report. "Come in," I said.
My white door opened softly and I heard two pairs of footsteps enter. I looked up from my laptop to see Stiles standing with Dad. He looked nervous and frightened. He blinked a few times, averting from my gaze. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his signature red hoodie.
"Someone's here to see you," said Dad, gruffly. I was as though he couldn't decide whether to be happy that I was making friends again or angered that a random boy just showed up on our front step.
Stiles raised one hand to give a small wave. I could only hope that Dad didn't scare him too much on the walk upstairs. Even though I know he's as sweet as a bag of candy, he does appear frightening. He did used to punch people's brains out for a living.
"Hi," I said. My voice cracked causing my stomach to twist itself into a knot. I cleared my throat and looked down in embarrassment. I cursed the blood that rushed to my cheeks.
"I'll...uh...be downstairs, if you need anything," said Dad. He gave Stiles a look before taking a few steps backwards and leaving the two of us in silence.
Stiles stepped further inside, leaving the door ajar. His face was pale and his eyes were a darker brown than usual. He just looked sad, and it made me sad as well. I need him to be happy, to be the one always cracking jokes and brightening my day. That's the Stiles I somehow found myself hopelessly attracted to.
I was the first to speak. "I don't mean to be rude or anything but...what are you doing here?"
He sighed and shuffled around the room, plopping himself down on my bed. I wanted to join him, but moving felt like too much of a task at this point. To my surprise, he remained quiet. Stiles is never quiet. He always has some kind of sarcastic remark to add to the conversation.
I decided to question his behavior. "Are you alright?"
He twiddled his thumbs in his lap, looking from them to me. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to get himself to form words. I felt bad. I wished that I could just pull it out of him without him actually having to tell me. I know how hard that can be sometimes.
"Not...not exactly," he said, shaking his leg up and down. He was beginning to make me anxious. I could hear his heart beating in an irregular pattern. It worried me in more ways than one.
"Stiles," I said. "Calm down, I can hear your heart rate picking up."
He looked at me with confusion, as if I had just spoken in some foreign language. "You can hear my heartbeat?" He asked.
Then I realized why that would sound interesting. I could hear his heartbeat. He was sitting a good seven feet from me, yet I could still hear the pounding of the strongest muscle in his body. No normal person can pick up on those kinds of things. They don't have the ability to. This was the first time I've ever experienced it.
Stiles noted the shocked expression on my face. "But I thought only werewolves could hear things like that?"
"I've never been able to before," I confessed.
"Then how did you hear it?"
I didn't have an answer, and that terrified me. I'm supposed to be the one who knows everything. I'm supposed to be the one to come to when you don't know what the hell is going on in this little werewolf world. How can I be that person when I don't know what is happening with myself?
"I...I don't know," I stuttered.
Ever since they found the body of Laura Hale, I've felt...different. I've started healing faster. Those training sessions with my father, I've been hitting harder, gaining more endurance. And now I'm hearing things I'm not supposed to hear. There's only one possible explanation for this.
"Maybe," I started, looking up at him. "Maybe because the wolf that bit me is an alpha now I've gotten stronger as well."
"What do you mean?" He asked, furrowing his brow.
I inhaled. "When a wolf goes from being a beta to being an alpha they get stronger, faster, smarter. Maybe because I have some sort of connection with him, I'm inheriting more werewolf traits as well." I pondered.
"What if you turn into a full werewolf?" He questioned.
"I can't -- well at least I shouldn't be able to. I--I don't know," I said. I was befuddled by the possibility. What if I do turn into an actual werewolf? Can that even happen? "I wish my mom was here. She would know,"
I said it before I could stop myself. But it had already taken it's effect. The thought of my mother made me sad. I missed her not only because she would have all the answers, but because I need her. I need that mother figure. And it's like hell everyday going on without one.
Stiles took notice to my pained expression and walked over to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder like he had done only a week ago. His fingers found the chain of my necklace, the one my mother had left for me.
"You're still wearing it," he said, softly.
"I never take it off," I replied.
I twirled the cross in between my thumb and index finger, remembering what my mother had told me. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little faith. It made me wonder if she knew, if she knew that she was to be killed. Was it planned? There I go, questioning. But how else are you supposed to get answers?
"You never answered me," I said, my voice hoarse. He looked at me in confusion. "About why you were here,"
He sucked in a breath and began pacing my room. He stopped in front of my dresser, picking up a photo of my mother and I the year before she died. I grimaced at the glasses I used to wear. But after the accident, I had no need for them.
Never taking his eyes off the picture he said, "It's been five years, five years tonight...since...since she died."
My heart ached for him. I was one of the few who could truly understand his pain. There is no greater hurt in this world than the loss of your mother. I finally stood up from my chair and moved towards him. I gently pulled the photo from his hands and set it back down on my dresser. My skin tingled at his touch. I then did the only thing I could think to do; I hugged him.
Last time this had happened, he was the one to comfort me. Now it was my responsibility to return the favor. I could feel how hard he was trying to remain strong. I could feel his pain as our bodies connected, physically and emotionally. I didn't realize what I had done until I heard his heartbeat begin to steady.
He pulled away from me, relief on his face. "What did you just do?" He asked.
"I--I took some of your pain away." I said. He was about to question when I spoke first, sparking an idea. "I want to show you something,"
I grabbed his hand and led him to my window. Letting go, I opened the hatches, allow us to exit. I stepped out first, feeling the cool breeze of the night air. I extended my hands to him, helping him onto the roof as well. We sat, inches apart, on the shingles. We were both hugging our knees, gazing out at the starry sky above us.
"My mom used to come out here with me sometimes. She would tell me stories about all the constellations and their history. Nowadays I just sit up here by myself, wondering if she's one of those stars, if Zoe's there too." I explained. I felt him glance at me. He probably thought I was crazy. Who knows, maybe I am.
I heard him sigh. "Do you ever think about how different you would be if they were still here?"
I finally looked at him. I had never seen Stiles this glum and serious. He's supposed to be the spunk to every situation. Sarcasm is his strongest talent and without it, he's lost a part of who he is. I hate seeing him like this.
"Every day," I answered. I paused for a moment, thinking deeper into his question. "I changed after they died, and not just because of the bite. People offered their help, but I shut them out. I didn't want to be close to anyone because I realized how fast they can be taken from you. So, I even turned away my best friend,"
"Lydia," he finished for me. I nodded. "I'm sorry,"
I looked at him curiously. "For what?"
"Not trying harder,"
Stiles was one of the few people who reached out to me on a personal level after the accident. He knew what it was like, he knew how to get through it. But I didn't want help. I wanted to deal with my my mother and sister's deaths in my own way and on my own. It only took me these three years to figure out that I've been doing it all wrong.
"It was my choice," I told him. "There was nothing you could've done."
"I could've been a hell of a lot nicer to you since then," he pointed out. "It's just, the whole school had you labelled as this freak. And in order to keep myself from falling any further down the food chain, well, I'm just really sorry."
That explained why he was so quick to become my friend. He finally understood. He finally learned that social status isn't as important as the relationships you build with others. It's never what you say or do that people remember. It's how you made them feel.
"I forgive you, Stiles." I said. He smiled.
We continued to sit and gaze at the sky, letting it's dark blanket engulf us. As much as I was trying to push it away, thoughts of Mom and Zoe kept creeping into my mind. I didn't want to feel sad about it anymore, but I don't feel as though I have much of a choice.
"Sometimes I don't know which is worse," I said, pausing, "remembering or forgetting."
My statement caught Stiles off guard. His eyes found mine and I noticed that they were back to their original caramel color. I pushed a strand of hair out of my face nervously. I was wishing I hadn't even said anything. I would really be better off as a mute.
"I think, in order to move on, you need a little bit of both," he said. It felt as though I had swallowed my heart and it fell straight through to my stomach.
Stiles closed the gap between us so that our shoulders were now touching. He wrapped one arm around me in comfort. Slowly and unsure of myself, I placed my head in the crook of his neck. Instead of wincing as I'd expected, he relaxed.
A breeze rolled through, making the air bitter. Stiles pulled me even closer to him, shielding the wind. I could hear his heartbeat growing louder with every passing second. Every now and then it would skip, but still keep a steady pace.
"We're going to be okay, right?" I asked, quietly. "We're both going to be okay?"
His fingers played with the sleeve of my shirt, making my skin feel numb. "Eventually."
**
By definition, a noun is a person, place, or thing. Faith is a special kind of noun because it, unlike most other nouns, qualifies as all three.
**
I couldn't seem to remember why I was in the car, or where I was driving to, but I still kept my foot on the gas. I glanced at the clock, 11:23. I did know that Stiles had left my house a little over an hour ago. That I remember.
Some kind of instinct in the back of my head told me to turn left, so I did. The route was beginning to look familiar. I felt as though the last time I was on it I was hiding something.
My car pulled into the hospital parking lot. Oh yes, that's right. I was hiding my healing ability from my father. But why am I at the hospital now? And why am I getting out of my car, heading to the entrance?
Still, I kept walking. I didn't know where the hell I was going, but somehow I knew exactly how to get there. I took the elevator to the third floor, exiting and walking past nurses and doctors without a second look. I wanted to tell someone, but they would think I was crazy. Then again, I'm really beginning to feel as though I am.
I entered the room, free of suspicion. I walked over to the man's bedside. His face was scratched and covered in purple markings and dried blood. He kept twitching, almost as if he was having a mini seizure.
I glanced to his sheets to see three distinct tears in the white fabric. Derek had been here. The man's jerking was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable so I placed my hand on his arm. He immediately relaxed, but the sound of a flat line alarmed me. Nurses and doctors ran in, not even acknowledging my presence. One of them ran straight through me.
I took two steps backwards, watching the scene unfold. I heard the clearing of a throat behind me. I turned to see Derek standing with a shadow. I was about to reach out for it when the shadow spoke.
"Hello, Emma."
I awoke with a start, sweat plastered on my forehead. I glanced over to my alarm clock, 6:23. Well, there was no way I was getting seven more minutes of sleep after that one, so I chose to haul myself out of bed and begin getting ready for the day ahead.
☼
I found myself talking with Allison during our last period study hall. I'd hardly heard from the boys today. Stiles has been acting strange with me when we're around others. But, when we're alone, it's as if nothing's changed.
Allison seemed to catch on to my distance. She snapped her fingers in front of my nose. "Hello? Emma? Did you hear me?"
"Yeah," I said, shaking myself back into reality. "You're studying with Scott tonight, great."
Her enthusiasm faded at my remark. "Are you alright? Something's been off with you all day today."
You know, that might have something to do with the fact that last night I dreamed I caused a man to 'succumb to his wounds'. Or that the thing that caused his wounds in the first place knows my name. But maybe I'm just being over-dramatic.
"I'm fine," I lied. "Really,"
"Is it something to do with Stiles?" She asked, not buying it. Well, she sort of hit the mark with that one. Stiles and I sat on that roof for over an hour. Well, not exactly 'sat', more like...cuddled.
"I'm just tired," I said, which wasn't entirely untrue. I had laid up all night thinking about what happened with Stiles. And for the short amount of time I did find myself asleep, I was being terrorized with nightmares. It's safe to say I'm a little dreary today.
"Oh," she said. She looked down at her book for a few moments, but I could tell there was more she wanted to say. "My aunt's back in town, you should meet her!"
"Maybe sometime," I said, not entirely interested.
Allison ignored my comment. "She got in last night, my dad had to go pick her up because he said she needed a jump start. But, you know what's weird? This morning Kate told me it was a flat tire..."
The only word I picked up on in her small anecdote was Kate. Kate Argent was her aunt? Oh god, this was not good. I thought Kate had moved away for good, but now she's back? Allison's dad must've called her for assistance in hunting down The Alpha.
Which meant one thing: She's here to kill.
Allison groaned. "Emma! You're being all distance-y again. You are thinking about Stiles, aren't you?"
"Yeah," I said. It was better than telling her what I was actually thinking about. And this way I could get some of my feelings off of my chest. Because, if there's one thing I've learned, it's better to talk about it than keep it bottled up inside.
"I knew it!" she exclaimed. She was being increasingly girly by the hour. I assume things are going well for her and Scott. "You should just tell him!"
"Tell him what?"
"That you like him!" She stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Duh!"
"I don't think that's such a good idea," I protested.
"And why not?" She huffed.
"Because he likes someone else."
She knitted her eyebrows together. "Who?"
The bell to signal the end to yet another school day rang out. Lydia then strode into the library where Allison and I had study hall and began making her way towards us. Her strawberry blonde curls bounced as she walked.
"Her," I stated.
☼
I was one of the last to leave school due to the fact that my locker decided to jam itself. After getting a janitor to help me pry it open, I was finally able to collect my things and leave. I was ready to get home and crash from exhaustion.
But, of course, my association with the supernatural had other plans.
"Derek!" I exclaimed, running towards him. He had just collapsed in front of Stiles's jeep. Scott ran to join me. I helped Derek to sit up. His skin was sickly pale and he had a cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
Stiles got out of his jeep and stared at the not-so-intimidating-now Derek. Cars in the line behind him began beeping and honking their horns, just as eager to get the hell out of here as we are. Derek began gasping for breaths.
"What are you doing here?" Scott hissed.
"I was shot," huffed Derek. He clenched his teeth in pain.
"Um, he's not looking so good, dude," said Stiles. Thank you, Mr. Stilinski, I had absolutely no idea that passing out in a parking lot and acting as though you are inches away from death qualified as not looking so good. I really need a nap.
Scott's eyes searched all over Derek. "Why aren't you healing?"
"I can't," grunted Derek. "It was a different kind of bullet."
"A silver bullet?" Stiles asked enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes at him.
"No, you idiot!" Derek snapped.
"Wait, wait..." said Scott, appearing as though a light bulb had flickered in his mind. "That's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours!"
Derek's eyes widened as they found Scott. "What? Who? Who said I had 48 hours?"
"The one who shot you," whispered Scott.
Derek's eyes suddenly shot blue. He closed them, causing them to go back to their natural color. Then it happened again, and again. This was really not good, and I was beginning to get suspicious about what Derek was shot with, and by whom.
"What are you doing?" Scott asked, slightly panicking. "Stop that!"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you! I can't!" Derek hissed.
"Derek, get up," ordered Scott.
As more cars pounded on their horns, people started getting out as well to see what the hold up was. Two of them included Jackson and Allison. They were both beginning to make their way over here. It wasn't until I saw Allison I finally realized the obvious.
"Stiles, help me get him into your jeep!" Scott said.
He placed an arm underneath him, hefting him up. Derek was too weak to hardly even stand on his own. Stiles groaned but assisted Scott none the less. "I hate you for this," he said.
Once Derek was settled I turned to Scott. "Allison's aunt, Kate, she's the one who shot him. You need to bring him another bullet, the same one he was shot with." I explained.
"Why should I help him?" He asked, beginning to boil with anger.
"Because you need him, Scott." I said. He peered around my shoulder to see Derek struggling to hang on.
"Fine," he stated. "I'll try,"
I noticed Jackson and Allison getting closer. I hurried to the other side of the jeep and flung myself into the back, as usual, before Stiles hopped into the driver's seat. He put it back in drive and looked one last time at Scott.
"Get him out of here," he ordered.
"I hate you so much for this," repeated Stiles before peeling out of the parking lot.
We drove for about a mile before I finally decided to speak what was on my mind. I didn't care that Derek was in mass amounts of pain and could hardly breathe. I had a question that needed answering.
"Derek, where the hell is my brother?"
Holding onto his left arm he said, "I don't know."
"Bullshit!" I exclaimed. "I haven't seen him since I left him with you. Where is he?" I demanded.
"You really want to know?" He asked, angry and annoyed. I simply glared at him. Eric could be dead for all I know. If Derek was hit by a hunter, who's to say Eric wasn't as well. "He went looking for The Alpha."
"Woah, woah, woah!" Stiles interrupted. I'd almost forgotten that he was here too. "Why does he know about your brother and why is your brother going after The Alpha?"
I suddenly wished that no one knew anything about me. I wished that I could just hide under my big blanket of secrets forever. But that ship had sailed.
"He doesn't know?" Derek asked.
"He doesn't know what?" Stilesasked, becoming impatient and confused. Derek smirked. I glared at him, trying to send the message to keep quiet. Of course, he didn't listen.
"Her brother is a werewolf," stated Derek.
Stiles's jaw dropped. He let the news sink in for a moment before finally piecing it all together. "Your brother is in The Alpha's pack, isn't he? That's why he came back?"
"My brother asked Laura Hale for the bite, and she obliged. Her death tore him of an alpha. And now he needs a new one," I explained.
"You're brother knew Laura Hale?" He asked.
Derek smirked again. I suddenly lost all motivation to help the asshole. "So did I," I said. Stiles pulled over suddenly, causing me to lose balance in the back seat.
"Okay, I have a feeling there's a lot we don't know about you," he said.
"Got that right," said Derek.
"You know, I'm suddenly getting the urge to call Scott and tell him not to worry about finding that bullet. How about that idea?" I sassed. Derek shrugged. "My mother and Talia, Derek's mother, used to be best friends. Our families were extremely close. That's how my mom got most of her information on werewolves."
"You two know each other?" Stiles asked, surprise in his voice.
Derek and I nodded. I've never lived a day without knowing Derek Hale and the majority of his family. We were practically raised together. Eric and I would go over to their house after school and play with all of his little brothers and sisters. Losing that family after the fire was like losing a part of ourselves.
Stiles sat back in his seat, trying to take all of this in. I just wanted to go back to last night, on the rooftop. I wanted to relive that hour over and over again.
Suddenly Derek let out a howl of pain. I noticed his eyes flash blue in the rear-view mirror. We were running out of time. Although, there may be something I can do. I won't be able to heal him completely, but maybe I can buy him another hour or so.
"Derek," I said. "Let me see your arm."
He shook his head, holding it closer to his chest.
"Let me see it." I demanded with more authority.
Reluctantly he lifted his arm on top of the seat. I carefully rolled up his sleeve, revealing a small hole surrounded by purple markings. Stiles cringed at the sight. I took a deep breath.
I pressed my index finger into the bullet hole. Immediately, I screeched in pain. It felt as though every inch of my skin had been set on fire. My insides were tying themselves in knots. Lines of purple made their way up my arm, nearing my heart.
"Stop!" Derek shouted. Stiles yanked my arm away, breaking the connection with Derek's wound.
I felt light-headed. My entire body had gone numb. My thoughts were slowing, everything was slowing.
"If that reaches your heart it will kill you!" Derek exclaimed. I did notice that he had gained a slight shade of color back to his face. "And how the hell did you just do that?"
Stiles was still holding onto my arm, fearing letting it go. "I guess you don't know each other as well as you thought, huh?"
----------------------------
Thanks so much for reading!
Hopefully this chapter made up for my slow updates. I wish I could write more often but school and softball come first. I currently have a 15 page research paper due next week. I will be locking myself in my room for the time being.
I finally found time to watch the season 3a finale. HOLY FEELS STILES AND THE BAT TO THE RESCUE OHMIGOSH.
GIF to the right not mine.
Thanks again and don't forget to comment, vote, and fan!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-Alyssa
Edited 1/9/14