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TWENTY-FIVE
TRIAGE INTERNAL
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"You have to believe us."
Those were the words that Derek Hale had been greeted with upon returning to his loft. Scott McCall, Carson Bradley, and Stiles Stilinski had sent him nearly fifty text messages along with a handful of voice mails about how it was urgent that he meet up with them as quickly as possible. The older wolf had been hesitant upon leaving Cora alone at the hospital with Peter, considering her condition was uncertain and looking worse by the hour. And then there was the added fact that Cora was going to have to be moved, seeing as power outages were occurring all over Beacon County, the storm brewing outside looking to be a nasty one once it finally hit.
But three words that were left in one of the voice mails had given him enough of a reason to rush over to his abandoned loft from Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. Those three words that the teenage trio had informed Derek with?
Blake's the Darach.
Derek had been bombarded by the trio the second he slid open the large door to the loft, each teen with their own variation of panic and peril splashed across their features. Scott looked like he was in pain. Carson looked like she was about to faint. Stiles . . . Stiles's eyes kept filling up, on and off. And for good reason, too. Once Derek had managed to get them all to shut up long enough for one singular story to be told of the night's events, it became very clear what was going on. Jennifer Blake, a woman that Derek had trusted, a woman he had thought was different, was shaping up to be no better than his last ex.
For Blake was the Darach, the dark druid who had been sacrificing countless people in Beacon Hills without a single ounce of mercy. For Blake had attempted to murder Lydia Martin in cold blood tonight. For Blake was the Darach had been held off long enough to change her mind about killing the banshee, only for her to set her sights on Sheriff Stilinski, who she had abducted without leaving so much as a clue as to where she had taken him.
There was no way of avoiding the truth, not when the evidence and story presented to Derek all pointed to the same thing — Jennifer Blake was a cold hearted killer, practicing human sacrifices. The three teenagers currently in Derek's loft had opened with the words you have to believe us and although it literally pierced the Hale man's heart to do so, he knew that this was something that they wouldn't lie about.
So now, Derek was waiting in the shadows, with the others hidden from the sparse light in the main room as well. Blake's car had pulled up outside right after Derek had pulled answer out of the trio and it was clear to all four of them what she was here for — to plead her case to Derek and to make herself look to be the innocent little English teacher they all knew she wasn't. In the corner near the door, hidden far out of sight, Stiles was gritting his teeth, Scott seemed to be holding his breath, and Carson's hand was latched tightly onto Stiles's as they waited.
For the three werewolves in the room, the sound of Blake's arrival came before the sight. Her heels clicked against the floor behind the door, the stench of her perfume beginning to creep in and permeate the air. Carson could hear her breath pick up speed, a sign that Jennifer was more than likely working herself up before she let Derek lay eyes on her. The key to lying was that the truth needed to be hidden in the details, that an act had to put on for who heard the lies.
(Another key to lying was that the other person shouldn't know the truth beforehand, but unfortunately for Jennifer, the teenage trio had already beaten her to the punch.)
But the unknowing Darach, once her heart rate became erratic, flung open the door to Derek's loft, a terrified look casted over her features. From where Carson could see, she was playing the role of damsel in distress fairly well. She rushed down the two steps that opened up to the open floor of the loft.
"Derek?" she cried out, rushing to the center of the room, eyes flitting around, trying to see through the darkness. "Derek, where are you?"
Lightning struck outside, illuminating the room for a brief second as Derek stepped out from where he had been hiding. It took everything the alpha had in him not to try and rip her head off. He tried to remain cool, keeping an expressionless face on as he addressed her. "Right here."
"Thank God," Jennifer sighed as she locked eye on him, relief filling her face. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck, while the wolf wrapped his own arms around her waist. They hugged each other close, an act that made Stiles's tighten his grip on Carson's hand as they stood silent amongst the shadows. Jennifer finally pulled back, but kept one hand entwined with Derek's as she began to speak. Her voice was shaking and Carson had to give her props — the bitch knew how to act. "Something happened at the recital. At the school. Okay, I need to tell you before you hear it . . . before you hear any of it from them."
Derek feigned confusion. He furrowed his brow ever so slightly, asking, "From who?"
"Scott, Stiles, Carson," the brunette answered, tone still rather shaky. God, she was really milking her frightened oh my, I'm just an unsuspecting English teacher tone. "They're gonna tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me."
"What is it?" Derek questioned, eyes staring at her innocently.
"Promise you'll listen to me," Blake practically begged, her body shuddering as she tried to drive her lies home.
"I promise." But that was a lie. Derek knew the truth and that showed in the uptick of his heart rate, one only Scott and Carson could hear.
To the dark druid, she saw nothing but faith in the eyes of the wolf in front of her, faith that made her lunge forward slightly, placing her lips on his. She kissed him with passion, Derek grabbing her waist as she did so. But her lips began to still as she realized something. Derek wasn't kissing back — at least, not as enthusiastically as he had before. Her lips were still pressed to his as everything began to fall into place for her. Derek didn't believe her, for he already knew.
"They're already here, aren't they?" Jennifer asked as she pulled back, eyes darkening like the storm outside. A frown settled onto her lips. Derek didn't reply, only glancing over her shoulder. Blake turned around just in time to see Scott, Stiles, and Carson step out into the open from behind the wall they had been hiding behind. Jennifer took a breath, glancing down at her hands before she looked back up at Derek. "So they told you it was me? That I'm the one taking people?"
"We told him you're the one killing people," Scott snapped, emphasizing the word killing harshly as he spoke. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at her.
Blake scoffed, feigning amusement. She laughed bitterly, looking at the three teenagers like Scott had just said the stupidest thing. "Oh, that's right. Committing human sacrifices? What, cutting their throats? Yeah, I probably do it on my lunch hour. That way, I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense."
"Where's my dad?" Stiles demanded, while one of the tears that had built up in his eyes finally dripped down his face. He squeezed Carson's hand even tighter, swallowing thickly as he tried to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat.
Blake looked at him incredulously. "How should I know?"
Carson narrowed her eyes, finally managing to find the words she wanted to say to her. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you ran off with him after literally stabbing him in the shoulder with a fucking knife?"
The woman rolled her eyes, before looking pleadingly at the Hale alpha. "Derek, tell me you don't believe this."
"Well, he sure as hell doesn't believe you," Carson snapped, earning her a sneer from the dark druid. She glanced over to Derek, who had been terribly silent since that rather disgusting kiss. Narrowing her eyes, she questioned, "You don't actually believe her right, Derek?"
Derek's eyes locked with Carson's for a moment, before they briefly glanced at the tears in Stiles's eyes. He turned his head, looking down at Jennifer pointedly. "Do you know what happened to Stiles's father?"
The Darach let out a sound of disappointment. "No," she insisted.
But the three staring her down didn't buy that lie for a second. Scott's eyes narrowed as he stared at her, telling Derek, "Ask her why she almost killed Lydia."
"Lydia Martin?" Jennifer echoed, eyes wide as she stared at Scott, turning away from Derek. Carson's stare darkened by tenfold when the name of her strawberry blonde friend slipped from the mouth of the dark druid, the tone suggesting that Scott's statement was uncalled for and untruthful — which it, y'know, wasn't. They had seen Jennifer with Lydia tied down to the chair, they knew she took Stilinski. They knew. But Jennifer tried her best to play it off, continuing, "I don't know anything about that!"
Behind her, Derek was close to snapping, clearly sick and tired of her games. "What do you know?"
She whirled around on her heels, moving until her entire body was facing Derek. Staring up at him, she answered, "I know that these kids, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story." With that, she turned around to face said kids, snapping, "And one they can't prove, by the way!"
Scott didn't even flinch at her tone, instead raising up the small jar he had been holding for the past so many minutes out of sight. Jennifer thought she was getting away with things, with everything. But she hadn't counted on Scott having a plan, a way to make sure Derek saw past the lies. Like Morrell and just about everyone else in this godforsaken town, Jennifer had underestimated the wrong teen wolf.
He stared the druid down, choosing now as the moment to call her bluff. "What if we can?"
Blake seemed to freeze, eyes landing on the jar. "What is that?"
Scott began walking forward, slowly opening the jar that he had procured from Deaton. "My boss told me it's a poison and a cure. Which means you can use it and it can be used against you."
Just as Scott paused in step, pulling the top off with ease, Jennifer seemed to catch on. With a sneer and a menacing tone to her voice, she questioned, "Mistletoe?"
Carson smirked, eyes still narrowed. "We have a winner."
Before Jennifer could even stop him, yell out, or make a run for it, Scott swung his arm out, the mistletoe flying out of the jar within seconds. The dust cascaded through the air until it reached where she was standing. And then, as if in slow motion, she began changing. Under the cloud of mistletoe dust, Jennifer began crying out in a way that didn't seem human at all as her body began morphing. Her body seemed to try and fight it, but the proof was right there in front of their faces. Jennifer's body flipped back and forth between the appearance she paraded around the town in and the one she sacrificed people in. Her face and body — her true face and body, to be exact — were a ghostly white, scarred beyond recognition. It was the face of horror movies and nightmares. In short, the Darach's true form was almost as terrifying as her intentions.
Derek stared at her wide eyed, completely horrified with what he saw. The three teenagers merely looked on with rather blank expressions, just waiting for the next move that Blake would most undoubtedly make.
Eventually, the dust seemed to settle as they all watched on in shock. Jennifer let out gasps of air and pain, her body seeming to crack back into it's usual form. Her breathing was ragged and a storm seemed to brew behind her eyes as she tried to compose herself as best she could. With her hair still covering her face, she took one last deep breath before her eyes locked onto the loft's exit. She was planning her escape and it was only seconds before her feet began following the order from her brain.
Unfortunately for her, her plan was so transparent that the second she tried to make a run for it, Derek's hand shot out to grab for her. Her grabbed her by the neck, putting pressure on her windpipe as he prevented her from moving. Her tilted her head back as she began clawing at his hand, wheezing violently as Derek's choking grasp tightened by tenfold.
"Derek, wait wait!" Jennifer choked out as Derek's free hand, still at his side, formed their claws from human fingernails. Derek paid no mind to her as she continued to keep gasping. "You need me!"
Derek snarled at her, eyes narrowed as far as they could. "What are you?"
"The only person who can save your sister," Jennifer gasped, eyes squeezing shut as she tugged on the hand enclosing her neck in a near vice grip. Derek continued to glower at her. Hell, if anything, his glower deepened when she mentioned his sister. Although Cora hadn't been back in his life for more than a few weeks, it was clear to see that Derek was literally holding himself back from snapping Blake's neck for even daring to mention the youngest Hale. "Call Peter. Call him!"
Derek stared at Jennifer for what seemed like an eternity. He continued to hold her neck tightly, making sure it was impossible for her to get away — although in her defense, it wasn't for a lack of trying. Her feet had been moving, legs jerking about as she tried to pull herself away from Derek's grasp. Unfortunately for her, the alpha wasn't prepared to let up. But he seemed to take her demand into consideration, the woman clearly having hit a nerve with mentioning Cora's current condition.
With his vice grip and his steely gaze, Derek shifted his free hand's nails back into their human form, before his hand dug through his pocket for his phone. He continued to glare at Blake and the teenagers across from them waited with baited breath as the alpha fumbled with the screen of his phone. It was only seconds before Peter's contact had been selected and Derek was lifting his phone to his ear.
While Jennifer and Stiles's couldn't exactly hear what was happening on the other end of the call, both Scott and Carson were able to focus on what Derek was hearing. The phone rang a few times before there was a click on the other end and suddenly Peter Hale's voice started coming through.
"Derek?"
"Cora, how is she?" Derek demanded his uncle, not even bothering to acknowledge Peter at all.
Peter definitely caught onto that, choosing to give his nephew a snarky response. "Well, hello to you too."
"Peter," Derek snapped, his hand on Jennifer's neck tightening a little more out of annoyance.
The older man sighed, before there was some movement in the background. "It's not good. She's in and out of consciousness. She's vomiting up black blood along with one other alarming substance."
Derek's eyes darkened before he glared at Jennifer. In a voice that cut the tension in the air like a knife, he growled out, "Mistletoe."
On the other end, Peter paused for a moment before questioning, "How did you know that?"
But Peter never got the answer to his question. Derek quickly ended the call, the hand with the phone coming down to his side as he focused on the throat of the woman he had clutched in the other hand. Anger pooled in all of his features, storm clouds raging behind his eyes, and Carson swore she had never seen such violent fury on Derek Hale's face. It was only seconds before Derek's fingers began flexing inward, ultimately compressing down on Blake's windpipe. The affect was almost instant, the woman's eyes going wide as she began struggling to force air down into her now smaller trachea as Derek kept forcing down on it.
Scott was the first to react, going wide eyed at the display, looking at the older wolf wildly. "Derek. Derek, what are you doing?" Scott nearly shouted. It was no secret that Scott was as angered with Jennifer's deception and that he would do anything to protect the people of Beacon Hills, to protect Stiles's dad. But it was also no secret that Scott was not a supporter of murder. It went against everything in the boy's DNA.
Derek paid no attention to Scott. His grip on Blake's neck only seemed to grow tighter. Jennifer struggled, hands flailing as she tried to escape the Hale man's grasp. But it was to no avail, leaving Derek to only continue tightening his hand around her throat.
Jennifer was gasping horrendously at this point. Derek's tight hand on her neck had resulted in respiratory stridor, leaving the woman to wheeze and crow has her trachea continued to constrict due to the outside force. She was still able to choke words out, gasping out, "Her life — it's in my hands!"
Clearly, Jennifer had assumed that bringing up Derek's darling younger sister would get the man to snap out of it and drop her on the ground or even loosen his grip slightly. She was wrong. Carson was watching with wide eyes and baited breath, wondering how long Derek could keep this up before he actually ended Jennifer's life. If Carson knew anything about the respiratory system (which she didn't, really, but let's pretend she did), she knew that there was only going to be so much time before her lungs would run out of enough oxygen to exchange with her blood and do that whole gas exchange jazz. She'd run out of air to supply to her heart, her brain, basically any part of her body. Derek would ultimately suffocate her to death if he didn't let go soon.
Stiles seemed to realize this too, as he stepped forward, eyes stricken with tears and fear. His words are somewhat choked and Carson can tell it's taking everything in him to not break down. Or kick Derek in the balls. Carson wasn't sure which would come first. "Stop. Derek, stop!
Derek didn't let up. Blake was panicking at this point, immense terror filling her eyes. Carson could smell it on her. She kept gasping, like her heads continually being pushed underwater, like someone was trying to drown her. Her words were her life preserver and she's trying her hardest to hold onto them. "Stilinski," she wheezed out to Derek and the others. "You'll never find him."
At that, Scott cried out, "Derek. Derek!"
But it wasn't getting his attention. Nothing was getting his attention. The Hale wolf was merely focused on the task at hand, at the windpipe he had captured between his hand. He was focused on the bones of his fingers, the strength of his muscles and his grip. He was focused on the weakening pump of blood under his grip as he blocked her arteries more and more by the second. He was focused on the heave of Jennifer's chest as she tried to fight against the looming threat of suffocation. He was focusing on his anger, his pain, his sister, every lie Blake must have told him.
But mostly, Derek Hale was focusing on what he knew best: revenge.
Unfortunately, as much as Carson would have deeply enjoyed to watch Derek choke a bitch out, she knew that they needed Blake, now more than ever. Sheriff Stilinski was out there, somewhere, and they'd never find him without her. And with Cora . . . well, if Blake said that the young Hale's life was in her hands, Carson wasn't going to call her bluff on that. No one was allowed to die tonight, even if the goddamn Darach deserved it more than anyone.
So Carson stepped forward, shouting out, "Derek let her go, now! Think of Stiles's dad, for Christ's sake!" She squeezed Stiles's hand as she said this. She didn't dare look back at him, though, too afraid the broken look on his face would melt some of the anger she was using to knock sense into Derek. When Derek didn't let up, neither did she. "Derek, I swear to fucking God, I will kick the shit out of you."
Finally, as if her threat was the only thing to have reached his ears all night, Derek paused in his movements, his head turning towards the trio of teens. He locked eyes with Carson, and much like the night he had thrown her and Isaac out, Derek could see the pure fury swirling in her eyes. The storm clouds had gathered once again in her gaze, the small girl easily morphing into a storm before him. His gaze hardened and Carson gave him a single, concise nod.
And so, with the normal level of dramatic that Derek Hale tended to encompass (seriously, with all those flips and leaps he does in battle, the dude clearly had an eye for theatrics), he dropped Blake to the floor. She hit the floor with what sounds like a rather painful thud and she seems to collapse in on herself for a moment. Her dark hair covered her face, but it became rather easy to guess what sort of facial expression she had plastered across her features.
Because Jennifer Blake was no longer gasping for breath, she wasn't sucking in gulps of air like someone who just got choked should be. No, instead, something darker happened and because of it, Carson's grip on the hand of her ex-boyfriend tightened harder than it has all night. Because the second Jennifer was out of Derek's grasp, the entire mood of the room shifted. The fear that had been pouring off her ceased to exist. The gasps and the wheezes vanished, until the room was left to hear a wicked laugh.
Jennifer Blake looked up the four other people in the room, smirking madly at them through the tendrils of her dark hair as they attempted to fall back into place on their own. She was grinning like a mad woman, eyes darkened with rage.
And in a voice that chilled every last one of them to the bone, she finally spoke. "That's right. You need me. All of you."
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"I know that we normally have terrible ideas, but I can't be the only one who thinks this one takes the cake."
The jeep barreled down the back roads of Beacon Hills, headed for Beacon Hills Memorial. Three teenagers, two werewolves and the other a human, were safely ensconced inside the warmth of the cab, away from the torrential downpour that had taken their town by storm. Stiles's grip on the wheel was tight as he glared at the road before him. Beside him sat Scott, who pretty much looked like he was trying to mentally walk himself through calming deep breathing. And in the back, in her usual seat, was Carson who sat with her hands resting on the headrests of the two seats in front of her, pushing herself slightly between her two favorite boys. It was a sight that paralleled so many of their nights last spring, but somehow this time it felt like they were playing for much higher stakes. They were currently betting on the mercy of the Darach, which was the aforementioned bad idea that Carson had just posed.
Scott barely spared her a second glance as he said, "I don't think we have much of a choice this time. She knows where Stiles's dad is, she knows how to make Cora better. She backed us into a corner."
Up ahead, further down the rain slick roads, was Derek's car which contained it's owner as well as the she Scott was referring to. Jennifer Blake, their English teacher slash mass murderer. A sacrificing druid with a whole bucket of blood on her hands, was the person that they were trusting. Sure, Scott wasn't wrong and Carson knew that, truly she did — without the Darach, their chances of finding Papa Stilinski and fixing whatever was wrong with Cora would be nearly impossible. But that definitely didn't stop the sixteen year old brunette from recognizing an uneasy situation when she saw one. She may have been oblivious when it came to things like crushes and feelings and shit like that, but not when it came to things like this. Things like this were life and death, there was no time for Oblivious Carson to make a fucking return appearance.
"This is still a bad idea," Carson mumbled. She placed her hands in her lap, sitting back as she fiddled with her fingers. "I mean, are we actually about to trust the woman who's responsible for killing, like, well over five people? And we're taking her outside?"
Scott sighed. "It'll be fine, we'll just keep an eye on her. We need to focus on getting Cora out of the hospital and then we need to deal with finding Stiles's dad. We can't do either of those things without her. Right now, we just need to get in, get Cora, and get out. I mean, she has to be scrambling a bit right now, right? I don't think she expected us to tell Derek or prove to him what she really was. That has to blindside her long enough for us to do this without any problems, right?"
From the driver's seat, Stiles sighed. And then, for the first time since they all piled into the jeep and sped away from Derek's loft, he spoke. He glanced over at Scott and then back at Carson briefly before he settled his gaze back on the road. His breath came out rather shaky and Carson could tell that he was still trying to piece everything together, that he was still trying to understand all motives involved. "I don't know, something feels wrong about this. You know, we proved it to Derek, but she still had this look like it didn't matter. You know, like it was all still going according to plan. You saw it, didn't you?"
Scott fell silent, looking lost in thought. But Carson . . . Carson knew exactly what Stiles was referring to. In that moment where Jennifer looked up at all them through her hair, with her madwoman grin and her cackle, Carson had felt it. The power change. For one brief moment, the trio had been on top. They had exposed the Darach, had shown Derek for what she truly was. But the moment that they asked, no begged Derek to have mercy on her, they went right back to being the pawns of the game. She had seen the way that Blake's eyes had darkened, pure malice twinkling within them. It was like looking into the eyes of the devil, into eyes of pure evil. Stiles wasn't wrong. Maybe, to Jennifer, being found out wasn't the end all be all. Perhaps it was just a minor flaw in her overall plan. Perhaps everyone knowing meant nothing to her.
That was something that was terrifying to assume.
"Look," Carson muttered to the both of them as Beacon Hills Memorial comes into view. Up ahead, she could see Derek whipping into the parking lot and her eyes briefly caught the sight of Blake sitting in the passengers seat. Her frown deepens. She glanced back at Scott and Stiles once more before continuing. "I'll admit that Stiles isn't wrong. Blake thinks she has something hanging over our heads and whatever it is, she probably does have it hanging over our heads. Maybe we're literally following the detailed itinerary of her fucked up fun time, alright? But that doesn't matter — "
Scott sighed, cutting her off. "But — "
Carson didn't let him finish, eyes narrowing at the boy. "No buts, McCall. We can't let it matter, not when there are lives on the line. Whatever sort of upper hand she thinks she has, we can't let that take over, alright? We have to be on our A-game and we can't let things like this get in the way. We have to get into the hospital, get Cora, and get the fuck out so we have more time to get Stiles's dad back. I swear to fucking God, we're not losing to some wannabe English teacher who really looks like the melted face guy from Raiders, alright? I swear to God, we're not."
It was silent for a moment, as Stiles turned the wheel sharply to turn into the parking lot of the hospital. Carson waited with baited breath, wondering what sort of reaction she'd get out of either of her boys. And then, with a sigh of annoyance, Stiles glanced briefly over his shoulder at her. "The fact that you'll willingly watch Raiders but not Star Wars still deeply unsettles me."
Briefly, Carson gave him a withering smile. She shrugged. "They both have Harrison Ford kicking ass, it's close enough."
Stiles groaned. "No, it really, really isn't."
He doesn't give the girl any time to reply, slamming on his brakes to haphazardly park near Derek's car. Carson pretty much flew forward at the jolt of his sudden stop, but unlike in her human days, she managed to catch herself by grabbing the two seats in front of her before she could hit them or be yanked back. Well, if being a werewolf was good for something, it was the faster reflexes, she supposed.
The windshield wipers cut off as Stiles yanked the keys out of the ignition, leaving sheets of rain to batter down the windshield, no longer disrupted by the blades. For a brief moment, Carson noticed how horrendous this storm was shaping up to be. She hadn't seen a rainstorm like this in weeks, although she was certain that this one definitely had the rain shower the night she was thrown out of the loft beat. The storm was brewing and Carson couldn't help but muse over the fact that a literal and a figurative storm was plaguing Beacon Hills. One that was filled with wet, cold, and wind that could bring down trees and power lines and flood roads. The other, one of supernatural tendencies, a final showdown of sorts in this goddamn chess game that they had been playing with both Deucalion's pack and Blake . . . oh this was bound to be terrible.
She got broken from her thoughts, however, to the sight of Scott and Stiles quickly piling out of the jeep. She follows suit, nimbly climbing over the passenger seat that Scott pushed forward for her. Beside them, Derek practically fell out of his car, before slamming the door shut and sprinting to the other side to yank Jennifer out by her arm. She sneered at him, clearly not welcome to the idea that she was being treated like the enemy and definitely not okay with the fact that they were treating her like a prisoner. Through the rain that was belting down on them and soaking them all to the bone, Carson could only smirk.
A smirk that fell once Scott closed the door. For Stiles came clambering around the front of the jeep, clutching an object tightly to him: a wooden baseball bat. Both Scott and Carson shared a look of confusion over the Stilinski boy's item, before turning back to him. The three begin hurrying after Derek and Blake, moving past the flickering bright red sign that read EMERGENCY.
Carson wiped some of the rain off her face as they neared the emergency entrance, although it was to no avail as more droplets just came down in replacement. Looking at Stiles again, she shouted, "What the fuck?
Scott nodded, adding in loudly, "What's that?"
Stiles gave them a look like they were insane. "Well, you two got claws. I got a bat," he said, while brandishing the smooth, yet rain soaked wood.
Carson groaned. "Okay, you want a weapon. Cool, alright, that's just dandy," she mutters as they make it under the overhang, the rain no longer falling on them. Although it doesn't really matter, considering she's fucking soaked and shivering now. She continued on though, rolling her eyes. "Here's one problem though, that thing isn't going to last you like half a minute, dude. I mean, you couldn't have at least grabbed a metal one? Literally, I could snap that thing in half and use it to stake someone like I was Buffy fucking Summers."
Scott moved up ahead of them, trailing closely behind Derek and Jennifer as they entered the hospital. Carson and Stiles kept up, though they continued their little bout of banter. Stiles frowned at her. "I didn't exactly have the time to stop at the sports store, Carson."
Again, she groaned. She patted him twice on the back, shaking her head as she told him, "Next time we're at my house, remind me to give you my metal bat. Don't exactly need it anymore since I'm rocking supernatural razor blades for nails now, I guess."
Stiles scoffed, but Carson could tell he was amused by her. But the moment passed as soon as they began pushing past doctors and nurses all hurrying around to get everyone situated and out of the facility. There movements were frantic, but the group pushing past them to head deeper into the building didn't seem to take too much notice. Derek led the charge, dragging a rather annoyed Jennifer behind him. He was the one who knew where Cora's room was located and so the three teenagers hurriedly trailing behind him didn't argue with him pushing his way to the front.
Just as they turned the corner, barely even a few feet down it, a voice called out from behind them.
"Scott!" the voice called, all too familiar to the group. Four of them whirled around on instinct, the fifth behind whipped around against her own choice. Either way, five sets of eyes fell upon Melissa McCall, who was rushing up to them, donned in scrubs with concern and confusion in her eyes. She reached them as they halted, Scott pushing past his two best friends to meet his mother in the middle. Melissa gave him another confused look, before she said, "Scott! What are you doing here? The hospital's evacuating."
"We're here for Cora," Scott said quickly, gesturing to the group behind him. Carson was sure that they must have looked like quite the bunch to Melissa. Her werewolf son, a scowling alpha, her son's English teacher who was secretly a dark druid, a teenager ready to bludgeon said dark druid with his newly acquired bat, and a final werewolf who was wearing an expression that nearly mirrored the last one with the exception that she'd be doing the bludgeoning with her fists, not a bat. However, all this did was cause the concern on Melissa's face to practically triple.
"What, all of you?" she questioned, giving Scott a look. And then, while surveying the others and taking notice of her son's friend, she questioned, "Why does Stiles have my bat?"
Carson's head whipped over slightly to face Stiles and she gave him a look. Mumbling to him, she asked, "When the hell did you find time to grab her bat?"
Stiles rolled his eyes, whispering back, "Look, I just borrowed it the last time I was over there, alright?"
Carson gave him another look, this one showing how unconvinced she was. She narrowed her eyes in question, before a look of realization flashed across her features. She whispered, "Did you break in and take it?"
Stiles faltered for a moment, before whispering back, "Uh, no."
Carson groaned. "Oh my God, you broke in and took it."
Stiles glared at her, but he was cut off as Scott began speaking to his mother again. His eyes were filled with more concern than Melissa's, if that was even remotely possible. "Mom, just trust me on this. You need to get out of here. Right now."
Melissa paused briefly, clearly noticing the urgency in her son's voice, as well as the expressions of his current companions. She looked around, making sure none of her fellow nurses or any of the doctors nearby could hear her next words. She stepped forward, whispering a low tone as she stared at her son. "The building is supposed to be clear in thirty minutes. We've got two ambulances that are coming back. One's ten minutes out, the other's twenty. Cora needs to be on one of those. They'll be picking up in the basement garage."
The corner of Carson's mouth twitched up into a momentary smile. As per usual, Mama McCall was coming through and saving their collective asses. Scott was nodding frantically at him mom, trying to give her a look that would come across as reassuring. Carson wasn't really sure the expression he was wearing was cutting it, though. To be honest, Scott currently resembled a deer in the headlights, but she wasn't too concerned about it. When it came time for him to lose the minor fear that was undoubtedly running throughout all of them (save for Jennifer, the murdering snake), he'd be the first to step up and being courageous. That was the iconic Scott McCall thing to do.
"Got it," Scott breathed out to his mom, giving her one last nod before turning back to his rag tag group. He nodded at them, too, and in an instant they were off. They vanished down the corner, Scott turning back for a brief second to spare his mom one last glance before he set his sights ahead of him, shifting into his serious, do good mode.
Within seconds, Derek was slamming his hands down on the up button on the wall outside the elevator, trying to call the contraption to come and get them. Considering no one was really utilizing the elevators at the current time, given that most patients were being carted out of the hospital at that very moment, it only took mere moments for it to reach the floor they were on and open up. The five piled in, the three teens stationed in the back with Derek and the druid bitch centered at the front. A button was pushed amidst the rows of floor numbers and then the doors were closing and they were making their ascent. Derek's grip, if anything, tightened around Jennifer's arm.
She took notice immediately, sighing at the man grabbing her. Not even bothering to glance up at him, she kept her eyes set on the doors as she spoke to him in a drawling voice. "Okay. You don't have to keep me on a leash, Derek. I'm going to help."
Derek didn't reply. Carson snorted. Stiles wrapped his hands tighter around his bat. Scott continued to glare at the back of her head. Jennifer took in the stony silence, moving her head to the left a bit. She took in the sight of Scott first, situated in the back left corner, glowering at her like he was being paid to do so. Jennifer, furrowing her brow, then turned her head in the opposite direction, craning her head backwards ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of Stiles, who was moving his bat oh so subtly, as if to say yes, I will actually fucking hit you with this, repeatedly, so don't try me. And lastly, she moved her eyes to face the back right corner where Carson stood, arms crossed, flicking her wrist. On one hand, she began to brandish her claws, the nails having grown and sharpened with the flourish of her wrist.
She grinned wickedly at Jennifer, before posing a question to the group around her. "Anyone know if she has a mute button?"
The Darach pursed her lips in anger, but ultimately turned to face front without saying anything in reply to her former student. She sighed, putting her head back slightly as she clenched her eyes shut in annoyance, before opening them again just as the elevator let of a ding!
Once the doors opened, Derek was the first out, once again leading the charge. He and Jennifer were barely out three feet, with the trio behind him crossing the threshold just slightly when the large fluorescent lights above them flickered once, twice, three times before remaining steadily on. Carson grimaced as they ventured forward, eyes glancing up at the lights.
"Nothing screams horror movie bloodbath than being in a nearly empty hospital with flickering lights," she muttered, mostly to herself, as Derek began slowing down near a room.
He stopped, head turned to look in the room and his face suddenly filled with confusion. Derek yanked Jennifer, who had continued forth a few inches, back as he continued to eye the empty hospital bed. Scott, Stiles, and Carson brought up the rear of the group, all halting to gaze at what Derek was eyeing. An empty hospital room, abandoned IV racks and monitors, an hospital bed . . . and a puddle of black blood, topped off with beads of mistletoe.
Yeah, this was definitely Cora's room, which ultimately begged one question and one question only. Where in the actual hell was Cora, or even Peter for that matter? While three sets of eyes continued to ponder that question while looking at the room and another set just looking broodingly off into the distance, the last of the group seemed to catch onto another clue.
Scott had been the first one to glance away from the empty hospital bed, his eyes following a smaller trail of black blood from the puddle. It led out into the hallway and down towards a set of double doors that were closed. A set of double doors that housed some rather rambunctious noises behind it. He stared at them in confusion for the briefest of seconds, before he directed the eldest werewolf's attention to it. "Derek," Scott mumbled, nodding his head at the floor when everyone turned to look at him.
Five sets of eyes stared directly at the set of double doors, brows furrowing in confusion as the sounds behind them intensified. There were clangs and bangs and growls all around. Carson, ever the articulate sixteen year old, was about to ask what in the actual fuck was going on back there, before the doors burst open. The second they did, a rather large figure shot across the floor towards the group on their back, skidding to a stop just at the group's feet.
"We got a problem," the figure told them, causing them all to look down to see who it was. Peter Hale, looking as if he had just received the ass kicking of his life, glanced up wearily at his nephew and the people with him. And then, lifting himself up enough so that his head could glance down the length of the long hallway at where he had just come from, he added, "Big problem."
It was then that group looked to see who exactly had pretty much thrown Peter down the hall. Carson could feel her stomach drop. Stiles gulped. Scott's eyes widened ever so slightly. Derek looked like he wanted to throw himself into traffic and get hit by seven eighteen-wheeler's. Carson briefly wondered if he'd let her join. Because at the end of that hallway was the one thing that no one wanted to see tonight while they were dealing with Jennifer and her fucking nonsense: members of the alpha pack.
More specifically, Aiden and Ethan. Merged quite nicely into their horrendously ugly and horribly terrifying Voltron wolf, eyes alight with malice. Again, Carson gulped. And then, to quote one of her favorite eighties movies, she swore under her breath.
"Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw."
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author's note: Okay, so this update took me a lot longer than I expected. I started this pretty soon after the last chapter I wrote, but school started up and I hadn't really found any free time, whoops.
So just a heads up (and this goes for every story posted on my account, not just this one), please try not to badger me relentlessly for updates. I absolutely love that you guys are excited about my work and I am too, but writing is not my priority in the slightest. I'm a sophomore in college in a nursing program, which means my time is highly devoted to studying, homework, and then the clinical rotations that I do at the hospital I'm assigned to. I love writing dearly and I'm by no means stepping away from that, but healthcare and nursing is what I want to do with the rest of my life so I tend to put that at the front of my priority list.
HOWEVER, I am on winter break right now, which means that I am going to have time to update some stories (both on this account and my twilight fanfics on hypnotical), so hopefully I can pump out some more stories before I go back in the spring.