CHAPTER EIGHT:
MAGIC BULLET, PART TWO
Even though they hadn't really talked until this semester, Stiles always admired Brooke from afar. Not only was this because of his huge crush on her, but also because Stiles thought Brooke was incredibly strong.
Once she had joined the local public school after her mother and brother had died, Stiles couldn't help but be amazed at the determination on her face as she walked through the hallways, chin held high. He had been an absolute mess when his mother died, and missed school for weeks afterward. Not only had Brooke just lost her half her family, but the kids at school were picking on her too.
Brooke always enjoyed being homeschooled, but quickly began to resent the idea once the other students made fun of her for it. Still, she made it through the school day with her chin held high and her eyes never wavering. The bravery she exhibited quickly made butterflies appear in Stiles' stomach, but any chance he had with Brooke was quickly squandered when she became best friends with Lydia Martin.
Despite everything, Stiles would still watch her from afar, adoration in his eyes at her tough exterior. Ever since she threatened to punch Jackson in the fourth grade, Stiles believed Brooke to be one of the bravest people he knew.
That's why it was so alarming to him when he saw tears form in her eyes as she carried Derek into an examination room at the animal clinic.
Derek slid out of Brooke's grasp and threw his arms onto the examination table to steady himself. He haphazardly took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He laid his arm flat on the table, bullet wound clearly visible under the harsh light.
"You know, that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a goodnight's sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles tried to joke. While Brooke appreciated his attempt to make the situation less tense, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at him.
"When the infection reaches my heart, it will kill me," Derek said breathlessly.
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles said angrily. Brooke glared at him as she helped keep Derek steady. She held her cousin upright as he began to dig through the drawers in the room.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, last resort." Derek said.
"Which is?" Stiles asked.
Derek held up a hand saw. "You're going to have to cut off my arm."
Both Brooke and Stiles stilled as Derek placed the saw on the table.
"What, no!" Stiles shouted. He leaned on the table for support at the thought. "What if you bleed to death?"
"It'll heal if it works," Derek said. He wrapped a piece of rubber around his arm where the darkened veins ended.
"I don't know if I can do this," Stiles said. He shook his head as his face turned slightly green.
"Why not?" Derek asked. Brooke helped him tie the rubber off.
"Let's see: the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!" His voice cracked on the last word.
Brooke raised an eyebrow at him. "You faint at the sight of blood?"
"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!"
"Fine, I'll do it!" Brooke said, carefully picking up the saw.
"No, I won't let you do that!" Stiles said, not wanting her to be mentally scarred forever. He grabbed the saw from her.
Derek went to interject, but he quickly leaned over the side of the table and emptied his stomach. The thick black substance hit the hard ground loudly.
"Oh, god. What the hell is that?!" Stiles asked. He covered his nose with the collar of his shirt.
"It's my body trying to heal itself," Derek said once he finished gagging.
"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it."
Derek ignored Stiles and turned to Brooke. Her body was frozen in fear, hands clenched at her side. He reached out with his good hand, placing it on her shoulder lightly. "You gotta do it now, Brooke."
She shook her head, quickly clearing her head of the sight of Derek vomiting. She reached across the table for the saw, but Stiles held it back from her.
"I don't know if I can let you do this," he told Brooke honestly.
"Just give me the goddamn saw, Stilinski!" she snapped. Stiles handed her the saw reluctantly and backed up. Brooke steadied the saw in her hand, placing the other on Derek's shoulder. He laid his upper body flat on the table and she lowered the saw to his skin.
Just as the blade touched Derek's arm, the front door swung open and Brooke heard Scott yell out.
"Stiles! Brooke!" He yelled rushing into the room. He looked at the saw in Brooke's hand and Stiles' squeamish expression. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, thank god. You just prevented a life time of night mares." Stiles walked towards the table and slowly pulled the saw out of Brooke's hand.
"Did you get it?" Derek asked. He pushed himself upright. Scott dug into his pocket and handed the bullet to Derek. Before he had the chance to do anything, Derek passed out. The bullet fell out of his hand and he collapsed on to the ground.
"Derek!" Brooke yelled. She rushed to his side and Stiles quickly joined her. Scott ran to the drain the bullet fell through, sticking his hand into it to try and reach it. "Derek, come one. Wake up!" She patted his face lightly, voice trembling.
Stiles tried to comfort her with one hand while shaking Derek with the other. "Scott, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know!" Scott yelled back, fingers barely scraping the metal casing.
"You better not be dying!" Brooke yelled at Derek's body. She was openly crying now, shaking him violently. Scott managed to grab the bullet and raced over to them. Both boys looked at Brooke expectantly but she couldn't move her eyes from Derek's figure.
"Please don't kill me for this," Stiles muttered. He drew his fist back and punched Derek across the face. The action both woke up Derek and broke Brooke from her trance. Brooke grabbed Stiles' hand as Derek sat up, grabbing the bullet from Scott.
Derek opened up the bullet and emptied its contents onto the table, lighting it on fire. Brooke pulled Stiles up to the table as well, and he barely noticed how his hand no longer hurt, despite it feeling like it was broken only moments ago.
Brooke helped Derek scoop the ashes into his hand, and he pressed them roughly into the bullet wound. He let out a yell in pain as the ashes burned his skin. Brooke held Scott back as he tried to go help Derek, and the three teenagers watched as the bullet hole eventually healed and faded away.
"That. Was. Awesome!" Stiles yelled. Brooke couldn't help but laugh alongside him, shocked it had worked and that Derek had survived. She rushed into his arms, throwing her arms around him, Derek quickly hugging his cousin back.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked as the cousins parted.
"Yeah, except for the agonizing pain," Derek mumbled sarcastically.
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stiles said. Both Brooke and Derek glared at him.
"We saved your life, that means you leave us alone, you got that?" Scott told Derek. "If you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad and I'm going to tell them—"
"You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?" Brooke scoffed.
"What do you mean? Allison's your friend," Scott said. He turned his attention to Derek. "And they're a lot freaking nicer than you!"
"I can show you exactly how nice they are," Derek said. Brooke looked up at him in surprise. "Do you want to come?"
Brooke shook her head. "I can't. Not yet." Scott and Stiles looked confusedly between the two, but Derek just left the room, dragging Scott with him. Stiles watched them leave before turning back to Brooke.
"Now what?" He asked.
Brooke let out a sigh. "Drive me home, Stilinski."
******
The drive to Brooke's house was silent. Both she and Stiles felt incredibly awkward. Him for snapping at her earlier, and her for letting him see her cry.
When they pulled up to her house, Stiles was surprised that Brooke didn't get out of the car right away. Since she had been avoiding him recently, he figured she'd want to escape as soon as possible. Instead, she sat still in her seat, eyes focused in front of her.
"Did you mean what you said earlier, about not trusting me?" her voice cracking as she broke the silence. Stiles looked at her in surprise. She continued looking straight ahead.
"No," he admitted. "Sort of. I don't know."
Brooke nodded her head sadly and eventually turned to look at him. "Do you want to come inside?"
Stiles' jaw dropped in shock and he nodded his head wordlessly. Together they silently climbed out of Stiles' jeep and walked towards the front door. Brooke led him through the living room and towards her bedroom. She threw her bag on the floor by her desk and tiredly sat down on her bed.
Stiles stood by the door way awkwardly. He glanced around the room and tried to notice every detail he could. The walls were a light blue. Her desk was covered in textbooks and papers. Pictures hung on her walls from thin wires. There was an unnecessary amount of pillows on the bed.
Stiles had dreamt of what her bedroom looked like for years, and now that he was here he wanted to remember everything about it. He felt a blush crawl up his neck and was grateful to see Brooke wasn't even looking at him.
He slowly walked into the room until he was standing in front of her, too uncomfortable to actually sit down. Brooke let out a deep breath and turned to look at him.
"I promise I'm not purposefully keeping things from you anymore," she told him. "It's just, you keep on asking me question after question and I don't have any of the answers. I feel like such a failure because I promised you I would help, and yet I can't do anything."
Stiles' eyes widened at her confession. He moved closer and sat in front of her on the bed. "I understand," he said softly. "And I'm sorry. You do help—at least you try to. I know Scott and I are stubborn sometimes, and life would be easier if we listened to you more."
"As soon as you two realize I'm always right we'll actually get somewhere," Brooke said after a moment. Stiles saw a small smile on her face and knew she was kidding.
"I think I've reached that point. Now, we just have to get Scotty on board," he answered honestly. Brooke let out a slight chuckle and shook her head.
"Just tell me one more thing," Stiles said hesitantly. Brooke looked at him and nodded her head. "Earlier, when you tried help Derek in my car, what was that? And how come after I punched him it felt like my hand was broken, but then you grab it and the pain goes away? Also, Scott always instantly calms down when you touch him. And a few weeks ago, when I slammed on my brakes, I noticed the seatbelt gave you a slight scratch, but it healed almost instantly."
Brooke's eyebrows raised as Stiles kept talking, never realizing that he had noticed anything. After a minute of staring at each other, Brooke finally said "I didn't realize you were so observant."
"I'm not normally," Stiles admitted. His eyes widened at what he implied; that he was only observant when it came to her. Brooke's mind flashed back to what Lydia said in the car, about Stiles having a crush on her. Brooke shoved the thought away and quickly stood up, walking over towards her desk.
She picked up a pair of scissors and walked back to the bed. She sat down in front of Stiles again, only this time they were much closer, knees almost touching.
"Can I trust you?" Brooke asked, toying with the scissors in her hands.
"Yeah, you definitely can," Stiles nodded.
"Do you trust me?"
Silence.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Wordlessly, Brooke picked up Stiles' right hand. He blushed at her touch, and she flattened his hand, palm facing up. She dragged one of the scissor's blades across his palm, leaving a large scratch in its absence. Stiles winced slightly at the pain, and Brooke apologized quietly.
Stiles' eyes furrowed as she set the scissors on the bed beside her. Brooke grabbed Stile's right hand with her left, almost cradling it and leaving his right palm exposed. She held out her right hand, palm up, next to his and closed her eyes.
Stiles almost yelped in surprise as the scar on his hand began to heal, and a similar one formed on Brooke's. He watched in amazement as the skin on his hand closed and the scratch on Brooke's hand faded eventually as well.
Brooke opened her eyes cautiously, scared to see Stiles' reaction. However, when she opened her eyes, she found Stiles already staring at her in amazement. Her heart skipped a beat.
Realizing she was still holding onto his hand, Brooke dropped it quickly and scooted back slightly. The both turned their gazes away from each other awkwardly and Stiles cleared his throat.
"I don't know what that was, or what you are, but it's pretty freaking awesome."
Brooke smiled slowly and leaned back against her bed frame. Stiles smiled back at her and laughed.
"To be honest, I don't know what I am either!" She joined in on his laughter and soon they were both laughing hysterically.
Once they had calmed down, Stiles found himself asking "How long have you been able to do that?"
Brooke shrugged. "I don't know. There wasn't a specific day it started happening. I remember never being sick growing up, and one time I fell out of a tree and broke my arm. My mom never took me to the doctor and the next day I was playing again. The older I get the easier it becomes."
"Was your mom..." Stiles trailed off.
"She was like me," Brooke finished for him. "She always told me she'd explain everything, but she... died before she got the chance."
Stiles reached out and tenderly touched her arm. "I'm really sorry you had to go through that. I lost my mom too when I was younger. I wanted to reach out when you joined our school."
"Why didn't you?" Brooke asked.
"I was scared," Stiles confessed. "You were best friends with Lydia and popular and pretty. I didn't think you wanted to talk to someone like me."
Brooke placed her hand over Stiles' and smiled. "Well, at least you're here now."
******
would you look at that, they're finally getting somewhere