Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 6: The Picnic

Stiles was lying on his bedroom floor with pain burning into his skin. His chest was on fire; a deep burning that made him curl up on his side. There were hands on him and he shoved them off. He opened his eyes to Derek and his dad hovering over him. Scott and Lydia were by the foot of his bed. There was movement behind him and he turned his head.

Deaton was kneeling on the rug, holding a metal rod in his hand.

Stiles cried out in fear and launched himself away, across the floor. He backed up against the window near his bed. He hunched up and tried to put his arms around his chest where the burning ached and throbbed. He couldn't touch it, it hurt too much, so his hands hovered over the pain.

"Stiles, God, Stiles. Are you okay?" his dad asked in a choked voice.

"What's he doing here?!" Stiles hissed out, shooting a hateful glance at Deaton as he placed the rod on the floor and put his hands on his knees.

Stiles' dad answered quickly, "He pulled you out of whatever that was, Stiles! Derek found you. We thought you were going to have a heart attack. Deaton was the only one who had any idea what to do!"

"Only one?" Stiles glanced down at his chest and gaped at the red oozing welt of burnt skin slashed across it. Seeing it made the pain a hundred times worse. He went cold all over his body, except where the burn was. That was liquid agony. He didn't know whether he was going to pass out or throw up. Possibly both, and in that order.

"We had no idea what to do," Scott spoke up.

"So you called that bastard?!" Stiles spat out, focusing on what was happening in the room, not on his chest.

"Stiles! He helped you!" his dad reprimanded him.

"He burnt me!" Stiles yelled. "Get the fuck out of my room! All of you!"

"Stiles, someone needs to check your burn, your vitals," Deaton said.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, furious. "You. Don't. Talk. To. Me." He sat forward, curling his lip in distaste.

A sensation swept over him as it had in the study yesterday, and suddenly the room was so much clearer to him than it had been before. The pain in his chest muted and the relief from it gave him a boost of energy.

"Stiles," whispered Lydia and his dad at the same time.

He flicked a glance their way, and they reeled back like he'd struck them.

Scott's eyes bled red and he straightened up, like Stiles poised a threat.

Stiles sneered at him, and turned back to Deaton. "You burned me." He crouched up onto his hands and toes. Deaton actually went a little pale as he carefully tracked Stiles' movements.

Derek's eyes were changing between his human green and wolf blue, flickering back and forth. He had his palms out, facing Stiles, showing he was not a threat.

"You were in trouble, the iron rod brought you back to consciousness." Deaton edged back a little.

Stiles saw red. "You put iron on me?!" He yelled furiously, and launched himself at Deaton.

He was caught easily by Derek, who shouted at everyone to get out of the room. Stiles fought against him, but for all his posturing, he really had no strength so he was quickly tiring.

"Scott, pull the shades!" Derek cried out.

Scott moved to the window and the room was plunged into semi-dark. He glanced at Stiles.

"You need to leave, Scott!" Derek urged him as Stiles used his fingers to try to open Derek's grasp. It might be a hopeless task but he wasn't giving up.