❝ * 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 - STILES STILINSKI.

𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢.

[ 4x12. ]

☼      ☽      ♡

The van pulled to a stop at their destination. The quartet occupying the back all panted with the effort it had taken to keep Liam calm. The 'wolf in question let out a chuckle of innocent relief. The rest of them looked at him with slight annoyance. Puck rubbed his temples. 

"I can't believe I did it! For a minute there, I thought I was gonna tear the three of you apart!" Liam said. 

"Yeah, that would've made for an awkward ride home, so, thanks," Stiles retorted, words absolutely drenched in sarcasm. 

"Think you can bring the same level of control and strength inside La Iglesia?" Derek asked. 

Liam flicked out his claws in response. There was a moment of silence. Puck snorted, unimpressed. 

"Alright, we might actually be able to do this!" Stiles said hopefully. Puck's gaze snapped to him. 

"What?! Stiles, he's a kid, we can't bring him in there!" 

"We have to," his boyfriend argued, grabbing his hand in comfort. 

"We need all the help we can get," Derek added, going for the van door. 

As the oldest grabbed the handle, the hairs on Puck's neck stood up. 

The door swung open, and Derek was immediately faced with a Berserker. The large, bone-covered monster threw him onto the ground. Before any of them could react, it dragged him to a large rock, and began repeatedly stabbing him with a claw-like bone. Letting out a cry of surprise, Puck leapt out of the van, ready to attack the thing. Gunshots sounded before he got to it, as Braeden rapidly fired a shotgun at it until it took off. She rushed to Derek, Puck a close second, as the man crumbled to the ground. 

Peter, Malia, Stiles, and Liam exited their vehicles, standing just a short distance away, watching in horror and worry. There was an eerie silence only broken by Derek's short pants of pain. Braeden looked over his wounds with a grimace. 

"How bad is it?" Peter asked, voice uncharacteristically trembling with emotion. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine! Just- just get to Scott," Derek insisted, his teeth pink with blood. He looked up to Puck, eyes wide. "Just find him. We'll be right behind you. Go." 

Puck stared right back at him for a moment, not budging, eyes darting between Derek's eyes and his wounds. 

"Go!" the man yelled again, this time to Stiles. 

The group, still worried, turned and began to make their way to the large building. Stiles followed, slower, waiting for Puck. The werewolf in question stood up finally, starting to turn to join him, before Derek spoke once more.