𝟎𝟏𝟗 the kanima.

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the kanima.












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"WHY AM I NOT HEALING?" Scott mumbles, fumbling with the locked door of the veterinarian clinic. Paxton holds him up with his arm around her shoulder.

The two had found their way to Scott's job knowing his injury is far out of the expertise of the hospital. He informed her that they would be safe there. That his boss, Deaton, knew more about the supernatural than they could imagine.

He unlocks the door quickly causing the two to stumble inside the dark interior. With Scott still clinging to her, she leads them into the back rooms of the building. She could remember which way to go from her last visit; when Derek had been shot.

The door of the main surgery room cracks by itself causing Paxton to look to Scott with a questioning expression. But they didn't have time to discuss the safety, she pushes it open completely before carrying Scott's weight against her inside.

"Because it's from Derek," a voice shocks them.

Instantly, Paxton drops Scott to the floor. He groans as she incessantly cusses under her breath. She crouches beside him, helping him back up. On their way back to their feet, they look to the man who frightened them. Deaton watches them with a weary smile, holding back his laugh at how hard Scott had fallen.

Deaton enters the room from an open door that leads into another surgical room. He steps up to the metal table centered in the room. The attention lands onto what's lying on the table. Or more, who.

A body lies uncovered on the metal. Skin covered in deep gashes of the unidentifiable man, deep enough to see his organs.

Nausea consumes the girl, she couldn't even graze the body with a glance of an eye without the need to hurl. She blinks as she avoids any contact with the body, burrowing her face in Scott's shoulder.

"Come here," Deaton instructs before taking Scott out of her hold. He brings the boy to a set of cabinets against a brick wall. Paxton follows, leaning against the cabinet beside Scott. Deaton grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol and wets a cotton ball, "they're coming back so we don't have much time to talk."

Scott turns his head to Paxton, silently asking if he had missed something. Her brows crease as she shakes her head, not knowing who Deaton's referring to.

Deaton applies the cotton to Scott's cuts. "What is that?" Scott hisses which brings a smile to the other's faces. The werewolf who finds pain in a simple disinfectant.

"Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected, do you?" his boss responds.

As Scott shakes his head to answer the man, Paxton watches carefully to what the man is doing. Mentally noting what she might have to do if they're ever in the situation.

"You'll heal the same, just not as quickly because of Derek."

"How do you know all of this?" she asks, narrowing her eyes as she watches the man throw away the cotton ball.

"It's a long story but what I can tell you is that I know about your kind," he looks to Scott, "your kind, I can help." He bandages up his wounds before continuing, "this," his gaze goes to the lifeless body in the middle of the room, "this is something different."

"W-well do you know what did it?" Scott stutters with his widened gaze on the deep gashes of the man.

Deaton pauses, his attentive demeanor replaced with concern. "No, but the Argent's will and this is the crucial part: they'll have some kind of record o-or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered."

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