SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
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orphaned
Rain poured down heavy, the night black as four bodies stumbled into the animal clinic, a series of grunts and a bell alerting a veterinarian working late that someone had arrived. He knew who had entered his clinic, he knew by the bickering voices of Derek and Stiles, the lecturing of a girl who was often found at their sides. As for the fourth person he could hear, he couldn't say that it was someone he was familiar with, but he did recognize a lacrosse uniform when he saw one.
Those of the group who he did know well were carrying the young boy as he weakly mumbled, a yellow foam spluttering from his mouth as he swayed in and out of consciousness. He knew the circumstances here, wolfsbane, a rare form of it. Even with Derek's help it was hard to carry such a weighty wolf, Brett was young and an athlete, not to mention that werewolves carried natural strength in their bones. Stiles and Kinsey had taken Brett's left side, Derek on the right, all trying their hardest to keep him upright. Brett's weight was the entire reason the teenagers had called for some help, it was between Derek and Peter, luckily for Stiles, Derek answered first. They had taken so long to pull Brett through the school halls that the wolf had managed to reach them as they walked out of the building, making their trip to the Jeep just a little quicker. When she had called saying that she needed help a few things had come to mind, wondering what she'd gotten herself into this time. And she never ceased to amaze him with her ability to get into trouble.
What wasn't a surprise was the car ride here. Kinsey had been in the back with Brett, trying to do what she could to keep him alive while the other two sat in front, in true Derek and Stiles fashion that had meant the pair of them bickering while Stiles tried to explain what had happened. He'd explained about Garrett and Violet, how they'd tried killing Brett on the field, and as a bonus, an Alpha and Kinsey. Of course, as the protective cousin he was, Derek had to question where Stiles was when she was almost being slaughtered in the middle of the school corridor, that was just a start to a lengthy argument that had taken up most of their journey. Stiles's inability to look after Kinsey. Something Derek never had to worry about when it was a werewolf at her side, not just a skinny, defenseless boy who wasn't even on the Deadpool that threatened her life. Kinsey noted that the two of them were going to speak like she wasn't there no matter how many times she'd intervened, telling them that she was more than capable of defending herself- like she'd done a short fifteen minutes ago with Garrett. Though neither listened to her.
It seemed that the moment the four of them had passed through the clinic Brett deteriorated, he had taken a turn for the worst as he began shaking more than he already had been, more yellow foam seeping from his mouth than ever, the amount of dead weight they were having to carry a lot heavier. Deaton hurried them along, the three of them retorted to dragging Brett to the back room, there was no time for stumbling now, it was a crucial time. As the three struggled to place him on the table in the middle of the room Deaton searched for a small knife, instructing Derek and Stiles to hold Brett down so he could make an incision.
