Sagesse ☾ Derek Hale {2}

thirty six; start healing

"Derek!" My voices echoes along with the hurried sound of all of our footsteps. We rush down the stairs and are met with a concerned looking alpha ahead of us. Without a word, Derek takes her unconscious body from Scott's arms. We move over to one of the subway cars in the abandoned spot Derek has been using as his home. He lays her on the cement floor and Stiles' worried voice pulls on my heart strings, "Is she dying?!"

Derek only shakes his head while looking over her shaking form, "I...she might. Which is why this is gonna hurt." He reaches out, wrapping his hands around her small forearm, then twisting. The distinct sound of bone snapping is immediately followed by Erica's screams. She withers in pain and I watch, feeling horrible that there isn't some way I could take the pain away. Scott cover's his mouth in shock and I lay my hand on Stiles' shoulder as he looks at Derek in anger, "You broke her arm!"

"It'll trigger the healing process..." He only looks to me with worrisome eyes. "It'll help her start to heal everything." Derek only grabs her arms tighter in front of us, Erica's screams now low whimpers of pain. "I still gotta get the venom out," I groan and lay my hands on her shoulders, assuming this was not going to be pleasant for her. "This is where it's really gonna hurt."

Erica's screaming sounds like it's never going to end as black goo starts to drain on the floor before us. I wince and watch as Stiles tries his best to console her, pulling her into his lap comfortingly. Exhausted from the pain, she falls back into his chest and sighs. Her eyes slowly shut, but with the last bit of her strength she mutters out one thing, "Stiles. You make a good Batman." Her head then rests back as she completely passes out.

I stand quickly, moving out of the cart and into the main room. I sigh angrily and let my hand push through my hair in frustration. We aren't working fast enough, figuring it out fast enough, and because of that people are dying. "You wanna talk about it?"

I let out a humorless laugh at the familiar deep voice behind me. I blink away that slight burning sensation you get in your eyes right before emotion takes over reason. I turn to face the brooding man in front of me for what seems like the hundredth time since I've moved to this damned town, "No, not really. Plus, you're gonna have to start charging some kind of therapy fee or something with the amount I unload on you."

I throw myself onto one the steps and let my arms rest atop my knees. Derek doesn't saying anything, but I notice the small smile ghost his face at my words. He moves over, taking the empty space next to me. I know his silence his way of telling me to speak so I turn to meet his eyes with a sigh, "I'm frustrated. Furious. I feel like the answer is constantly staring me right in the face, but yet I can't figure it out. I need to...before someone else dies."

"You also have to remember that this isn't on just you to figure out. All of us are searching for answers." His words only momentarily take away some of the weight on my shoulders. At least it did before I remember who all of us includes.

My expression falls even more at the faces of my father and grandfather flash in my mind, "That's part of what I'm worried about. There are certain people I feel won't end this without killing even more of my friends." Jackass wasn't a friend in my book by any means, but it doesn't mean I want him dead. Not when someone else is controlling him.

"I know it's not just up to me to end this, but I feel like whatever has been happening to me is giving me some kind of upper hand. One that I can figure out how the hell to use." I rest my head in my hands with disappointment in myself. I only look over when I can feel Derek's gaze on me, a question burning in his eyes. "What?"

"Have you read anymore of the journal Deaton gave you? You said yourself that is the closet thing you have to answers on how you might be able to control what's happening." I only sigh and let my eyes fall to the floor. No, I haven't touched the journal since the night I began to read the first passage. The desire to dive in and discover all the gritty details was eating at me, but so was the fear of what could be. Before I can reply, Scott comes into the room with a passion in his steps.