*WAS CRUEL SUMMER*
"The pain of it slashed through my body in nauseating waves before settling heavily in the pit of my belly. I tried to hold it together, to hold it down, but I couldn't."
{ scott mccall x fem!oc }
{ season three - six }
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orphaned
Breathlessly, a blonde girl barged into the animal clinic, screaming the veterinarian's name, her eyes still lingering outside as she watched them struggle to carry a seizing werewolf out from the back of the Jeep. Her voice echoed through a quiet clinic again, the desperation added a rasp to her usually soft voice, soon, the man came running from the stockroom, his eyes widening as he watched Derek and Stiles drag a boy in a green jersey through the doors. Brett was seizing while he rested on their shoulders, his condition seemed to be deteriorating rapidly, yellow foam had begun spewing from his mouth, staining not only his lacrosse uniform, but the white dress Nellie wore as she stood drenched by the substance.
Her disgust aside, she was terrified. She didn't know what was wrong with him. Not even Derek's knowledge of ways to kill a werewolf was familiar with the yellow foam. Fortunately, Deaton was familiar. Wolfsbane. A rare form of it. He insisted that they carry him to the table and quickly, the time on this case was limited, the infection was close to reaching Brett's heart, in a few moments he could be dead.
With wide eyes the blonde girl turned back to the three behind her, quickly aiding them in taking Brett into the other room as they followed behind the veterinarian, it was only when she had the werewolf on her back that she realized why the two had complained so much. He wasn't light, it was like carrying an entire car, not only did he have the naturally heavier body of a werewolf but he had the body mass of an athlete. She was powerful, not strong, there was a difference.
As the three of them struggled to throw Brett onto the table Deaton searched for a small knife to cure Brett's problem. The three tossed him carelessly onto the surgical table, there wasn't time to be gentle, any cuts and bruises they gave him couldn't be any worse than what the assassins had done to him, if anything, he wouldn't even notice that they threw him around.
Brett's fitting continued as Derek and Stiles tried to keep him still, Noelle stepped back with her eyes filled with horror, her entire body covered in the yellow foam seeping from his mouth. This, this was what assassins were capable of, two measly teenagers. Perhaps these were the things a huntress like her was supposed to do to werewolves and other supernaturals, but it wasn't what she had signed up for. She had signed up for self-defense, something to help her from the likes of Deucalion and his pack, not two human teenagers with a taste for violence. Fighting them was too much of a risk, a risk of her killing them. Just like she could have killed Violet tonight.
"I need to make an incision and you need to hold him as still as possible." Deaton urged the pair trying to do exactly that, but it was a struggle. Brett was stronger than their combined strength. Stiles looked at the freaked-out blonde girl, a hint for her to help, to grab the werewolf's legs or something. But she did one better.
Her eyes turned to a violent green as vines appeared from thin air, wrapping around Brett's arms and legs, pulling him down to the table, steadying him until the moment from his seizing slowly became minimal. "Can you hold that there?" Deaton asked the blonde as she nodded, refraining from telling him how hard it was for her to do, as though it was taking every ounce of her to hold the werewolf down.
