Blue Moons | Allison Argent

¢hคptēr ēiງhtēēຖ

★・・・🐺・・・★

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗘𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻;
𝗡𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱

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"Okay, look, we're almost there, okay?" Stiles says, glancing in the rear view mirror momentarily to check on Charlotte and Milo, who both have their eyes closed. "And please try not to bleed out on my seats. Any of you."

"Got it." Charlotte mutters.

"Okay." Milo speaks up.

"Where the hell are you taking us?" Derek questions, his eyes dragging through the environment around him.

"To your house." Stiles replies simply.

"What?" Derek asks, completely alarmed, making Stiles jump. "You can't take us there."

"We're friends with a dumbass, Arlo." Milo speaks up.

"I know." Charlotte rasps, just wanting to go back to sleep.

She doesn't even realise that she didn't correct Milo on the term 'friends.'

"I can't take you guys to your own house?"

"Not whilst we can't defend ourselves, no."

"Think about it, idiot." Milo says, slowly sitting up despite his eyes still being closed. "A Hunter comes into our house whilst we're already injured. It doesn't exactly look too well for us."

The last sentence he speaks in a light whisper, slowly laying back down onto Charlotte's chest to fall back to sleep.

"Okay, yeah, that's a good point." Stiles slowly nods, taking a few moments before he turns to Derek, another thought pushing its way through his mind. "What happens if Scott doesn't find your magic bullets? Hm? Are you all dying..? Charlotte, Milo, please don't die."

"Don't tell us what to do." Milo and Charlotte say simultaneously.

"Right-" Stiles starts, slowly stopping the Jeep on the side of an eerily empty road. "Please answer the question."

"We're not dying yet." Derek shakes his head.

"Oh, thank god-"

"I have a last resort." The oldest Hale adds, earning three very confused looks.

"You sound like you're gonna chop your arm off." Charlotte is the first to speak up.

"What last resort?" Stiles asks hesitantly, only to receive silence from Derek, who is now slowly taking his Jacket off. "Charlotte, Milo, what's his last resort?"

"I don't care." Charlotte replies with a throaty groan, her eyes squeezing shut tightly from the pain washing through her body.

"Do you want me to move?" Milo asks quietly, worried that he's got something to do with Charlotte being in more pain than himself and Derek.

"No, you're good, Bolt. Go back to sleep."

She lightly presses the nine year old's head back down onto her shoulder, going back to running her hand through his hair to soothe him back to sleep. However, as soon as she feels eyes on her, she looks up, seeing Stiles staring at her with worry.

"Please don't die." He repeats in a plea, his shoulders slumping defeatedly.

"I have no choice in the matter, Jeep Boy." Charlotte shrugs in reply, her mouth twitching up into a small smile. "Make sure to play Queen at my funeral."