Chapter 13

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Beyond The Bite  •  Chapter 13
(Word Count: 1,561)

-Derek's POV-

When Stiles ceased resisting the submersion, we exchanged a wordless consensus and relinquished our grip on his limbs, allowing him to gently surface.

"Stiles, are you with us?" spoke Deaton, his voice infused with a calming cadence, navigating Stiles through the deep hypnosis.

A visible shiver passed through Stiles' lips, yet he offered no response, his eyes dancing behind closed eyelids.

"Stiles?" I murmured, assuming the role of his support, my hands beneath his arms.

"Stiles?" I murmured, assuming the role of his support, my hands beneath his arms

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"Derek, it's... it's so dark here," Stiles stammered, fingers death-gripping the tub's edge.

"It's alright, you're not alone," I reassured him, my eyes fleetingly connecting with our packmates'. "I'm right here with you. You're safe."

At my words, Stiles' body yielded somewhat, the tension easing from his frame.

"Remember what Deaton said; look for the connection with Enochain," I whispered near Stiles' ear, a tentative instruction.

"There's... something," he murmured, water rippling with his subtle movements.

"Describe what you see to us, Stiles."

"Smoke... tendrils of black smoke," he whispered, a shudder coursing through him as his body recoiled.

Deaton gestured to Malia and Isaac, signaling their readiness to steady Stiles' trembling legs.

"It can't harm you, Stiles," I soothed, spreading my hand across his chest, drawing him nearer to my own warmth.

"Please... don't let it..." Stiles gasped, his frame yielding fully into my embrace.

"Stiles?" I queried the unsettling quiet that followed.

"Derek, he's not breathing!" Scott exclaimed, tinged with dread.

"Get him out, now," commanded Deaton, command sharp with concern.

Suppressing the rising panic, I composed myself as we collectively hoisted Stiles from the water, laying him on the clinic floor.

"Get him out, now," commanded Deaton, his voice underscored by a rare urgency.

Adrenaline combating the rise of panic, we collectively hoisted Stiles from the tub, his body stretched lifeless on the tile floor.

Deaton felt for Stiles's pulse, eyes fixed on his wristwatch's second hand.

"His pulse is there, barely," Deaton announced as he hastily covered Stiles with towels. "Warm him. Body heat," he instructed, glancing at me.

Acknowledging with a nod, I enfolded Stiles in my arms, cradling his icy form as if willing my own heat into his veins.

Curious and perturbed gazes fell on me as I cradled Stiles.

Beyond The Bite(Sterek fanfiction)(M/M)Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora