METAMORPHOSIS • DEREK HALE [COMPLETED]

Chapter Nine

Sorry about the early update earlier! I accidently hit publish went I meant to save lol, but I hope you like this chapter!

"What the hell is happening to this kid," Stiles shouted in mid struggle as he attempted to hold down a thrashing Brett Talbot. A player from the opposing team, and another beta, the one being targeted by the seemingly teen assassins on the field.

They might have striked their target, but they sure as hell were not going to win their prize. No one in the clinic was going to let him die.

"He's been poisoned with a rare wolfsbane," Deaton explained, his voice urgent. With speed, he circuled around Derek and Stiles holding him down. Yellow puss spewed from the teen's mouth as he fought back their hands. "I need to make an incision, and you need to hold him as still as possible."

"Hey, Derek, how about a little werewolf strength," Stiles gasped at an equally struggling Derek.

"Yeah, I'm not the only one here with werewolf strength," he retorted back.

"If you can't hold him still, the incision might kill him," Deaton eyed the two.

"Here, I've got him," Alex practically threw the excess supplies in her hands onto the nearest counter top, and she firmly held down Brett's shoulders.

With Derek and Stiles holding down his arms and Alex pinning down his chest, he became aware of all of his surroundings including the unfamiliar people binding him to the table and the intense pain running throughout his entire body.

His glowing amber eyes flew wide open, silently screaming with terror. Deaton's trembling scapel, only centimeters away from his skin, made Brett resist and wrestle back with more strength.

"Derek, Alex, he's slipping," Stiles called out, "I don't think I can hold him!"

Before they could re-enforce their grasp with more strength, Brett surged with force, and he pushed all four away from him. He leeped off of the examining table and spun around, unsure of where to go. He felt like a trapped animal in a cage. Once finding the exit, he charged but was soon stopped by a blow to the face, delivered by Peter, who made his unexpected appearance. The strike rendered him unconscious, and he fell to the floor.

With Peter's eyes glowing the cold, heartless blue, he looked at a surprised Derek, "I guess I still have a little werewolf strength myself."

"Yeah, maybe more than a little," Derek commented before looking down at his forearm. Both him and Alex saw deep claw marks embedded in his skin.

"Derek," Alex gasped quietly, rushing over to him. She ran her thumb along the cuts, waiting for them to heal, but they didn't.

"Hey Doc, I don't think he's breathing," Stiles regained their attention. Him and Deaton both dropped down to a crouching position over the unawake teen. Deaton proceeded to cut into his sternum with a scapel. As the blade slid through his skin, a powdery yellow smoke was released into the air, and Brett began to breathe again. "Is he okay," Stiles wondered.

The moment the gas spread through the air, Derek's wounds completely healed. Only Peter and Alex noticed. Concern flooded her; he was loosing him powers faster than she thought.

"I think he'll be fine, but probably out for a while," Deaton answered.

"Guys, can you hear that," Stiles asked. Audible gasps were coming past Brett's lips. "I think he's saying something."

Everyone listened in closer. Deaton leaned in, his ear inches away from his mouth. He and those with heightened hearing heard him whsiper in short, labored breathes, "The sun, the moon, the truth, the sun, the moon, the truth.