Teen She-Wolf

Chapter 10 - Check My Vital Signs

***DEREK***

I see Stiles fall, bleeding profusely from a cut to his side, practically up into his armpit.

Somewhere, Lydia screams, and I'm immediately scared that he's about to die. But no, she's not even looking at him. She's looking at an Alpha right as Aiden claws his throat out, tearing his jugular.

As Scott and Allison race to Stiles' side, I zero in on the Alpha who hurt him.

I direct you back to the third rule of my pack.

This fucker's ass is mine. As are those of the rest of his people. They're through. They'd better get ready to get on their knees and beg Saint Peter for forgiveness.

One by one, Alphas go down as I strategically claw the backs of their necks. Each time, I get a couple of seconds to look into their minds. I don't stick around very long - just long enough to make them bleed, and remind them of all the horrors in their pasts. And like most werewolves, they have plenty to spare.

All in all, the majority of the Alpha Pack goes down in less than a minute. And then there's Deucalion. He looks genuinely shocked at how easily his poor unfortunate minions have been defeated. Then he snaps out his claws, drops his cane, turns my way, and rushes at me.

All right, you sick son of a bitch. Bring it on.

I play chicken with him, waiting for him to get just barely within striking distance before jumping out of the way. He reaches out with both arms, and the claws on his left hand rake my leg. It stings like hell, but I need to power through it. Stiles is in so much more trouble than I am. As much as Scott and Allison - and now Lydia - are fighting to help him regain consciousness, he's not. I need to help him, now. But first...

Deucalion roars at me - or, more accurately, at the space to the side of my head. I stay still, thinking for a split second that maybe he won't see me. Like in Jurassic Park. Of course, I'm quickly disabused of that foolish notion. He zeroes in on me all over again, using whatever infrared vision or bat-like echolocation he's got at his disposal. Frankly, at this point, I don't care how he does it. I just care about defeating him once and for all.

I won't be alone, either. Skylar slides up behind Deucalion and then jumps onto him, grabbing hold and not letting go. Her hood falls off, exposing her skin, but by now the sun's mostly hidden behind the cabin. She's at no risk of burning, not now. But getting hurt in other ways? Different story, one that could end pretty badly. Let's try to keep the ending a little more firmly on the side of good, huh? Not that it's firmly there anyway...and now I think I'm channeling Stiles all of a sudden. I would expect him to narrate everything in this kind of long-winded fashion. And to show awareness that there's a narrative being read to begin with.

Deucalion's blind eyes are just as sensitive to physical attacks as anyone's, so that's what Skylar targets with her thumbs. She pulls off his sunglasses and throws them aside, then digs her thumbnails into his corneas. She doesn't seem to be enjoying it any more than he is, and if anything, she looks even more horrified.

I allow her a second or two of this before racing forward and pulling her off of Deucalion, who hits the floor, holding his eyes as they bleed. No, I don't mean he literally holds his eyes in his hands - he's just covering them as the blood drips down his cheeks. Both of them. Skylar's thumbnails aren't that long - neither are any of her others - but she really knows how to dish out maximum damage with them.

Whatever he's got to help him "see," it seems to have been lost in this attack, so I take advantage of that. He doesn't even react at all until after I've one-two punched him right in the stomach. He's got ripped abs for a man of his age, but not like mine (not to brag), so he folds almost in half under my fists. Then I bring my knee up into his chest, sending him sprawling and landing on his back.

"You might be a big strong super-Alpha," I say, leaning over him, "but you're not stronger than my pack." I spit on the ground next to his head.

Skylar grimaces at the sight, then hisses, "Do you surrender?"

Deucalion doesn't give us a verbal answer - he's still trying to catch his breath. Instead, he rolls over, then gets to his feet. He looks at the ground, locates his cane - clearly his enhanced senses haven't failed him completely - and picks it up. The rest of his pack, those that are still alive, rise off the ground as well, then follow him as he leaves the scene. "We're not done with you yet," he says in what must be his lowest possible growl. "We'll come back sooner rather than later."

"We'll be waiting," I say. "And hopefully by then, you'll have finally learned we mean business."

"Guys!" Scott calls us over to where Stiles still lies motionless.

Skylar and I run to that spot. He looks like death itself - pale as marble, his layered clothes matted with lost blood. It's more than any human can survive.

Any human.

I know now what I have to do, but before I can give him a much-needed bite, Skylar grabs my wrist and holds me back. "No," she says. "Let me do it."

"My way will save his life!" I say. "Exchanging blood with him is too risky!"

"Not as much as a werewolf bite in his condition!" Skylar cries. "If he doesn't turn, he'll die!"

"Unless he's secretly a banshee like Lydia?" suggests Scott.

I shake my head. "Impossible. Only women are banshees. Besides, Skylar, you don't know Stiles like I do! He's stronger than he looks! Something you might know a thing or two about!" I add as I struggle to break free of her grip.

"Vampire bites are less traumatic," Skylar says insistently. "You want him to live? Stand aside!"

Hunter clears his throat. "I'd listen to her, Derek. Let her turn him into a vampire, then give him some time to recover and see what he wants next. He'll never be human again, but maybe he'll want to be a werewolf like you?"

I don't want to say I'm losing the fight, but... "How long would that 'time to recover' last?"

"Three weeks, maybe a month," Hunter says with a shrug. Skylar concurs with a curt nod.

I finally get Skylar to let go of me, then I stand aside. "Save him. Please."

Skylar clears everyone else out from around Stiles, then kneels by his side. She extends her fangs, bites her wrist, and allows a generous amount of blood to flow out. That blood goes into Stiles' mouth. It finally gets a reaction from him - he twitches violently several times, but as Skylar lays a hand on his chest, he goes more still, calming down as he drinks her blood.

When he opens his eyes, they flash red for a moment before returning to their normal brown color.

"So..." he drawls, trying to sound cool about it. "When do I grow fangs?"

Scott runs in and embraces his friend, laughing with nothing short of the ultimate sense of relief. As for me, I wait until Skylar's backed away from Stiles, then I reach out and take her hand. "Thank you," I whisper.

She smiles at me, but only for a moment. "Don't thank me yet," she says. "We still have to work out the thorny little issue of how long he can stay a vampire in California in summer."

"We'll cross that bridge later," I say. "For now, though...thank God he's alive."

"Yeah," Skylar says. "Thank God. But if my parents find out about this-"

"They won't."

She shakes her head, laughing lightly as she lets go of my hand. "Derek, you have no idea. My parents scare me more than Deucalion."

"You're kidding."

Skylar's expression doesn't change. She's kidding, right? Right? Please tell me she's just doing what every good young soul does and exaggerating how horrible her parents are.

Whatever. I can't worry about the potential dangers of Mr. and Mrs. Renard Senior right now. We need to get back to town before Sheriff Stilinski starts opening another investigation too supernatural for him and his department to handle.