Fangs ⊰ d. hale ᴮᴼᴼᴷ¹

⊰three⊱

The following day started out pretty quiet. 

When I had woken up, both my father and brother were gone. That meant I had the house to myself to catch up on some cleaning that apparently they both had just decided not to do.

I also some time out of the day to make a run to the store for some food. When I started cleaning, my nose crinkled at the amount of dust collecting on the surfaces in the living room.

Cleaning off the dust, coughing and sneezing when it flew up into my nose, made me think of my mom, which really saddened me. If she had been here, she'd be shaking her head at my father's lack of housekeeping and laughing at me coughing and wheezing.

I sighed, my hearing picking up the sound of my phone ringing from upstairs.

I rushed up to my bedroom and snatched my phone off of the bedside table. "Holy shit, school's out already?" I asked Stiles, putting the phone to my ear with a huff.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Uh, yeah, Sarah." I furrowed my eyebrows together at the sound of his voice, "What'd you do, sleep all day or something?" he asked me. 

I raised an eyebrow although I knew he couldn't see me. "Everything okay, little bro?" I asked him. 

"Uh, no," he sighed. "For some crazy ass reason, Derek wanted me—"

"I told you to stay away from him!" I shrieked at my brother. I face-palmed in annoyance. My brother never listens to what I tell him. Well, he never listens to anyone, really. 

Honestly, it's amazing that Stiles made it to the age of 16 with that under-developed, yet still crazy smart, brain sitting in that skull of his. The kid has made enough bad decisions to kill both him and Scott ten times over, and, yet, here he is, 16 years later, alive and never learning his lessons.

"Uh, yeah, okay, I know you did—and I definitely planned on listening to you because I hate the guy—but listen to me. He wanted me to call you for some insane reason," Stiles told me. 

I raised an eyebrow again. "Why the hell would he want—"

"Sarah?"

The voice over the phone was different now. Deeper and not my brother's.

I growled. "So, help me, Derek Hale, if you harm one hair on my brother's head—"

He cut me off—again. I hate that shit. "Relax, Stilinski. If I wanted to hurt him, I would've already." My bottom lip curled up into a snarl, a growl escaping my throat. I was going to kill him just for saying that. "Unfortunately, I need him and Scott. And I kind of need your help, too."

The more that I listened to him speak, the more I noticed that he didn't actually sound like he was in the best of health. 

"What's wrong with you? You sound like you're dying," I mused. 

He huffed. "That's because I am. Remember the howling and gunshots we heard last night?" he started. 

I put one hand on my hip and stared out of my bedroom window, visualizing a life that didn't include one Derek Hale any longer. "What about them?" I asked him, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

"Well, I followed them and it led me to the Alpha. I chased after him, but ended up getting shot by a hunter," he explained. 

I gulped and dropped my hand from my hip so that it dangled at my side. I knew all too well about hunters. 

While I hated the man that was probably holding my brother hostage right now and wished for his death, being taken out by a hunter was something I wouldn't wish on even the Alpha that's running around Beacon Hills killing people.