Season Of The Witch (Stiles Stilinski)

A Not-So-Boring Lacrosse Game

It had been about a week since we ended the dead pool. I was happy, mostly. I mean, life was pretty normal, save for the gnawing feeling in my gut whenever I thought about Kate and the berserkers. Or whenever I thought about Ginny, still yet to leave the hospital due to incredible head trauma.

She woke up from the coma about three days after Stiles and I drove up to the lake house. I was in class when I got the text on my new phone from Melissa. I practically sprinted out of economics, Coach Finstock belligerently screaming at me to come back. Stiles tried to follow suit, but I made him stay behind so that Coach wouldn't have an aneurism with the lack of order in his classroom.

I about cried when I saw her in the hospital bed. It was majorly due to the fact that Ginny, the only person I had left in the world that resembled any sort of a family, was awake and recovering. There were certain things she had trouble comprehending, and almost punched the nearby nurse on call until I sat down and explained what had happened to her.

Safely out of earshot of my newly conscious Guardian, Melissa explained the process of recovery. There were still fractures to the skull that required round-the-clock monitoring, and Ginny would, for the foreseeable future, be prone to fits.

"Fits?" I asked her, scrunching my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, there really is no better word for it," She elaborated, "From what we've gathered, there are significant chunks of memory missing from her recent timeline. There are things she won't remember, and she won't remember why. It can lead to such levels of frustration that she won't know where to release it but outwards."

"And this is completely normal?" I asked her, wringing my hands in worry.

"Entirely. Recovery from brain damage can be tricky in the sense that it varies from person to person. It could lead down to PTE, or anything of that variant, we're really not sure-"

"Epilepsy," I blurted out, "You're talking about Post Traumatic Epilepsy."

Melissa put her hands on my shoulders, and made me look her in the eyes, "June, listen to me. Ginny is going to be fine. In a few weeks we can try another healing potion, see if that helps at all."

"I don't know how to make a potion that can effectively fix brain damage," I told her, my voice growing thick due to the sob dying to escape. "Ginny and I haven't gotten that far yet, will she even remember any of the stuff she has left to teach me?"

Melissa sighed, bringing me in for a hug, "We'll just have to wait with time."

A few more days had passed since then, and the doctor's concluded that despite her significant (and in several doctors' opinions, fatal, as I later found out) brain damage, Ginny was making a miraculous recovery. Her memory fell into place simply by speaking with people, and with Sheriff Stilinski, who filled her in on most of what was going on. She merely had to spend her time in the hospital sleeping, eating, or re-learning several basic functions, like how to say certain words, or how to write again.

                                                                                      *****

I woke up to possibly some of the loudest snores I've ever heard. My eyes fluttered open, and looking up, my nose crinkled in annoyance at Stiles' figure: eyes peacefully shut, and mouth hanging wide open, making sounds that I didn't know could come from him, fill the room. The only thing that made me feel the teensiest bit better was waking up in the warm embrace of his arms, pulling me flush against him in a protective manner.

Lifting my head up, I rolled my eyes in frustration when I glanced over at the alarm clock on Stiles' nightstand. It read a time that was far too early for my liking, and far too late to try and fall back asleep for a little bit longer. It wasn't like I could fall back asleep anyhow, what with Stiles' ridiculous snoring.