Saving Stilinski

Four Druids

Scott was used to seeing his friends hurt. How many times had he seen Derek covered in blood or Isaac nursing broken bones? Jackson, Cora, Allison, Boyd, Erica, Lydia, Danny, everyone else had been stabbed, paralyzed or hospitalized at one point or another. But, somehow, seeing Stiles unconscious, feverish, and bleeding from an Alpha's claws, that affected Scott more than anyone else ever had. He felt nauseous, dizzy. His heart ached. Part of him wanted to put his forehead on Stiles' chest and cry, part of him wanted to slit Kali's throat.

"I'm so sorry I got you in the middle of this," Scott whispered to his friend. "But I'll get you out. I promise." The beta peeled Stiles' cross country uniform up to his chin. He placed one palm on his friend's stomach and the other beneath his spine. The movement strained the mirror wounds on Scott's body and Allison and Lydia gasped when he started to bleed, too. Scott concentrated like Deaton had taught him; focused on sucking the pain from Stiles' body like a milkshake through a straw. Half a minute later the veins on his hands blushed black. Dark currents flowed from Stiles to Scott.

Two minutes later, Stiles opened his eyes and blinked up at his best friend. "Dude..." he whispered, "did you just heal me?"

Scott smiled fondly. "I wish," he said. "The pain – is it bearable?"

Stiles' fingers probed his side and though he winced, he didn't cry out. "Better... feels better..."

Scott helped Stiles sit up. He sat beside him, both of their backs against the cave wall. Isaac began to stir, and the girls went to help him. Scott noticed, then, that although there was dried blood on his body, the actual mystery cut from his own bellybutton to spine had completely disappeared.

"Boyd," Stiles whispered, "he's dead. Boyd's dead."

"I know," said Scott. "I found him."

"Everyone else... is everyone else okay? Derek?"

"I hope so." Scott sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

Stiles massaged the bridge of his nose. "I tried to help Boyd but I couldn't. Helpless. I was so damn helpless. And they used me as bait to get you in this woods. Scott...?"

Scott looked sidelong at his friend.

"I don't like being helpless. At the end of the day all I really am is a burden to you, to Derek..."

Scott frowned. "Stiles—"

"I just wish..." Stiles hugged his wounds and took a long, steadying breath. His eyes unfocused and when they refocused they landed on the Darach's crate. "Sometimes I wish I had my own powers..."

•••

Derek folded his arms against his chest and paced between two trees. "Anytime now!" he growled at his uncle.

Peter dropped down from a tree branch, splashing mud across his nephew's boots. "I think I see a cave about a hundred yards away. Maybe they're holed up in there."

"Worth a look," Derek agreed. He followed Peter down the hill. The two Hale's approached the cave with their noses on high alert. Derek sensed, right away, that Stiles' fear hung in the air. He was close.

"Wait," Peter said, his hand on Derek's shoulder, "I'll go in first."

This shocked Derek more than Peter's offer to help, but he consented and let Peter enter the cave ahead of him. His uncle stepped through, then instantly bounced back. "Or I won't go in at all," Peter sighed. He pointed down at the line of mountain ash guarding the entrance.

Derek walked up to the line. "Is someone trying to keep us out or keep something in?"

"Derek?"

The two werewolves heard something squeaking and grinding. Derek squinted and saw Scott and Isaac come out from behind a big wooden crate. Allison followed and after a nod from Scott, she kicked a hole through the mountain ash. Derek sprinted in. "Where's Stiles?"