The Sicilian Defence [Derek Hale]

Chapter Forty-Eight

"I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this... or if it's not actually a misspelling..." Dr. Vandenberg said as he looked down at Stiles records. Me, him, the doctor, Noah, Scott, and Melissa were stood in the room which had the MRI scanner in and Stiles was going to go in it. We knew what they were looking for. They were looking to see if he had dementia like his mother had, and we all had to pray that he didn't.

"Just call him Stiles," Noah cut in, growing impatient with people always making the same boring old comment on Stiles' full name.

"Okay. Stiles, just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It's due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want, we can get you earplugs or headphones..."

"Oh, no. No, I don't need anything," Stiles assured and my heart bled for him. He knew full well what it was and anyone could tell that he was absolutely terrified.

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window, okay?" Melissa assured, and he nodded forcing a smile on his face.

"Okay."

Melissa and Noah walked out, and Stiles looked down to his feet, "you know what they're looking for, right?It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers... and there's no cure."

"Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something," Scott assured, that was it. If this went the way we thought it was going to be then Stiles would become a werewolf. "I'll do something." The pair stepped in for a hug and I knew Noah and Melissa would either be talking about it or watching it carefully. It was difficult on everyone.

Once Scott parted I threw myself in there, wrapping my arms around Stiles, "you stay alive, okay?" I urged, and he nodded as I pulled away. "I'll be needing my chess buddy."

Stepping out of the room, I brought my hand up to my mouth trying to find something to distract myself with. We already knew that the worse case scenario would result in Scott turning him into a werewolf and yeah, it sucked. But he'd be alive and that's all we needed. We needed him to be alive.

"Okay, Stiles... This will take about forty-five minutes to an hour. Now, remember, try not to move-" the doctor called out, through the microphone that acted as a PA system for the room Stiles was in, "even a little bit. Stiles, you're going to hear that noise now. It's going to be a loud clanging-- kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

Being hit with the familiar scent, I looked to the door to see Derek stood by the window gesturing for me and Scott to leave. Or just Scott, but I was going anyway. Grabbing onto Scott's sleeve, I tugged him out of the room with myself.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, and Scott began talking not even letting anyone answer my question.

"You know the stuff you were telling me about chemo-signals earlier? It reminded me of the time you were teaching me to use anger to control the shift."

Derek smiled slightly as he thought about it, "I think you ended up teaching me more about that..."

"Are you teaching me again?" Scott asked.

"Think of it as sharing a few trade secrets," he mused, "you know, I took Cora back to South America, right? It's where she spent most of her time after the fire. But that's not the only reason I left... I needed to talk to my mother." My brows furrowed at that fact. She was dead. She was very much dead so how had he spoke to a dead woman?

"Your dead mother?" Scott asked.

Derek nodded, continuing like it was the most basic thing, "she told me something that changed my perspective on a lot of things. She said that my family didn't just live in Beacon Hills-- they protected it. This town needs someone to protect it. Someone like you."