girl almighty // s. stilinski [1]

la famille

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Scott rushes to the hospital.

He takes Derek's Toyota, barely paying attention to the traffic laws as he speeds toward Beacon Hills Memorial. The newly turned alpha runs through the emergency entrance with her limp in his arms, and he is immediately escorted to lay her down on a gurney. He watches as the doctors wheel her through the maze of hallways the hospital has to offer, running his hands through his hair.

The boy takes a seat in one of the chairs, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing Stiles' number. He knows Stiles will want to know about Bea.

"Scott?" Stiles answers frantically.

"Hey, are you okay?" Scott asks, wanting to check to make sure everyone is okay.

"Yeah, we're okay. Everyone here is okay. Are you okay?"

"Sort of," Scott mutters, glancing down the hallway Bea was just wheeled down.

"How's Bea? Is she okay? Can I talk to her? Where is she?" Stiles fires off, one question after another.

"I brought her to the hospital. She lost a lot of blood because of Jennifer. She's going into surgery right now," Scott rushes out.

"Surgery?!" Stiles exclaims, causing Scott to pull the phone away from his ear. "I need to get there right now. Get over to the cellar with a ladder. We're still trapped in here."

The new alpha gives a short yes in response before jumping up from his seat and racing to Derek's car in the parking lot. He makes it to the Preserve in record time. The feat of getting all the parents and teenagers out from the cellar proves to take little time, and then they are racing back to the hospital in Derek's car, all of the crammed inside.

Stiles is a mess as he bursts through the hospital doors, rushing to the main reception desk. Scott and Noah follow close behind, but since it has only been a maximum of thirty minutes, the girl is not yet out of surgery.

"Bea Knight," Stiles announces to the receptionist, tapping his long fingers rapidly against the counter.

"Are you family?" the woman asks, her bored eyes glued to the blue screen of the computer.

"Yes, I'm her foster brother, Stiles Stilinski," he offers, though cringing at the words leaving his mouth. Referring to himself as her brother makes him feel strange, and he has to remind himself they are not actually siblings and there is nothing wrong with how they feel about each other.

"She's still in surgery. You can take a seat in the waiting room on the third floor. I'll let the doctor know you are here," the woman explains with a small smile.