𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | derek hale [ON HOLD]

18 | a b o m i n a t i o n

Third Person POV:

At the animal clinic, Deaton is rushing to treat Scott's wounds as Scott glances between him and the dead man with claw marks down his chest on the metal examination table. Since his scratches were made by an Alpha, they're taking longer to heal.

"They're coming back, so we don't have much time to talk," Deaton tells him as he grabs a bottle.

"What is that?" Scott nods to it.

"Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected, do you?" Deaton stares at Scott, wondering how he works at an animal clinic without knowing the most basic antiseptic there is. "You'll heal the same. Just not as quickly, because of Derek," he explains as he cleans the wound.

"Ok, how do you know all of this?" Scott confusedly accuses. "Actually, how do you know anything?"

"It's a long story," Deaton evades the question. "What I can tell you is that I know about your kind. Your kind, I can help." He puts a bandage on the wound before turning to the guy on the table. Chris had brought the hunter in earlier that week, asking for Deaton's opinion on what might've attacked him. "This is something different."

"Well, do you know what did it?" Scott asks, staring at the marks all down the man's chest.

"No, but the Argents will. And this is the crucial part," Deaton tells Scott. "They'll have some kind of record or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered."

"All the things?" Scott repeats in disbelief. "How many different things are there?" Deaton turns at the sound of a car approaching, the tires skidding on the asphalt of the parking lot.

The front door's bells ring as Chris and Gerard enter the clinic. Scott quickly hides in a nearby storage closet while Deaton moves to stand over the body.

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'closed' sign," Deaton sighs.

"Hello Alan. It's been a while," Gerard steps into the room after Chris. "The last I heard, you had retired."

"Last I heard, you followed a code of conduct," Deaton retorts.

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours," Chris tells him.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just because I'll answer a few questions," Deaton glares.

"He was only 24," Chris angrily states.

"Killers come in all ages," Deaton sends a look at Gerard.

"All ages, sizes, shapes. It's the last one that concerns us," Gerard comments.

"How about you tell us what you found?" Chris suggests, him and his father unaware of Scott listening in.

"See this cut?" Deaton twists the hunter's head to expose his neck and points to a scratch. "Precise. Almost surgical. But this isn't the wound that killed him. This had a more interesting purpose."

"Related to the spine?" Gerard insects the cut.

"That's right. Whatever made this cut was laced with a paralytic toxin potent enough to disable all motor functions," Deaton explains before moving on to the scratches on his chest. "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side?"

"Five for each finger," Chris comments.

"Each claw," Gerard corrects.

"As you can see, it dug in, slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone of the rib cage with ease," Deaton demonstrates the motion with his hands.