Chapter 13 - Luck and an Amputation

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Stiles' Jeep thrummed with vibration as it moved along the roads of beacon hills. A perfect match for my own body as I thrummed with anxiety.

I was currently cradling a dying werewolf as Stiles all people drove us to wherever he hibernated. Maybe my therapist should just up my dosage to lethal.

It didn't help that all Stiles did was yell at me to 'just keep him alive', as if that wasn't obvious, and what the hell was I supposed to do?

After all, It's been an hour of Stiles trying to reach Scott, with no luck.

Until there was luck.

Scott finally picked up, though only as Derek started gripping me like he was in incredulous pain, which I imagined he was. I'd taken to awkwardly massaging his back, the large muscular back of the guy who I totally didn't have sex dreams about.

Stiles turned back from the front seat of the jeep. "You're not going to believe where he's telling me to take you."

Why did I feel like this was about to be a cruel joke? Probably because Stiles looked like he was about to start giggling

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After Derek yelling at Scott to find the bullet, and telling Scott he'd found the bullet, thank Gaga, Stiles had taken us to a goddamn veterinary clinic. If I wasn't the one propping Derek up as he stumbled into the building, I might've laughed.

Derek flicked a light switch, illuminating the Sterile room. So, not a bad choice I guess.

Derek pulling his shirt over his head definitely didn't make me blush, but his now yellow arm and creepy black veins did make me gag. Im sure he was used to that reaction a lot.

"Well, that doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of." I was actually thankful for Stiles debilitating need to lighten the mood with humour right now.

"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." Derek was rightfully panicked.

"Theres got to be some sort of drug around here, even if its dog medicine" I probably wasn't helping as I rooted through drawers and shelves of different bottles, but Derek gave me a look of appreciation at least. Or was that pity?

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time... last resort." Why was he looking right at me? And what was the last resort for fatal poison's?

He must've found what he was looking for, even as I clumsily knocked around bottles of probably expensive medications. I was too distraught to care about the fact that I'd probably go back to jail for breaking into Scott's work like a crackhead.

A hand on my shoulder stopped me from spiralling any further, which would only be temporary, as he pulled out some type of bone saw.

"You're going to cut off my arm."

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Fabric ripping broke the heavy silence of the room, as I tore a piece of cloth I'd found lying around and tied it around Dereks arm as a tourniquet, and accidentally tightening until Derek winced. I wasn't thinking straight as I prepared to amputate the arm of a man in a veterinary clinic.

Not a surgery room, Not a patient, Not a doctor. This was going to go bad. But how could I not?

"What if you bleed to death?" Stiles asked, a very good question that I couldn't answer, because I wasn't a doctor.

"It'll heal. If it works." Dereks eyes following me as I attempted to gather everything I'd need for the DIY amputation

"Lay back" I simply ordered Derek.

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