DIVINE MOVE ϟ Stiles Mikaelson (BAMF/ TEENWOLF)

IX ϟ V O I D

⟜ ϟ ⟢

C H A P T E R  N I N E: V O I D

HOSPITAL⎮VOID

"He's sleeping now. And he's just fine. He doesn't remember much. It's a bit like a dream to him." Melissa whispered, "I have no clue how he fought all those things off of him, but-" She stopped abruptly as Rafael walked in. 

"You're sposed to be on bed rest, idiot," Melissa growled disapprovingly while gently pushing him from the room. 

"I just wanted to ask Stiles some questions," he tried, trying to escape Melissa's disapproving glares, however, he soon sees that Sheriff Stilinski also occupies the room and he immediately steps back realising that perhaps he was invading their privacy.

He further distances himself from John as John moves forward-"Look, McCall, I wanted to say thank you-" 

Rafe's eyebrows raise before he realised what the Sheriff was thanking him for-"It was that repellent we sprayed in the coyote den to keep other animals out. I couldn't go near it without my eyes watering. It's just a good thing he mentioned it over the phone." McCall interrupted John, and although his tone was gracious, his smug grin was making it harder to say thanks.

"No, it was more than that. Thank you-" Once more he interrupted-" It was a lucky connection."

Scowling the Sheriff stopped him, "McCall, can you shut up please and accept my sincerest gratitude."  McCall nods, "Accepted." 

"I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this. Or if it's not actually a misspelling-" The doctor says absentmindedly as he stares at his clipboard in confusion. "Just call him Stiles," John says, his face scrunching up while his eyes avert themselves to his son.

"What's going on?" Rafael whispers, as Melissa locks eyes with John, worry slowly etching itself across her face. "When he came in yesterday, he was supposed to stay, I found evidence that he could quite possibly have what his mother had."

Claudia Stilinski: Diseased

Patient is irritable, impulsive-

complaints of vivid dreams. Inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality, "acute-

 insomnia."

"Okay. Stiles, just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI-" His voice continued but I paid no mind. As I sat up on the bed, everything seemed surreal and I briefly wondered if once more I was dreaming.

I sit still, my shoulders sagged as the bags beneath my eyes grow darker with every passing second. I feel weak and vulnerable- traits so human that it was beginning to become difficult distinguishing whether I was supernatural or not.

Were these memories or a dream?

"Oh, no, no, I don't need anything," I replied absentmindedly, waving the doctor away as my whitening knuckles clenched across the edge of the bed. 

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window. Okay?" I jumped, startled, quickly realising my fixed hands were flexing the metal of the bed. My eyes danced around the room before meeting with Scott's puppy brown.

"Okay," I whispered, my forehead creasing as his hand clenched around my shoulder, "You know what they're looking for, right?" My hands embrace each other as I squeeze my eyes shut. "It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had." My throat tightens and it feels like I'm suffocating as I speak the following words-"And there's no cure." I told Scott, I felt disoriented, a Vampire couldn't contract diseases, once again I felt beyond human.