Wicked Witchcraft (Stiles Stilinski)

All Three Gone

"Jesus, June! What the-"

"Derek?!" I slapped Derek again, ignoring Stiles' questioning of my methods.

"Derek, C'MON!" I slapped him again, and again. He wasn't moving.

"Hang on, let me try!" Stiles said, and he raised his hand. At the last minute, Stiles curled his hand into a fist, and brought it down, only to be caught by the lightning reflexes of a now conscious Derek.

"Oh, thank god," I sighed out.

Derek looked around at the elevator we were still in, "Where is she?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"Who, Jennifer?" I replied, "Gone, with Scott's mom."

"She took her?"

"Yeah, and if that's not enough of a kick to the balls," Stiles added, "Scott left with Deucalion. Okay, so we gotta get you out of here. The police are coming right now, and we gotta get you the hell out of here." Together, Stiles and I hoisted Derek up onto his feet.

"Whoa," Derek paused, "What about Cora."

"She's with Isaac and Peter. Isaac took them and the Argents to the opposite end of the hospital away from the main entrance and the alphas," I explained. "Right now, they're waiting for you to go and get Cora. No go, we'll take it from here." Derek nodded at me and left without another word.

Oddly enough, I felt a sense of calm as soon as the police walked through the doors. Even though to everyone else it was still a hectic evening, I couldn't help but think that we were entering the calm before the storm. The police guided us to a set of chairs leaning against the wall after Stiles and I told them we were stuck in the elevator. When I sat down, it felt like it was the first time I had ever sat down in my life.

The events of tonight caught up to me, and I was feeling the effects properly since the adrenaline in my system faded. My back was sore and surely bruised from when I collided with the wall Jennifer threw me into. My throat was aching, and I felt like my neck had swollen to three times its normal size. The bruising was tender, and I could hardly turn my head without flinching in pain. I hadn't even noticed the small cuts around my wrists from when I struggled against the tape that kept me to the chair. All I really wanted to do was go home and collapse on my bed, but I knew that sleep was not in the near future for me.

As I was sitting there, I saw Stiles agitatedly shift in his seat. I looked over to him, and heard him mutter, "Just perfect."

I was going to ask him what was wrong, when an FBI agent walked over to us.

"A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess, what a shocker," My eyes widened, appalled at this guy's attitude. It was clear that both Stiles and this man had been acquainted before. The agent looked over to me, "Who're you, again?"

I glanced over at Stiles, "Uh- June Child."

The man nodded and without so much as a 'nice to meet you,' he turned back to Stiles, "Think you can answer a few questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

Stiles kept eye contact, "If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid," He responded without missing a beat. I stood corrected, this FBI guy and Stiles were more than acquainted, there was definite history.

The man smiled in a kind of 'I don't have time for this' way. "Where's your dad? And why has no one been able to contact him?"

"I don't know I haven't seen him for hours," Stiles replied.

"Is he drinking again?" I sat up straighter in my chair. This guy had no respect for boundaries.

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows, "Again, what do you mean again? He never had to stop?"