Saving Stilinski

Hold Me

Lydia returned to the veterinarian's office to find Deaton and Chris Argent taping a white sheet of paper the size of a school chalkboard to the floor of the waiting area. "We took Stiles to Scott's house," she reported before they could ask.

"How's he doing?" Deaton asked.

Tears sprung to Lydia's eyes but disappeared with one stubborn blink. "Derek said—" She coughed and cleared her throat before continuing. "Derek said that it's j-just like Paige. A little slower, maybe, but..." She shook her head.

"I'm sorry." Deaton's voice softened. "He's a good kid."

"He really is," Lydia said. Her face went slack and her eyes widened slightly as if she'd just realized that fact for the first time.

"Did Scott find Allison?" asked Chris.

"He left when I did. He's going to try the apartment first. Said he'll call."

Chris nodded and returned his focus to the paper. "When the Alphas go to the Hale house I'll go after Allison," he said to Deaton.

Deaton plucked a couple pencils out of a container on the desk. "We might have to get her out before then, for this plan to work."

"You have an idea for the ambush," said Lydia. She tossed her purse aside and joined them on the floor.

Deaton stretched his arm forward to the center of the paper and drew a square the size of a chess board. He began to narrate his sketch: "Let's say that this is the house and here's the tree line." A circle on the outer edge of the paper represented that. "Let's assume that the Alphas will approach the house from all sides. They'll want to corner Scott, so we have to corner them first."

"How?" Lydia asked.

Chris took a pencil and drew a circle around the house, a larger one around the first, and then two more, each getting larger like the layers of a wedding cake. He labeled them A, B, C, and D, then drew four lines that cut the whole picture into eight sections like slices of a pizza. The front door of the Hale house was within the first circle, A, and the first slice, 1. Chris put a star in the section and labeled it A1. Lydia's eyebrows bounced. "Trip wires?" she wondered, pointing to the lines. "Uh... Spider webs?"

"Lines of mountain ash," Argent said. "We'll dig shallow, narrow ditches into the ground no bigger than rain gutters, fill them with mountain ash and cover them with leaves and brush."

"To keep the Alphas out?"

"To keep the Alphas in." Deaton sketched an "x" at each point where a line crossed a circle. "We'll leave a space – no more than 6 inches – open. Once an Alpha gets past that point, a human will fill it in with mountain ash."

"Like on the Titanic," Lydia whispered. The two men looked at her, waiting for an explanation. "When the ship was sinking there were doors that sealed off each compartment as it filled up with water. You're going to seal the Alphas in each circle."

"We," Chris corrected. "We need everyone's help on this, Lydia. Not only to make the lines but to break them if one of our team gets trapped."

Lydia stretched her forefinger forward and landed on the center of the "pizza," right in the middle of the house. "And once you get them sealed inside... then what?"

•••

Stiles puked for almost ten minutes straight. Every minute or so he was able to catch his breath and adjust his position over the trash can before it began again. There was nothing for Scott and Derek to do but wait. Scott sat beside him on the edge of the bed rubbing comforting circles against his back. Derek held the can still by folding his hands over Stiles,' who gripped the rim. Finally, when Stiles was empty and the dry heaves had run their course, he groaned low in his throat and collapsed forward.

"Shit—" Derek managed to set the trashcan aside and catch Stiles before he face-planted into the floor. "Stiles – hey!" He cradled the teen against his chest and instantly began to sweat from the fever coming off him.

Scott knelt on the carpet and leaned towards them. His eyes closed, Stiles reached blindly for his best friend and Scott gripped his hand tight. "Stiles?" Scott whispered.

"Hurts," Stiles hissed through clenched teeth. "God, Scott, it hurts."

Derek's chin quivered briefly. He put his hand on Stiles' chest and started to draw the pain out of him. Stiles flinched, though, and nudged the hand aside. "Don't," he whispered.

"Stiles—"

"Don't bother... I'm dying..."

Derek looked up at the ceiling so that Stiles wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"Just hold me," Stiles pleaded, settling his cheek against Derek's heart and squeezing Scott's hand. "Just hold me."

Derek realized, with a sharp flash of déjà vu, that he held Stiles the exact way he held Paige right before she died.

Right before she begged him to kill her.

"Man, your heart is loud." Stiles winced and lifted his head off of Derek's chest. He ripped his hand out of Scott's and plugged his ears tight. "Calm it down, Derek – it's so – it's so loud!"

"You can hear his heartbeat?" Scott asked. When Stiles flinched from the noise, he whispered, "Stiles, can you hear mine?"

Stiles' hands fell into his lap. "Yeah," he mumbled. "And I hear another one downstairs. Somebody's whispering... praying..." Stiles frowned as he listened. "Isaac?"

Scott and Derek exchanged shocked looks. "If he's not turning into a werewolf—" Derek began.

"...then why can he hear like one?" Scott asked.

"Do you guys smell that?" Stiles muttered. His left hand started to shake and his eyes dilated. "Smells like – is something burning?"

"What—"

The seizure hit like an earthquake. Both Derek and Scott had witnessed seizures before, but nothing like this. Stiles' body vibrated so fast that their werewolf eyes could barely keep up. When his limbs struck out, out of his control, they were so strong that both Scott and Derek were knocked aside. Isaac appeared at the bedroom door, summoned by Stiles' deafening scream of pain. All three heard bones snap, smelled fresh blood, heard Stiles' heartbeat quadruple in speed. And then, as suddenly as it began, the episode was over. Ninety seconds had passed like ninety minutes. Stiles lay flat on his back in the center of the floor heaving for breaths.

Stiles opened his eyes – eyes that were bright, rose-petal-on-fire RED.