Saving Stilinski

Marin's Sacrifice

An hour before sunset, the war council, of sorts, assembled in Scott's kitchen. Derek sat at the head of the oval table with the True Alpha on his left and the Optimalpha on his right. Isaac sat beside Stiles, across from Lydia. Deaton sat at the opposite end. Ethan stood behind him with his claws in the back of the Emissary's neck. He gasped at the memory he experienced through Deaton's eyes and when he let go, Ethan stumbled back against the wall with tears in the far corners of his eyes. "Oh my god," he whispered, "it's true."

Lydia retrieved a box of Kleenex and handed it to Deaton. Blood leaked from his wounds but, otherwise, he was all right. "Yes, it is," he said to Ethan. "Deucalion murdered Ennis."

Ethan shook his head like he was trying to dislodge water from his ears. "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it."

"Will the other Alphas believe you?" Chris Argent asked. "If you tell them what really happened will they turn on Deucalion?"

Ethan collapsed into the chair between Deaton and Chris. "They have no reason to trust me right now. Deucalion will deny it, and the others will just assume I'm lying. The only way to prove it would be to let them see the original memory, too."

When Deaton didn't immediately point out how that was too risky, Scott spoke up. "If you go near them they'll rip your head off."

Deaton said nothing, just stared, lost in thought, at some fixed point on the table.

"We're not going to have time for small talk tonight, anyways," said Derek. "This is a showdown. This all ends, tonight."

Stiles scratched absently at the gauze taped to the back of his head. "Oh, come on, this can't be the only epic werewolf fight I get to participate in."

"You? You're not going," Derek stated in a voice that left no room for disagreement.

Stiles did disagree, though. "I'm sorry, what? I've got claws, now, why don't I get to play?"

Derek's nostrils flared. "If what you heard Peter say is right, and you are an Optimalpha that a Darach could sacrifice to get every power he'd ever need, there's no way I'm letting you anywhere near Gerard."

"Just because Peter knew that I'm an Optimalpha doesn't mean that Gerard does."

"We shouldn't take that risk. Right, Scott?" Both Derek and Stiles looked expectantly at Stiles, waiting for him to take a side.

Scott looked back and forth between them. "I think..." He sighed, then took a deep breath. "I don't want Stiles or anyone else to get hurt, but we need all the help we can get. Especially if we're going to save Allison, Cora, and Danny."

"That should be our priority," Ethan growled. "Not avenging Boyd—"

"And Heather," said Stiles.

"And Jennifer," said Derek.

"And Erica," said Isaac.

"Get your revenge later," Ethan said in his "Alpha" voice, "save Danny now."

"He's right," said Chris. "We should treat this like a rescue mission, boys. That means we don't do anything foolish until Allison and the others are safe."

"What if the only way to get them to safety is to do something foolish?" Deaton wondered aloud.

"Like what?" Lydia asked. "We need a plan B, here. And a C and a D."

The silence lasted a solid three minutes. Each person around the table looked at the other. Blank stares were shared, shrugs were exchanged. And then Stiles raised his hand like he had a question in Economics class. "If Gerard's new priority is to kill me so that he can level up or whatever, why don't we just use me as bait?"

Suddenly, Scott and Derek stood up so fast that they rattled the whole table. "What do you smell?" Isaac asked.

"Is that..." Stiles struggled with his new senses. "Is that blood?"

Ethan stood, too. "It's Morrell."

Deaton led the way through the kitchen, the living room and out the front door of Scott's house. Marin's car was parked catty-cornered in the grass. She'd opened the door and appeared to be struggling to push herself out. They all saw why. Wounds from a dozen werewolf claws on her legs and arms bled onto the grass. She stood, finally, pale and shaking. Deaton called her name and she looked up at him, relief on her face. Almost immediately she collapsed onto her side.

Everyone gathered around the half-conscious woman. She started answering questions they hadn't asked yet. "They know," she gasped. "They know about Stiles. Here," Marin held a book out to Deaton, "read this. You have to protect him, Alan, do you hear me? He's more important than Derek, even more important than Scott."

Deaton sat beside his sister and squeezed her hand. "Don't talk, Mare. We'll get an ambulance."

She rolled her eyes. "Alan, for once in your life will you just listen to me?" She pointed at the book. "This belonged to Elyse. I stole it back from Peter. It's all about Optimalphas. It says that an Optimalpha, Alan, is the only thing that can defeat a Demon Wolf."

"Demon Wolf?" said Chris.

"Deucalion," said Derek.

"Stiles." Marin waved him over and he knelt beside her. "You must get strong, Stiles. For your friends, for Beacon Hills. It's up to you to defeat Deucalion." Scott walked up behind Stiles and put his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Marin said to Alan. "This is my fault. I let this get so out of hand, so out of balance. I should've neutralized Deucalion before he got so powerful."

Water hovered in Deaton's eyes. "I should've been there to help you."

"I should've believed you about Ennis."

"Wait, wait – I'm a healer now, right?" Stiles wrapped up Marin's hand in both of his. He shut his eyes, squeezed them, and concentrated on nothing any of them could see. A minute passed, and he cursed. "I can't do it," he apologized. "I can't control – I don't know how to—" Her pain marched up into his veins but he couldn't replace it with anything.

"It's okay." Morrell squeezed Stiles' hands. She looked up at the Twin. "Ethan, you have to divide the rest of the Alphas. You have to convince Aiden that Deucalion killed Ennis."

The Alpha's expression remained stony. "He won't believe me."

"Make him." Blood trickled from between Marin's teeth. She struggled to summon the breath needed to speak. "Ethan, you and your brother feel each other's pain. You have to try to get him to feel your emotions, hear your thoughts, see your memories."

"How?" Ethan's face turned red with frustration. "How do we do any of this?"

Spasms of painful coughs catapulted blood at them. Marin returned her attention to her brother. "I wish I had more answers. I'm sorry, Alan. I'm so sorry."

By the time he said "It's all right, Mare," her heart had stopped. Deaton's bottom lip vibrated. His nose twitched. When he leaned over and kissed her forehead, no one else heard him whisper, "I'll see you soon."