Little Wolf (The Youngest Sequel)

Chapter Quinze

After school, Scott told Stiles to take Kylie and follow him to Deaton's, as he wanted to go over the plan for the rave. Once they arrived, Scott picked his sister up, and they knocked on the door. Deaton welcomed them in and led them to the back. The vet opened his medicine cabinet, retrieving a syringe pump and a drug bottle for them to see.

"Ketamine?" Stiles asked, squinting at the label.

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage," Deaton explained, setting it down for Scott to pick up. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time. And this," he continued, holding out a small container, "is what you'll use to create the barrier. Stiles, this part is for you—only you."

"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure," Stiles muttered, nervously taking the container. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?"

Scott shot him a look, and Stiles caught his eye, his expression clearly saying, 'What?'

"It's from the mountain ash tree," Deaton explained, "which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with ashwood, which makes it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."

"Okay, so what? I just spread this around the whole building, and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?" Stiles asked, still not entirely convinced.

"They'll be trapped," Deaton confirmed.

Scott adjusted Kylie on his hip as she was slipping slightly. "Doesn't sound too hard," he said, trying to reassure Stiles.

"That's not all there is to it," Deaton added. "Think of it like gunpowder—it's just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles."

Stiles looked uneasy. "If you mean light myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that," he said, half-joking but with a tinge of genuine fear.

Kylie tilted her head, looking at Stiles with wide eyes. "But wouldn't you burn then?"

Scott chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "He won't light himself on fire, Ky. Right?"

Deaton smiled, sensing the need for a clearer analogy. "Let me try a different approach. I used to golf. The best golfers never swing before first imagining exactly where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind, and then their body takes over. It's about the power of your intent. The force of your will can be pretty extraordinary, Stiles."

Stiles stared at the container of mountain ash in his hand, taking in Deaton's words. "Force of will," he repeated quietly, almost as if he were convincing himself.

"If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it," Deaton said, emphasizing the importance of his mental state.

Scott and Kylie watched as Stiles took a deep breath. He looked up at Deaton, nodding slowly. "Alright. Force of will. I got this," he said, his voice gaining confidence.

Deaton gave an encouraging nod. "I believe you do, Stiles."

The jeep pulled into the parking lot, the headlights briefly illuminating the surrounding darkness. Scott and Stiles climbed out, and Scott carefully lifted Kylie from the back seat, cradling his sister in his arms. Stiles had been oddly quiet the entire drive, his usual snarky demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic silence.

"You okay?" Scott asked, glancing at his best friend.

Stiles looked up, his face blank for a moment before he forced a smile. "Yeah, why?"

Scott shrugged, his eyes narrowing in concern. "You just didn't say anything the whole way here."

Kylie, ever the observant child, looked at Stiles with her wide, innocent eyes. "You're never silent," she added, her voice soft but full of certainty.