Gather The Ashes || Stilinski || Book Three

Thirty-Eight

SIERRA WOKE UP WITH A PAIN IN HER NECK.

A groan escaped her as she forced her eyes open, the bright lights making her squint. Her back felt stiff and her legs were numb from falling asleep on tile floor, and when she looked up she recognized Stiles's bathroom.

The boy was still passed out beside her, his head resting on her thigh. His face looked flush and there were tear-stains on his cheeks. His hand was holding hers tightly, his eyebrows furrowed together.

After Scott's phone call, Stiles had another panic attack. Sierra, luckily, was able to calm him down once more and cleaned the bite on his shoulder so it wouldn't get infected. However, Stiles remained pretty shaken and Sierra had just offered to talk about random things to keep him from trembling, leading him to eventually fall asleep on the bathroom floor.

"Stupid florescent lights," Sierra grumbled, dragging her hand down her face tiredly to get herself to wake up more. Her eyes landed on Stiles, her expression immediately softening. "Hey, honey," she ran her fingers through his thick, brown hair and shook his shoulder. "Time to wake up, bub."

Stiles reluctantly opened his eyes, a yawn falling from his lips. But as soon as memories of the night before came flooding back, he freaked out. He sat up abruptly from not recognizing his surroundings, and his breaths became shallow.

"Hey, you're okay, Stiles," she assured him, gently squeezing his hand. "We're just in your bathroom."

Stiles sighed with relief, his body relaxing at her touch. "What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Unfortunately, time to get ready for school," she informed him and watched his face crumble. Sierra added, "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I just...I can't face them--not today," he whispered, keeping his head in his hands. "I can't face Scott."

"Scott is not going anywhere," Sierra promised. "Stiles, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I killed Donovan," he muttered, casting his eyes to the ground. "I crossed the line we all swore we never would cross."

Sierra took two fingers and lifted his chin towards her. "You didn't cross anything," she stated sternly. "Okay? You acted in self-defense and everyone, including Scott, will understand. Stiles, he would've killed you...and if he had..."

Sierra paused to press a kiss right between his eyes and kept her forehead against his.

"I don't know what I would do," she concluded. "I know you're scared, honestly I'd be more concerned if you weren't, but you have to have faith that everything will be alright in the end. Your head is telling you that you're actions were justified, which they were...but your heart thinks it was murder. You just need your head to catch up with your heart."

"How do I do that?" he asked her, his voice cracking.

"It starts with telling Scott," Sierra suggested quietly. "He's our best friend, Stiles. He deserves to know the truth."

"I know," Stiles let out a breath. "I will tell him, I promise, but just--not right now. Please."

Sierra agreed and offered him a small smile. "How about you just stay home and rest today, yeah? I'll  bring you some hot tea before I go to school."

Stiles nodded, accepting her hand that she held out. The two stood up together, keeping their fingers intertwined. "What're you going to tell everyone else?"

"Just that you're sick," Sierra shrugged her shoulders. She faced him when they reached the foot of his bed and frowned from seeing his pale skin. "Which, I think you may be actually," she said, feeling his forehead. "You're a little warm."