Supernatural Law (Derek Hale)

Magic Bullet

Madeleine had always been a fan of action movies. She loved rom-coms and thrillers with intriguing, if not sometimes cheesy, plots, but she had a secret love for movies with no substance other than violence. They usually started out with a semi-interesting backstory, a few rough fight scenes leading up to a romantic confession, and a final epic battle ending in bloodshed but justice for the main character. They were a bit of a guilty pleasure, considering Madeleine saw herself as more of an intellectual than that, but she couldn't resist a good action film. One of her all-time favorites was Die Hard. 

She also had never been a very squeamish person, thanks to her action movies and anatomy classes in college. She started out as a Human Biology major and even got to examine a cadaver. What she was met with downstairs, however, was a whole new kind of squeamish. 

Derek was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over his arm which was now sporting a particularly nasty bullet wound. It was a strange mix of purple, blue, and black in color, and the wound was slightly steaming. Derek's veins surrounding the wound were dark red, and she could tell he was in an unusual amount of pain. 

"Holy shit Derek, what happened?" Madeleine rushed over to him when she got down the stairs. 

"I was shot," he breathed. "One of the Argents." 

"We need to get you to a hospital!" Madeleine grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter. 

"No! They can't help me. This isn't a normal bullet wound." Derek grunted in pain. 

"What is it then?"

"Laced with wolfsbane. I'm not gonna last very long if I can't get my hands on the bullet." His jaw clenched as he struggled to suppress a groan. 

"What can I do to help?" 

"I need to find Scott, you have a job to get to." Derek stood up with great effort, beads of sweat lining his hairline. He looked like he was about to pass out, the color draining from his skin a little bit every second. 

"No way, I'm calling my boss. I'll help get you to Scott." Derek tried to protest but Madeleine had already dialed Michael Whittemore. "Hey, Michael? Yeah, I'm home sick. I think it's the flu." 

-

Derek didn't want to go find Scott until after school was let out, despite all of Madeleine's protest, so the two spent the day in the living room. Madeleine tried desperately to help Derek, giving him water, dabbing his face and neck with a cool washcloth, and wrapping the bullet wound, but to no avail. Her attempts to stop his bleeding were futile and he worsened by the minute. 

"Derek, we need to get you to Scott," she begged. "You're scaring me."

He coughed painfully, with a small spatter of blood. "What time is it?"

"3. C'mon, we need to go."

"Fine," he grunted, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Can you help me stand?"

It took all of Madeleine's strength to wrap her arm around Derek and support his weight as they walked to the car. She felt a little pathetic at how weak she was, but loved how strong Derek was. She selfishly hoped the wound wouldn't deter Derek's arm workouts. 

They got to the school a few moments later, and Derek led Madeleine down the hallway. She noticed Jackson standing at his locker and abruptly stopped. 

"Derek," she hissed. "That's my boss's son! I can't let him see me." Derek trudged over to Jackson as Madeleine ducked around the corner, peeking her head out to keep an eye on the two. A few moments later, Derek continued walking past Jackson and Madeleine silently cursed. Thankfully, Jackson went the opposite way, giving Madeleine a clear path to Derek.