Demons - Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 10: Hospital

The smell of hospitals has never been particularly comforting. Most people associate it with sickness or that one time they broke their arm falling out of a tree. I associate it with fear. The last time I had been in the ER was because I had fallen off my board in front of the Stilinski house and twisted my ankle. I wasn't hurt badly, but Claudia had been concerned that I had sprained or broken it and had driven me in her Jeep to the ER. She was a wonderful woman. That night I had been in the worse pain of my life (well up until that day anyway) when my father found out. It's the only lesson he's ever managed to beat into me.

The small hard chair is uncomfortable, and my posture is painfully straight as I sit staring at the floor with my legs crossed and arms folded in my lap. My black worn boot bobs and I wait impatiently for news on the injured lacrosse captain. Lydia sits next to me subconsciously twirling her hair as she speaks with someone on her Bluetooth. We had been here a couple of hours waiting to hear about Jackson's condition. Before we left, I had asked Isaac to tell Father where I was if he asked. He likes Jackson and Lydia, He thinks they're too stupid or self-involved to notice anything is wrong.

My stomach twists with worry for the injured boy, the only sounds filling the air is the squeak of the shoes as nurses wander passed and the clack of the keyboard at the reception desk. Felling the need to do something other than sit and fret I stand and mumble, "I'm gonna go get something from the vending machine."

Lydia doesn't acknowledge my words, too engrossed in her conversation to notice my departure. The vending machines reside in a small nook down a short hallway just off the waiting area. It is far enough that you could no longer see the waiting room, but you could still faintly hear any conversations that may be occurring.

The machine, though fully stocked, had a rather dismal selection of off-brand candy bars and chips, sighing I insert a slightly crumpled dollar bill from my back pocket and select a plain chocolate bar. The wires holding the bar in place rotate slowly before releasing the chocolate and letting it drop with a light thud. Retrieving my bar, I slowly make my way back towards the waiting room to continue dwelling in my worry.

Turning into the depressing room, I notice a new addition sitting just around the corner from the seemingly unconcerned strawberry blonde girl staring blankly at a pamphlet about menstruation.

Quickening my steps I approach the boy. "You know," He jumps at the sudden sound of my voice, "If you wanted to know about that you just had to ask."

He closes the pamphlet quickly and looks at the cover, pink slowly spreading across his cheek as he gawps in embarrassment. Stuttering out some syllables not able to correctly form a sentence he throws the pamphlet onto the coffee table to his left as though burning his hands.

I giggle and plop down beside him. "I know you're not here to make sure Jackson is ok. So, what brings you here?" I question raising an eyebrow and plopping down on the seat beside him. I lean forward onto the armrest between the chairs. His breathing catches in his throat.

"Um...," he diverts his eyes from me, "Scott thinks he's found the body. He smelled blood when he went to confront Derek about Allison so he's going to see if the blood matches the half that's here." His words hushed and rushed together, preventing anyone else hearing the insane words that were leaving his mouth.

"Scott can smell blood?" I question, worry rising in my chest. If Scott smells my blood, then he'll surely find out. And he won't be as easily dissuaded as Jackson is. He wants everyone to be happy and healthy. He wants to save everyone from their problems.

"Yeah. But that's not really the point. If Derek buried that girl, then he probably killed her and bit Scott," Stiles mutters turning to me and looking into my face.

"What are you planning to do? Dig up the body?" I scoff, looking as he once again diverts his eyes, my expression scrunches in disbelief. "Stiles, tell me you are not going to dig up a body."

"I won't tell you then," he mumbles playing with his hands.

"Stiles..." I am cut off by a frantic Scott quickly running up, panting.

"The scent was the same," he rushes out.

"You sure," Stiles replies ignoring my previous line of questioning, looking at the boy in disbelief.

"Yes."

"So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?" Stiles ponders this, the wheels visibly turning in his head as he devises a scheme in which to uncover the truth without his father, the sheriff, finding out. Not that he's gotten very much past him in the past.

"Which means we have proof he killed the girl," Scott quietly exclaims, excitement embedded in his tone.

A determined look washes over Stiles' face, "I say we use it."

"How?"

"Tell me something first. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game, and he said you couldn't?" Stiles scepticism clear in his words causing me to turn to Scott and raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms, not that he notices

"There are bite marks on the legs, Stiles – bite marks," desperation enters the boy's voice in his attempts to convince the sceptical boy in front of him, flailing his arms subtly.

"Okay, we're gonna need a shovel," a serious look set on Stiles face as he leaps up.

"Wait, shovel! Why do you need a shovel?" I exclaim in a whisper. The pair finally look at me, no longer engrossed in each other.

A smirk spreads across Stiles' face, "If you want to find out, you'll have to come with us." He reached a hand out towards me holding it for me to grab. A mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he stares directly into my soul. I smirk back and begin to move to grab his hand only to be cut off by a strong voice, with an arrogant tinge to it.

"Carter!"

Turning I see Jackson, holding his shoulder gently but clearly not in as much pain as he had been this afternoon. I breathe a sigh of relief as the coil of worry in my stomach relaxes. Looking back at Stiles with an apologetic look, the sparkle in his eyes dulled, "I'm sorry. My dad's expecting me home with Jackson."

"It's alright," his voice barely louder than a mutter, "maybe next time." He turns with Scott and they swiftly left out the double doors.

"What did he want?" Jackson lightly sneers from behind me.

"Nothing," I mutter, longing after the trouble those boys were bound to end up in. "Are you okay? You took quite the hit." Concern rising in my voice as I turn and inspect the boy's shoulder, he waved me off with his unharmed hand.

"Just a separated shoulder. The doctor gave me a shot of cortisone. I think I'll live," his face remained the hard mask it always is while we are in public, but a hint of appreciation leaked into his voice. "Let's get you home before your dad gets back."

He gently pushed me towards the door and put his arm around Lydia. Dread clawed its way up my throat at the mention of my father. It'll be okay. I'm with Jackson. He's probably still at the graveyard.

...I hope.