Payment (revised)

Chapter 9

The voice was deeper than his father's, and was too gruff to be anyone but Derek.

The boy inhaled slowly.

'You're smart Stiles. So tell me, what's the first thing you're supposed to do when someone's been shot.'

Almost immediately, the answer came to him.

"Pressure," Stiles whispered to himself, "apply pressure."

He blinked open his eyes, not remembering when they had closed. The sight in front of him became more tolerable the more he focused.

Stiles knew what to do.

He moved Scott's body into a more comfortable position, and placed his hands on the brunette's body.
Warm, sticky blood oozed from the wound as Stiles pressed down. The boy swallowed back the bile, refusing to be sick again.

He had to keep his cool long enough for someone to get here.

"Help," Stiles croaked.

That wasn't nearly loud enough.

He cleared his throat.

"Help..."

Louder.

"Help.."

Again.

"Help me!"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Help me!"

Derek's ears pricked. It was early in the evening and he was in his office when he first heard the plea for aid. With each new cry, the voice became dreadfully familiar.
A chill crawled up the Alpha's spine.

Stiles was in danger, and that spelled trouble for his pack.
So far into Derek's career one would think cries of help and haunted voices wouldn't bother him.
Normally they didn't, but nothing about his relationship with Stiles was normal.

"Please, someone. Help me, god dammit!"

There it was again, the echo of Stiles's voice ringing throughout the building.
It was clear the boy was losing his patience. Losing his mind sounded more accurate.

Shit.

Derek was out of his chair, grabbing his gun, and running for the hallway. Stiles's howls seemed to be coming from Scott and Isaac's floor. It was enough of a lead to get the Alpha chasing his way up stairs, and through hallways to get to the couples room. Stiles's voice a beacon in the night.

When Derek got to the door, he was troubled to find it had been forced open. With his instincts on high alert, the Alpha carefully made his way past the entryway to scan the inside. Not finding Stiles anywhere.

The light from the bathroom illuminated the rest of the bedchamber, and frantic breathing came with it. It was cause enough for him to move quickly, ignoring the broken furniture and blood spatter until he was outside the bathroom door.
Derek put his back against the wall and cocked his gun. He took a calming breath to ready himself for whatever he would walk into. Then Derek turned sharply into the bathroom pointing his weapon, ready to shoot. Only to find Stiles pressing down on Scott's shoulder frantically. Derek came to a stop. The sight of the boy's panic inherently wrong in the otherwise spotless room.

Stiles was covered head to toe in Scott's blood, his face looked ashen with fear. That's all it took for the Alpha to spring into action once more.

Derek thrust his gun onto the counter before dropping to his knees besides Stiles.
He wanted to replace the boy's shaking hands with his steady ones, but Stiles wouldn't let him.

"I'm sorry...my fault.... pressure...help," Stiles kept murmuring those words over and over, refusing to be moved from his spot.