I'm so sorry this chapter wasn't up sooner, but I became really busy. You guys are awesome for getting 110 votes, and I love you all!

                                                       Chapter Thirteen

                                                             • Aubrey •

“The Blues Brothers and T.V. dinners― just what I was planning to do tonight,” Lydia said sarcastically. “Can you hurry up the process? I don’t really want to be seen in public with you.”

            I scanned the rows of movies; I hadn’t heard of most of them. “Shut up and enjoy the simplicity.” Benoit used to always tell me that whenever I complained. In his mind, always staying inside of a house where everyone accepted you was an easy life. Of course, nothing about my life was simple.

            She pouted, keeping quiet for a minute. “Okay, are you ready to go now?”

            Laughing under my breath, I asked, “Did you ever learn how to be patient?”

            She glared at me. “The only things I wait for are shoes and the new iPhone.”

            Chuckling, I thought about how normal I felt around Lydia. Unlike Jake, she didn’t focus on that fact that I was a werewolf or talk about the descendant stuff. Instead, she took me shopping and rented movies. She came to me with her simple boy problems and snuck a container of Ben and Jerry’s in the cart when we were shopping for dinner and she thought I wasn’t looking. No, we weren’t friends, but I felt like it wouldn’t be so hard if we were. Well, maybe we already were.

            I made my way to the counter and Lydia paid for the movies. Along with The Blues Brothers, I rented Secondhand Lions and The Notebook― because, according to Lydia, it was the best movie of all time. Not that I really trusted her judgment.

            We were on the road, arguing about hot actors, when it happened. There wasn’t anything I could do to brace myself. Lydia froze, breath leaving her body. Almost like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, she opened the door and jumped out, landing on her feet like it was effortless. She looked back at me, face pale, and screamed. Time seemed to stand still, and I struggled for control of the car. All I saw were trees, and then I was motionless and numb, screams echoing in my ears. When I glanced back, Lydia was gone with just a pile of clothes to signal her disappearance.

            Smoke billowed from the hood of the car, smashed against a tree. I was suddenly, acutely aware of the cold pressing in on me from all sides. I felt so small and alone, so I stayed absolutely still until the pain ripped through me. Biting down on my hand, I refrained from screaming. Of course, all that did was leave a bite mark in my hand. Stupid fangs.

            The sun set and I didn’t blink. Nothing. I did nothing. I should have done something.

            Someone knocks on the window three times. I jump, startled by the sudden noise. I slowly reach over and roll the driver’s side window down; Stiles sticks his head in. “Hey there, kiddo,” he says.

            I shoot daggers from my eyes and draw back into the shadows. “I’m not in the mood, Stilinski.”

            He nods. “Right, you’re PMS-ing.” Suddenly, I’m wishing I had a knife. After all, supernatural creatures technically don’t exist, so I think I get a ‘get out of jail free card’. But then I wouldn’t have a lab partner anymore.

            Silence passes over us, but it doesn’t last long― Stiles quickly says, “Are you okay?” I’m beginning to think he can’t refrain from saying anything.

            I stare at a point directly in front of me, but I don’t see anything. “I don’t know.” The world is spinning and I feel light, like I could fly away. Maybe I’ll become a bird so that I can finally leave forever.

            Suddenly, I’m not in the car anymore and I’m not sitting down. Stiles is next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist, supporting me. He helps me into his Jeep and shuts the door after me. When he gets into the driver’s side and turns the keys in the ignition, I look over at him with raised eyebrows. “Aren’t we going to go findLydia?”

            “She’ll be fine. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

            “Me?”

            He glances at me in disbelief. “We have to get you to the hospital first, Bree. You’re hurt.”

            “What? No, I’m not.” If I’m hurt, wouldn’t I be able to feel it?

            “There’s a gash across your forehead. It’s sort of bleeding a lot. I think I’d consider that an injury.”

            Tenderly, I reach up and touch my temple. A pain shoots through my skull and I wince. Bringing my fingers back down to my face, I see that they’re stained with fresh blood. Now that I actually know I’m wounded, all I can feel is the pain.

            “This sort of thing happens a lot, apparently,” Stiles is saying. “You’ve been in an accident. I think you hit your head on the dashboard when you crashed. Not realizing it could be the result of two things: shock and adrenaline. Obviously, you’re shocked from what happened withLydia. I have my theories as to what’s happening to her, but that’s for another time. Like after I take you to the hospital.”

            I shake my head. “Stiles, I’m fine. I don’t have to go to the hospital. I heal fast.”

            He rolls his eyes. “Look, I get the whole ‘werewolf super healing powers’ thing, but you have a head wound. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

            I’m about to argue again, but the pain stabs me in the head and I stifle a scream. Stiles glances over quickly, his face full of worry. “Fine,” I mutter. “We can go to the hospital.”

            I just won’t enjoy a single second of it.

                                                                  • • •

Stiles returns to where I’m sitting in the lobby of the emergency room, which is surprisingly full. For a small town, people sure get hurt a lot.

            I press my hand to my forehead as he looks at the admission form― it still hasn’t stopped bleeding, which is worrying me. The same thing happened when I was attacked by the kanima, so if my ‘healing powers’ aren’t working properly, then there’s a problem.

            Stiles looks over at me. “Name?”

            I give him a look. “James Bond, obviously.”

            He facepalms. “No, that’s not what I meant. I know your name, just not your last name.” 

            “That would be Hale. As in, Derek’s sister.”

            He rolls his eyes. “Are you going to be difficult all night?”

            I shrug. “It depends on how much you annoy me.” Stiles gives me the death glare. “If you really want to know, my full name is Aubrey Jenner, but she doesn’t exist. Records say that she died when she was eight, along with the rest of her family.” I look down at the dull tiles.

            Stiles reaches out to touch my arm, but pulls back. “I’m so sorry.” He sounds detached.

            I shake my head and look at him, offering a small smile. “Don’t worry; it happened a long time ago. I don’t even remember them that much. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

            Stiles is silent for a minute before he says, “I know what it’s like. My mom died when I was little. Cancer.”

            At least it’s not your fault, unlike me.

            I murmur, “I’m sorry.”

            He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Moving on.” He tries a smile, but I see that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Age?”

            I try to make myself as light as possible, which isn’t hard. My lightheadedness still makes me feel as if I’m floating away. “Two hundred.” He glares at me. “Fine; I’m fifteen.”

            He asks, “Seriously? I thought you were older. You act so mature.”

            Yeah, the threat of imminent death will do that to a person.

            “Because I’m two hundred.”

            He just sighs and scribbles on the hospital form. I bring my fingers back and look at them. There’s still blood. Warmth trickles down and my palm flies up again. Stiles’ eyes flit over and he shrugs his plaid shirt off, leaving him in just an undershirt; he presses the shirt against my forehead gently. I whisper my thanks to him and I glance down at his abdomen, the undershirt hinting at lines of muscles. My breath comes fast and the room seems too hot all of a sudden.

            No, this needs to stop! I’m definitely not supposed to feel like this!

            Stiles seems to interpret this differently, and says, “Hey, you’ll be okay. You’ll heal up soon and be perfectly fine. I know you will.”

            I try and calm down my breathing. I take the shirt from him and he continues writing. I glance over once, and see that he’s put himself as my contact information. Not Derek or Peter or even Isaac, but him. The thought makes me smile, though I don’t know why.

            I feel content, the pain dulling as I soak up the blood with Stiles’ shirt. That is, until he starts talking again.

            “When did you have your last period?”

            My eyes go wide. “STILES!”

            He throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m not being a creep, I swear! It’s on the form! So the faster you answer the question, the faster you’ll be permitted.”

            I can feel the tips of canines protruding. “If you want to keep those pretty hands of yours, I suggest you leave that question blank.”

            He looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. “You think that I have pretty hands?”

            Oh. My. God. Kill. Me. Now.

            I use the shirt to cover the rest of my face. My voice sounds muffled. “Just finish filling out the form, Stilinski.”

            I know he’s about to argue some more, but decides against it― smart. Soon, he finishes and goes back up to the counter, where he says something to the nurse. She looks around him towards me and quickly dials the phone. Pushing past the desk, she rushes over to me and says, “I’m so sorry, dear, I didn’t realize that we were dealing with a head injury.” She gently pries the shirt from my forehead and presses fingers to her mouth. Looking back over her shoulder, she yells, “We need a gurney― stat!”

            My eyes meet Stiles’ across the room and my heart starts beating wildly. I’m not healing and I didn’t think it was that serious. The nurse grabs my hand― her palms are sweaty― and three guys come out wheeling a gurney. Panic sets in as one guy picks me up and lays me down, pulling straps across my body.

            “Stiles!” My voice rises in desperation. “Stiles!” He’s still standing at the front desk, staring after me when I’m wheeled around the corner. That’s when I start protesting. “No, I’m fine, really, I am. It’s not bleeding all that much now and I’ll be okay. There’s no need for this, really! Please.”

            They say nothing, but take me into a room that’s entirely white. There’s surgical equipment on the table; I fight against the restricting straps, but they don’t move. I feel trapped. I feel chained. I feel like it’s a full moon night again, and I’m locked to a wall in the basement.

            One of the nurses hustling about the room sees the panic in my eyes and comes over. She kneels down and grasps my hand. “Everything’s going to be okay, sweetie; don’t worry.” I see a syringe full of clear liquid in her hand and my eyes go wide. "Just relax and when you wake up, I promise you’ll be better.” She sticks the needle in my arm and the world slowly fades to black. 

Sorry if the ending isn't good. That's what happens when I watch action movies while writing.