Medical Miracle

Melissa hadn't been able to find Meredith. The nurse had peeked through the window on Stiles' door, and having not spotted her, she took to checking every room Meredith had a current patient in. After no luck, Melissa had made another pass by Stiles' door, pausing as her eyes scanned the boy from the other side of the glass. Stiles was like a second son to her. He was her kid's surrogate brother and the child of the man she considered a close friend. The Sheriff and Scott were supposed to be saying goodbye to the boy while there was still some time left, not stuck out in the waiting room while Stiles slipped away. Whatever false hope Meredith had and had offered to them wasn't going to help either the Sheriff or Scott after Stiles was gone. They needed the closure. And so did she.

Swallowing, Melissa stepped into the room. The door hadn't even fallen shut again before the nurse was turning tail and hurrying off in the other direction. She rounded a corner on her way to the waiting room and nearly collided with Scott and Derek.

"Okay, Scott," Melissa dug chipped fingernails into her hips as she eyed the pair with a narrowed brow. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Mom?" Scott lifted his hands in what was probably an instinctively guilty and common fashion. "What are you talking about?"

Melissa's eyes snapped from her son to Derek and then back again.

"Alright, both of you, come with me, now."

The werewolves exchanged confused glances before curiously obeying the woman. They followed the nurse down the hall and into a room. They wore similar odd expressions until they realized which room she had brought them to. Derek stood stiffly beside the door Melissa was closing. He could feel the soft, yet sharp, tremors tearing through his body as he simply stared. Scott's reaction was the polar opposite of the Alpha. The teenager propelled forward so suddenly he nearly tangled himself up in his own feet. Along with his limbs, Scott's mouth began to move at a pace that rivaled the hyped speeches of his best friend.

"Oh my - Stiles! How is he? Is he okay? He looks okay. Right? Right, Derek?"

"He looks," Derek swallowed, squinting, "healed."

"What?" Scott took a staggering step backward, as if seeing his friend for the first time.

Derek was right. The bruising and scrapes that had decorated Stiles' face were nowhere to be seen. Both werewolves turned to their other senses. The boy's heartbeat was strong, perhaps stronger than usual. And there was something off-putting about his scent. Underneath the overwhelming layers of medicine, latex and everything else that screamed "hospital", Stiles' scent had changed. There was the chalkiness of his Adderall. The tang of his cologne. But the mixture of sage and peppermint that always accompanied the teenager had all but been doused, replaced with something strangely metallic. Derek was reminded of how Erica had described tasting blood right before having a seizure. This was different though. This smelled musty and sour, like a cousin of dried blood.

"What did you do?"

Before Derek could react, Scott had him pinned against the wall. The Alpha didn't struggle as he growled at the Beta.

"I didn't do anything."

"You bit him, didn't you? Why? Because the Alphas are coming?"

"I said, I didn't do anything."

Derek almost wanted to lie. To tell Scott that he had given Stiles the bite. It would make the Beta hate him, but it would keep him safer. Because something was different about Stiles, and Derek had no idea what.

And it terrified him.

When the bite hadn't changed Jackson or Lydia, Derek had been confused and scared too. And when Jackson was in the bathroom, black blood draining from his nose and ears, it had nearly sent the Alpha into a panic with images of Paige resurfacing after years of being buried.

This was different. A werewolf hadn't bitten Stiles. And Stiles was healing. No, healed. As if never harmed at all. As if a wolf. And the scent. Nothing had changed in Lydia or Jackson's scents after the bite. The change in Stiles, though, was pungent.

"You didn't bite him?" Melissa asked carefully from behind her son.

"No," Derek repeated, pushing Scott away.

"Did he get scratched?" Scott abandoned Derek without an apology and returned to his friend's side. "When Derek scratched Jackson, Argents thought he was the werewolf. They said a scratch can change you if it goes deep enough."

"He's not one of us," Derek stepped forward. "We would be able to tell. To feel it. Like you did with Isaac and Erica."

"Then what is it?" Scott gaped at the bed and then his mother.

"I was hoping you two would be able to tell me," Melissa adjusted something on Stiles' monitor. "Jackson made his miraculous return from the dead an hour ago and now this? Everyone at the hospital is going to be completely clueless as to how either of them survived. The board is going to call everyone who treated both patients in for interviews and questioning. I overheard that thanks to Jackson's father, there are going to be depositions and hearings. Add whatever happened to Stiles into the mix and a lot of suspicious eyes are going to be on Beacon Hills. I heard one doctor mention something about the FBI."

"FBI? What? Why?"

Melissa fixed her son with a disappointed, yet sympathetic look.

"First the animal attacks, then the murders, the police station. Come on, Scott. Beacon Hills' murder rate hasn't reached this in, well, ever. People start to ask questions."

"What kind of questions? It's not like they're going to put werewolves on their suspect list."

"The feds won't," Derek glanced toward the window. "But hunters will."

"I'm never going to pass this semester," Scott lamented halfheartedly, scrubbing at his scalp.

We'll be lucky if we survive it.

Derek didn't dare speak the thought aloud. Scott's nerves were frayed still and he had enough now to worry about. Not to mention he didn't exactly feel comfortable letting Scott's mother know she might lose her son. She already feared for him without the added Alpha presence, hunters, feds and the new mystery of Stiles Stilinski.

"We should call Deaton," Scott moved closer to the bed. "Maybe he'll know something."

"That's great," Melissa glanced at the door, subconsciously lowering her voice, "but what do we tell his father? Any minute now the doctor is going to tell him that his son is perfectly fine. He's going to burst in here, see the missing injuries, and demand answers."

"Maybe we should tell him the truth."

"What? No," Derek waved his hands.

"Come on, man. He's going to figure it out, eventually. Where do you think Stiles' gets his brain from? Besides, my mom freaked, but got over it."

"Ha," Melissa rolled her head back. "Define getting over it."

"But you dealt," Scott stared up at her with pleading eyes. "And now you're helping us."

"Now, she's also in danger."

"She was in danger before!"

"She is standing right here!" Melissa clapped her hands together.

"Scott, listen to me for once. Your mom might lose her job now. The Sheriff already lost his once. If the feds are coming, who are they going to question first? If he knows, he'll have to lie. What if they put him through a lie detector test and he fails? He'll never put his son in danger, so he wouldn't talk. Then they could pin this all on him or send him to jail anyway for obstructing justice or, worse. Not to mention the fact that he is the sheriff, which means he'll try to get involved in all of - this - and then what? End of right here next to Stiles. When all of this is over, I swear, we can tell him. I'd probably stop getting arrested every week. But that's Stiles' decision. Not ours. Trust me, the Sheriff is safer not knowing right now."

"Okay, you're right," Scott bowed his head. "But he's still going to have questions."

"Melissa, what are the doctors telling him?"

"Probably the same thing they're telling Jackson's parents. A medical miracle," she shrugged. "They do happen."

Derek stared down at the boy, the peaceful softness of his features disconcerting.

"Not like this."