"Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there."

"Almost where?" Rachel snapped from the backseat of Stiles' jeep, leaning forward. Her shoulders were cramped between the space of the drivers' & passengers' seats, but that was lower than hell itself on her current list of concerns.

The fact that her brother was bleeding out with no hopes of healing, well, that was higher than the clouds. Bypassing her previous priority of maintaining a relatively normal life, she'd rank this as 0.5 above #1.

"Your house." Stiles stated obviously, momentarily glancing back at the brunette before returning his gaze to the road in front of him.

"What? No, you can't take me there." Derek coughed, managing to glare at Stiles despite the searing pain. Even Rachel knew that their house was the worst possible place to go in a situation like this. One of the first things she was taught, was to hide & heal when injured. Returning to their own house with Derek half dead would be almost as if Rachel had posted their exact location on Facebook. Hunters from near & far would be jumping at the opportunity to catch a Hale weak & injured.

"I can't take you to your own house?"

"Not when I can't protect myself." The werewolf huffed, stating it as though the answer had been obvious. For both him & Rachel, it had been - however, Stiles was rather new to the wonderful world of werewolves. He hadn't had time to fully understand the dangers that lie behind the quick-passing, overjoyed emotion of "holy shit, my best friend's a werewolf!"

With a quick tire screech, Stiles had swerved his jeep over onto the side of the road, ceasing all movement & shutting it off completely. Nearly fuming, he turned to face both Hale siblings. "All right. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?"

"He certainly isn't getting better." Rachel hissed, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"I have a last resort." Derek assured. The brunette scrunched up her nose, cringing at the thought. She knew exactly what the horrific last resort was, and she was beginning to contemplate on whether or not she could withstand a few ordinary bullets to find the one her brother had been shot with.

Surely Allison would let her in, and as long as she stayed in the company of the clueless girl - no Argent could pull a gun on her without exposing the real family business to Allison. Rachel didn't want to - especially since she was sure she'd still maintained her previous reflection of Stiles, which would leave her human & defenceless.

"What do you mean? What last resort?" Stiles questioned, looking between the two siblings.

Without another word, Derek lifted the sleeve of his shirt, finally revealing how bad the wound had become. A few black veins could be seen fading off around the edges, whilst the bullet hole itself was oozing a disgusting black blood.

"We need to hurry." Rachel muttered, looking fearfully from her brother back to Stiles. "We really need to hurry."

"Oh my God. .What is that? Oh, is that contagious? You know what, you should probably just get out." Stiles grimaced, turning away. Of all the things he'd seen at the police station, or photos or crime scenes & evidence - he'd never seen anything as horrifying.

"Start the car. Now." Derek growled. Rachel leaned forward more, now nearly in the front seat. The brunette turned to Stiles, glaring angrily.

"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay?" The spastic boy remarked, ignoring Rachel - who he failed to notice, now had yellowish eyes. "In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

That was enough to push her over the edge. The brunette growled loudly, showing off her sharpened canines & now brightly glowing eyes. "Start the car. Or I'm going to rip out your throat - with my teeth."

Stiles hesitated for a moment, now knowing for certain that Rachel had lied to him the previous night, before reluctantly turning the keys & starting his jeep once more.

As the vehicle moved back onto the road in silence - aside from the annoyingly loud engine - Rachel had fallen back against the seat, all animalistic features leaving her face. The only thought occupying her mind, being that of Scott - the only other werewolf she'd ever been able to reflect besides Derek.

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

"What am I supposed to do with him & his homicidal sister?" Stiles snapped into his cell phone. After Rachel's previous threat, and the realization that he had absolutely no where to take the two Hales - he'd opted for his last resort. To call Scott.

With that desperate call currently in progress, Rachel had managed to climb halfway into the front of the jeep - enabling herself to get close enough to Stiles, so she could listen in on the call.

"Take him somewhere, anywhere." Scott huffed, sounding rushed & worried.

"And, by the way, he's starting to smell." The spastic boy added, earning a glare from both siblings. He wasn't wrong, but it wasn't something that he needed to confirm. In her current werewolf state, Rachel couldn't smell anything but the rotting scent.

"Like what?"

"Like death." Stiles deadpanned, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, while readjusting his hold on the phone.

"Okay-" Scott paused, thinking for a moment. "Take him to the animal clinic."

"Is he for real?" Rachel whispered, staring at Stiles in disbelief. The animal clinic suggestion was either a legitimately idiotic suggestion, or a poorly thought out wolf joke - and she didn't care which. No matter what it had been, Rachel was certain that if somebody with a brain didn't soon step in - her brother was as good as dead.

"What about your boss?" Stiles questioned, ignoring Rachel's comment.

"He's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."

Stiles paused for a moment, moving the phone onto his shoulder before turning to Derek. "You're not gonna believe where he's telling me to take you."

Rachel bit her lip, taking the phone from Stiles & giving it to Derek. She still didn't support the idea of going to the animal clinic, but she knew that arguing at this point would only result in Stiles pulling over & tossing her out of the jeep. Despite having the majority of Scott's werewolf abilities, her incapability to actually use them left her relatively defenceless.

"Did you find it?" Derek questioned into the phone, still occasionally wincing due to the pain.

"How am I supposed to find one bullet?" Scott asked in disbelief. "They have a million. This house is like the fricken Walmart of guns!"

"Look, if you don't find it, then I'm dead, all right?"

"I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing." The teen wolf sighed.

Rather than allowing Derek to reply - which would likely start an irrelevant argument - she took the chance of snatching the phone from his grasp & attempting her own method of persuasion. "Then think about this. The Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, you either kill with him, or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive, then you need Derek. Find the bullet."

And with that, she hung up.

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

Nearly twenty minutes later, Stiles, Rachel & Derek had arrived at the animal clinic - each of them still alive for the time being. Luckily for Stiles, he'd driven relatively fast, which in turn had saved him from another spew of descriptive death threats from Rachel.

"Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles questioned the two Hales, holding up his cell phone to display the message from Scott.

"Oh god." Rachel muttered quietly, absentmindedly tapping her nails along the metal table.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet." Derek informed, a desperate tone in use. At this point in time, Rachel was more than ready to start improvising a break & enter plan to simply steal the bullet if Scott couldn't hurry the hell up.

However, the pale boy didn't seem to take notice of the Hale siblings' worry. Rather than obliging with the werewolf's demand, he questioned. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Rachel hissed, staring wide-eyed at Stiles. As the teen retained a look of complete & utter confusion, she scoffed. "He's going to die without it."

"Okay." Stiles stated calmly, despite his expression being anything but serene. As a minute of aimlessly tapping his fingers on the metal table passed by, he broke the intense silence. "You know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of."

"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." Derek deadpanned, glaring at the teen.

It was more than evident that the wolfsbane was well on it's way to his heart. Having taken off his leather jacket moments ago, black veins could be seen snaking up his shoulder. Rachel cringed not from the sight, but from the mere thought that her brother could very well be dead in a matter of hours - possibly minutes. If she lost Derek, she'd have absolutely nobody.

Not a mother, not a father. The closest thing she'd have to a surviving relative would be the void shell of what was once her uncle. No family would want an abomination such as Rachel Hale, and once the public got a taste of what she could become - she'd be in Eichen House before even having the chance to plead guilty.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles remarked, leaning against the metal table.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time-" Derek paused, making his way over to the counter. "-last resort."

Whilst Stiles stared in awe, Rachel smacked a hand over her face as Derek held up an electric bone saw. She'd known his "last resort" all along, but she'd been silently hoping that he wouldn't even have to consider it. Sadly - those hopes had been shattered to pieces.

"Which is?" Stiles asked, mentally praying that the werewolf wasn't implying what he suspected.

"You're gonna cut off my arm."

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

The last five minutes had consisted of one thing. Two, if you count Rachel trying to imagine what it would be like to only have one arm. Stiles had been pacing worriedly, repeatedly muttering "oh my god" quietly - the two Hales still heard it, though.

Finally, her temper had reached a boiling point. Rachel couldn't hear that bloody sentence one more time, or her brother wouldn't be the only one wounded. "Stiles!"

"Hm?" The boy glanced towards her, his head turning so quickly she'd half expected him to snap his neck. He'd definitely consumed well over the recommended amount of Adderall.

"Shut up."

"I just- god." Stiles huffed, running a hand over his buzz cut before turning to face Derek. "What if you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works." The werewolf explained, showing no signs of fear. If anyone could describe Derek Hale in one word, that word would certainly be fearless. In all the years she remembered, Rachel couldn't ever recall seeing her brother truly afraid of anything. She'd seen heartbreak, sadness, vengeful rage, but never fear.

"Ugh. Look- I don't know if I can do this." Stiles sighed, a frown etched on his face.

"Why not?"

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!" The spastic boy listed, ticking each horrific scene off on his fingers. "Look, can't Rachel do it?"

"No." The brunette snapped, taking a step closer to Stiles. Her fists clenched in anger, and she had to fight the urge to slam him against the wall. "If he dies - the pain of losing not only a pack mate, but a family member.." She paused, lowering her voice to a whisper as she stepped back from the boy. "I'm not strong enough."

"What makes you think that I am?"

"A mild fear of blood doesn't compare to a searing agony." Rachel hissed, her eyes narrowing. "I've heard it resembles having your heart ripped straight out of your chest."

Derek turned to Stiles. "You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Stiles shrieked, looking between the two Hales.

"Don't worry, I'm pretty good at slapping people awake." Rachel snapped through gritted teeth, her eyes beginning to glow a bright yellow. Reflexively, she looked up to glare at Stiles, instantly regretting it. The yellow was quickly replaced by a metallic silver & a reflection of the boy's brown eyes.

The brunette groaned loudly, pounding her fist against the metal table in anger. She'd managed to reflect Scott's werewolf abilities for nearly an hour. One little slip up, and suddenly she's back to a reflection of the useless abilities possessed by Stiles Stilinski.

"What was-" Stiles began to question the girl's supernatural abilities, but was abruptly cut off by her brother.

"How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head." Derek growled. If looks could kill, Stiles would be buried not six, but sixty feet underground.

"Okay, you know what, I'm so not buying your threats any-" Stiles was abruptly cut off as Derek reached across the table, curling his fist around the boy's shirt & pulling him closer. "Oh, my God. Okay. All right, bought, sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it."

The werewolf paused, looking as though he was about to say something. Rachel furred her brows in confusion, looking up to her brother worriedly. "Der? You alright?"

As if on cue, he released Stiles' shirt & hunched over, vomiting black blood onto the floor. Whilst the spastic teen cringed in disgust, making an array of comedic expressions, Rachel frowned, helping her brother to lean on the table for support.

"Holy God, what the hell is that?" Stiles gagged, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"It's my body-" The werewolf choked out, unable to complete a sentence without coughing. "-trying to heal itself."

"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it."

"Stiles." Rachel spat, stepping close enough so that the two were too close for comfort. "I'm about 50 shades of done with your sarcasm. My brother is dying, and I swear to god if you don't save him - you're really going to hope Scott can save you. I don't care if I'm not a-"

"Now." Derek interrupted Rachel's threat, handing the saw to Stiles. "You gotta do it now."

"Look, honestly, I don't think I can." Stiles spoke loudly, reluctantly easing the saw closer to the werewolf's arm.

"Stiles!" Rachel screeched, glaring daggers at him.

"Just do it!" Derek yelled, now struggling to stay standing. Rachel rushed around the table, helping her brother to remain upright.

"Oh, my God. Okay, okay. Oh, my God." Stiles repeated, his hands shakily gripping the saw. His eyes shut tightly as he pressed the blade against Derek's arm, seconds away from flicking the switch. "Alright, here we go!"

"Stiles?" Scott yelled, staring in horror at his best friend.

"Scott?" Rachel questioned, half believing that the sight before her wasn't truly real.

Ignoring her question, he turned to Stiles. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dropping the saw, Stiles let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares."

"Did you get it?" Rachel hissed, storming around the table & over to Scott. She was two point five seconds away from kicking his werewolf ass out into the parking lot if he hadn't - though lucky for him, he had.

Scott nodded, setting the bullet on the metal table. Stiles stared, a brow raised in question. "What are you gonna do with it?"

"I'm gonna-" the older werewolf began, unable to finish the sentence. "I'm gonna-"

Before he could speak again, he fell crashing to the floor, the bullet falling from his hand & rolling underneath a cabinet.

"No." Scott muttered, soon raising his voice. "No, no, no, no!"

"Derek!" Rachel shrieked, running to her brother's side. Stiles crouched down beside her, both teens trying to shake the werewolf awake whilst Scott struggled to reach the bullet.

"Derek, come on, wake up." Stiles insisted, becoming more frantic. "Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?"

"I don't know! I can't reach it!"

"He's not waking up.." Rachel stated, panic rising with every word. Derek couldn't die - he was all she had left. The brunette didn't have a clue of what he did with a wolfsbane bullet to reverse its effect. She never learned to do it herself. If ever she'd been injured by a hunter, Derek or Laura would always be the one to fix it up, due to her low tolerance of pain. She'd only been shot twice in her life, and once was her own fault.

"I think he's dying." Stiles deadpanned, looking towards Rachel in horror. "I think he's-"

The brunette leaned over, laying her head on the unconscious werewolf's chest. As soon as she heard a heartbeat, her own sped up times four. "He's alive, but barely. Scott, I swear to hell & back if you don't get that bullet I'll kill you myself."

"I got it!" The teen wolf shouted seconds after Rachel's threat. "I got it!"

"Please don't kill me for this." Stiles muttered quietly, before punching Derek in the face. Rachel's eyes widened as the teen repeated his actions - once, twice.. Her hand caught his wrist just before he could hit her brother again, the brunette narrowing her eyes at Stiles.

"Stiles, for fuck sakes he's awake." Rachel hissed, helping Derek to his feet.

The werewolf quickly took the bullet, biting the top off & emptying it's contents on the table. Rachel handed him a lighter, which soon ignited the powder into ash. The brunette turned away, cringing in disgust as he then gathered up the ashes & stuffed them into the gaping wound on his arm.

In a matter of seconds, all signs of blood - black or red - and injury had faded, with the exception of what'd been on the floor & his shirt. Derek stumbled back, nearly falling onto the floor yet again, though Scott & Rachel managed to help him remain standing.

"That.. was... awesome!" Stiles grinned widely, shooting his fists up in excitement. "Yes!"

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked quietly, concern written on her features. The brunette didn't have the strength or willpower left to bitch out Stiles for his previous comment. She normally would've rambled off an entire list of reasons why there was something very deeply wrong with him, however, the sheer happiness of knowing her brother was going to live kept her content for the time being.

"Well, except for the agonizing pain." Derek remarked, looking at her as if she'd just asked the dumbest question on earth.

"I see we're back to the sibling rivalry." Rachel pursed her lips, holding back a smile. She was just happy he'd survived.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Stiles cut in, causing Rachel's happiness to quickly fade. She'd nearly forgotten of the spastic boy & the teen wolf, however they certainly hadn't forgotten her.

"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything-" Scott began, soon being stopped by Derek.

"You're going to trust them?" He questioned, glaring at the teen wolf as always. Let's face it - any expression worn by Derek Hale always had some way of resembling a glare. "You think they can help you?"

"Well, why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are!"

"Scott don't." Rachel warned, sensing where the conversation would soon turn. She didn't want to think of it, nor did she want to pay visit to the dreaded place anytime within the near future.

"I can show you exactly how nice they are." The older werewolf snapped, avoiding looking at his sister. He knew how much it was going to rattle the girl, but Scott had to know. He had to know the truth of how demented & monstrous the Argent family was.

"What do you mean?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

Rachel was rigid & jumpy as they walked down the hall of Beacon Hills' Long Term Care. It wasn't the most attractive or eye catching building, mainly due to it's non-observational patients. Most of the occupants were either comatose, in a constant state of disorientation, or plagued by terminal cancer & unable to retreat to their home for their final weeks.

"What are we doing here?" Scott asked as they rounded a corner, entering one of the patient rooms.

Rachel's jaw tightened as she followed behind the two, forcing herself to hold back tears. She hadn't been there in over a month - and she wasn't planning on returning, despite Derek insisting they visit monthly just in case. Rachel saw no point in visiting the empty shell of a human being anymore, because it was never going to change. All humanity had been destroyed years ago.

"Who is he?" Scott asked, gesturing to the man sitting perfectly still in a wheelchair. The chair faced away from them, making him seem relatively normal for them time being - but Derek & Rachel knew what was hidden.

"My uncle." Derek answered emotionlessly. "Peter Hale."

Rachel inhaled sharply, unable to cope with the fact that Derek had said his name. The shell of a man sitting in the chair wasn't Peter Hale. He might've somewhat resembled him, he wasn't Peter. He wasn't the man that would read books to Rachel & Cora when their mother would go off to meet with the emissary & other packs. He wasn't the man who helped Rachel to learn more about her abilities, and he wasn't the uncle she'd loved.

"Is he like you, a werewolf?" Scott questioned, staring at the man.

"He was. Now he's barely even human." Derek explained, anger evident in his tone. "Six years ago, my sister and I were at school, and our house caught fire. 11 people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor."

Rachel almost said something, but at the last second, she bit her lip. It was just a minor mispronunciation, right? Derek had said sister, not sisters. Rachel had been there with him & Laura that day. She'd noticed he forgot one of his textbooks & opted to hop on her bike & take it to him. She wanted to see her brother & his team play, anyways. She didn't think any harm would come from wanting to watch her brother's basketball practice. Little did she know that in her two hours of absence, her house had been set ablaze.

"So," Scott began. "What makes you so sure that they set the fire?"

"Because they're the only ones that knew about us." Rachel snapped bitterly, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She knew for a fact that the fire had been started by an Argent, but the controversy had come from the burning question of which Argent. Everyone had their own ideas, Derek choosing to blame them all while Rachel had opted to watch more carefully.

They advertised their code as "We hunt those who hunt us." which led Rachel to think deeper. She was sure that the fire had been set by several people, but the real question was were all of those people Argents? Or had there been other conspirators?

She knew not all the Argents were corrupt & living in anarchy, which was the reason she'd held no grudges against Allison for her family's faults. The girl would've been Rachel's age when the fire was set, and though it wasn't unheard of, she highly doubted a ten year old Allison Argent was capable of such a crime. Looks can be extremely deceiving, but a certain type of instinct led Rachel to believe the girl was utterly clueless of her family's occupation.

Rachel couldn't find it in her heart to hate. Her darkened, trampled & burned heart, in so many fragments yet she still found the smallest of parts that were capable of forgiveness.

Even if the tiniest of shards still managed to hold love, in order to burrow down to those pieces you first had to pass through the immense tar-like annoyance & anger - most of which was directed at Scott in the current moment.

In her haze of thoughts, his words had almost slipped past her, but the sudden realization that he could've just said the worst possible thing brought her back in a snap. "Excuse me?"

"They had a reason." Scott repeated more firmly, standing with his previous statement.

"Like what, Scott?" Rachel gaped, staring at the werewolf in complete befuddlement. Every last nerve she had - he managed to irritate each one. Not even Stiles could drive her to the brink of insanity like Scott could. "What reason could they possibly have for killing the only people who've ever loved me?"

In a way, he was a lot like her. Grasping at every last string in attempt to hold on to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, his girlfriend's family weren't homicidal maniacs. He was trying to see the best in them, while Derek saw monsters. Rachel saw a combination of both; one devil who's choices were dragging their entire family to hell with them.

"You tell me what justifies this." Derek snapped, turning the wheelchair around to show the man's entire face. While one side was normal, the other side was badly burned & scarred - hardly even looking human.

A faint squeak escaped Rachel's lips before her hand clamped over her mouth. She'd seen the burned face of what was once her beloved uncle countless times, but each time felt as though it was the first. The horror never ceased, the knife-like pang in her chest never dulled & the sting in her eyes always followed. The brunette shut her eyes, her brother wrapping an arm around her in attempt to console her. It never worked.

Still, she buried her face in his leather jacket, unable to take another second of pain. With the reminder of Peter, came the reminder of Cora, and with that - came an endless stream of tears. Every time they'd visit Peter, it would almost always end in tears. It was the only time Rachel ever allowed herself to cry, because it was the only place she knew she'd never be labelled as weak. She had every reason to retain at least a small amount of psychological damage, whether it be losing her twin, her other half, at such a young age, or forcing herself to visit the emotionless void that is the remnants of Peter Hale each month.

It was slowly tearing her apart, but she did it. She did it because he was still family, and she still loved him.

"They say they'll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do!" Derek emphasized, ensuring he made the point absolutely clear. "And it's what Allison will do."

Scott simply stood there, staring at the burned corpse of what was once a werewolf. There were so many thoughts flooding through his mind all at once, none of which he could manage to form into a complete sentence.

"What are you doing?" The alarmed voice of a nurse called from the doorway. "How did you get in here?"

"We were just leaving."

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

This chapter is outrageously long because I couldn't find a place to split it, and writing this episode was hell.

I kinda feel bad for Rachel, because she still thinks of Peter as the uncle he was before the Hale fire.. I guess she's going to get quite the rude awakening? Oopsie.

The end was a rare look at the fragile side of Rachel. It's literally like Scott in season 3, she's got an open wound - in which case, hers is from the fire. She's never got over losing Cora, and I'm evilly smiling because season 3.