Work Text:
The bullets hurt.
Lycanthropy doesn’t do much to stop that. In fact, it might make it worse. The skin trying to knit itself back together as quickly as metal rips through it.
But still he won’t give her the satisfaction.
Not when she swings the barrel of the gun down and gets him in the face. And then does it again. And one more time.
“I thought it was my smile.” He smirks at her.
She holds up the bottle of wolfsbane. The one thing he came here for. He can’t let Gerard get his hands on that bottle. He tries to keep her talking. Not to drive some sense to her, Derek knows already it’s a lost cause.
But maybe he can distract her enough to get his hands on that bottle and keep it away. Deprive Gerard of what he really wants.
Then more bullets ring out as soon as Chris regains mobility and Kate springs off behind the armored truck. He’s hoping he can heal just enough in the time it takes Kate and Chris to throw jabs at each other.
And then she says it.
“This wolfsbane is going in a bullet. A bullet for Scott McCall.”
And that—that was the wrong thing for her to say. Or maybe the right thing. Anger like he’s only felt when he first arrived in Beacon Hills. When he discovered Laura had been murdered. When he discovered it was Peter who had done the deed.
It builds in the pit of his stomach. It makes his blood run hot. It makes him want to roar and shift and tear her throat out.
He struggles to his feet and lets that feeling trigger his wounds to heal. Chris calls after him but Derek only stops long enough to say, “Get back to Beacon Hills. Warn Scott.”
He has someone to take care of. Once and for all.