Chapter Text
Pain exploded in my right arm as teeth tore into the flesh. I grip my arm, blood making my hand sticky and hot. I kick out at my attacker, hoping that it would just leave me alone. I scramble backwards, finding myself sitting in the middle of a huge warehouse.
A burning sensation replacing the initial throbbing, this wasn't good. The plan had definitely gone to pot and this was the result. Derek wasn't here, he was unconscious against a wall somewhere and Isaac and Scott were lying on top of each other with bleeding wounds in their stomachs.
I look down to see a gaping wound in my lower arm, blood flowing down my hand, eventually pooling on the floor in a growing puddle.
"You cant win, Stiles. Theres no getting out of this, Deaton can't help you now and there are none of your dogs to help you out. Your going to die, Stiles. Theres no which way about it." The voice echoes around the abandoned warehouse, malice dripping off every word, every syllable. Fear took hold of me, rooting my feet to the spot, stopping me from running.
This wasn't good.
I was going to die in a warehouse in the middle of no where, with nothing to stand in my name apart from being the one human who couldn't keep their head in the heat of battle; letting everyone around me get hurt for the things that I did. I may as well stall for time.
"Yeah, and how do you know that?! Maybe Derek will come round in time to stop you! Maybe I'm not as human as I look!" I shout the lies out into the darkness of the building around me, the threat imminent but invisible to my eyes. Maybe not being a werewolf wasn't so much of a draw back after all.
I back up to press my back against a wall, breath hitching in my throat as I feel a hand against my ankle. I look down to find a barely conscious Derek by my feet. Deciding that dying next to Derek wouldn't be too much of a problem, at least the Alpha wouldn't have to search for my body, I collapse against the floor.
"Guess Ill see you in wherever we end up next then, sourwolf. Look after them, they look up to you, you know. Even if they try to rip your head off most days..." I mutter to the Werewolf next to me.
I could see him struggling to respond to me, straining to lift his head to look at me. "Stil..." No red alpha eyes glowing angrily at me. No growl of defiance at my words. Just Derek, just Derek trying to talk to me in his injured state. His eyes were full of regret. So much regret. "Stiles..." His voice was so weak I barely heard it over the pounding in my chest.
I didn't want to die. There was no denying that. No one wants to die, not truly. Only now, when I'm about to be killed brutally by some hellhound and its master, do I realise this. Only when I almost gave up.
"Don't... Please..." It felt weird hearing his voice like this, like I was invading on something private. Derek always seemed so strong and powerful, but like this he looked vulnerable, fragile. I lay my hand on his, hoping to comfort him in some way.
Blood dripped from my hand onto his, making him shiver. I feel him tense as I go to move away, to face my untimely death. He grips me with his hand, tighter than I ever thought he'd be able to manage in this state.
"It's okay, Der... I'm not worried... It's okay..." I whispered to him, not entirely confident in my words, knowing they would just aggravate the Alpha more than he already was at not being able to move from his current position. I watch as he struggles to process the new information, his eyes dart backwards and forwards, looking from me to the darkness in front of us and back. He didn't want to let go of my hand, he knew what would happen to me.
He wasn't ready to let go. Not yet. To be honest I don't think I am either. I don't actually want to die, but everyone around me keeps getting hurt the longer I delay the inevitable. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me.
"Stiles... No-No one blames... You" A small voice from Derek next to me, as if he heard my thoughts. "You... You can't... Blame yourself... It's not right." His voice was gaining strength every time he talked, his healing was starting to work, then.
I smile softly at his words. "Yeah, I know that Der. But you cant stop me, you cant stop me blaming myself." I mutter, falling back into place next to him as a fresh wave of pain engulfs the entire right side of my body. I know that whatever wants to kill me will be coming for me soon, I'm surprised it hasn't come sooner.
Rubbing salt into the wound I guess.
All signs of the threat that filled my senses evaporate soon after, no declaration of 'We'll be back for you' or 'You have two hours'. Just a lack of any sense of danger. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to find that relieving or if its supposed to strike me with more fear than before. Derek obviously can tell they have left and loosens his grip on my hand, I hadn't even noticed he hadn't let go.
We sit there for what seems like hours, holding hands, the only noise is the pounding of my heart and the occasional hiss of pain from one of us. I see Derek sit slightly more upright as time passes, obviously recovering thanks to his werewolf powers. What is actually five minuets after my exclamation, Derek stands, struggling at first he manages to get a handhold on the wall and heaved himself up.
"Look - Stiles. You are not going to die here. I cant see or hear anything in here apart from us and the other two. I'm... I'm going to get you out of here without loosing your life and if you argue... I'm going to have to carry you." There was a look in his eyes that said 'Don't argue, it will just get you into even more shit', and I wasn't about to mess with that - especially considering how peeved off the Alpha was bound to be after recent events.
I was however, going to get one piece of information off of him before I agreed to anything. "Derek? Did you mean what you said? About not wanting me to die?" There were so many things I wanted to ask him but this was the most important one.
"I-I... Stilesss - Can we not talk about this when we get back to the Loft?" He mutters, drawing out the last letter of my name. The look He gave me was pure desperation, it was clear he didn't want to talk about it. I was tempted to leave it at that, but my curiosity got the better of me and I just had to know what he had meant. It wasn't as if everyone got to see this side of Derek; everyone apart from Stiles saw the cold, harsh and sarcastic Derek.
Stiles, however saw the inside.
He saw the side of Derek that actually cared, still felt the burning pain after loosing his family to a fire, doubted himself and feared things, things that normal people feared.
"No. No we may not leave. Not until you have explained your actions to me." I frowned at the werewolf standing in front of me, craning my neck to look clearly at him. I knew full well that he could literally just pick me up and carry me kicking and screaming back to the loft without breaking a sweat, but something inside me told me that Derek didn't want to do that. Something told me that he might actually want to tell me, a small part of him actually wanted rid of something. Something that he didn't want to accept he knew, he didn't want to acknowledge it's existence.
"You know I can literally carry you back to the loft against your will. Your skinny, defenceless body has no chance. As much as I love you, you... Oh shit." Derek spluttered. He had said it. The alphas eyes widened as he realised what he had just said. The pain in my arm was instantly forgotten, Derek Hale had just declared his love for me in one of the most awkward ways possible.
"Oh you do, do you?" I questioned, feeling a smirk appearing on my blood stained face. This was what I had been waiting for since the last time Derek had ending up dramatically saving me from a gory demise. l slowly stand, as gracefully as possible with a gaping wound in one arm and a bleeding cut in my temple.
My eyes never leave Derek's face. I can feel him begin to tense, not knowing what's coming next. Managing to get up onto my feet, albeit a bit wobbly and unsteady, but on my feet none the less.
"S...Stiles?" Derek's voice.
"Der, do you know how long I have waited to hear those words? Well, not exactly THOSE words, but you get my drift. I've ben waiting for a long time, let me just say that." I mutter, a matter of fact tone to my voice, slowly decreasing the space between the two of us, hoping that he didn't move away. Watching Derek's eyes widen with every step I take towards him, every inch I get closer to him.
"Stiles? W-What are... you-" Derek's words are cut off as a pair of lips are pressed against his.
It was quick, nervous but it was perfect. Both of us bloodied and beaten, no one else around. Just the two of us in a darkened room, some might even call it romantic. That was if it wasn't for the imminent threat of death at any moment.
I move away, un-tangling the hand on my good arm from Derek's dark hair. His face was a picture; flushed cheeks, wide, green eyes shining in the half light of the warehouse, his mouth hanging open - an un asked question hanging on his lips. Frowning, my head begins to feel light, and I look down at my arm and see the reason. Blood loss isn't really a problem for were-wolves but for humans its a pretty big one. The blood was everywhere, in Derek's hair, my face and all over the floor around me. The pain rushes back to me. A burning sensation that could rival even the most violent injury I've sustained on the Lacrosse pitch. All of the blood rushing to my head during the kiss fades away again and it must have shown because the look on Derek's face morphed into one of worry, fear and confusion all at once.
"Stiles?! Stiles what's wrong?!" Is the last thing I hear as I promptly pass out. The last thing I see is Derek kneeling over my body, frantically attempting to find out what's wrong.