Chapter Text
~ Stiles POV ~
He’d been alone for… he couldn’t remember how long. Days, weeks, months, maybe even years. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. The world was dead, or dying. A little bit of both. And being alone was normal now. There were a few people out there. Somewhere, Stiles guessed. He tried to steer clear of people as much as he could. It was safer that way. For everyone.
He was sure he was going to be alone forever. He was fine with that. Had accepted that. Was maybe even a little glad for it. And then a few days ago he’d heard them. Footsteps. Not the ambling, shuffling, feet dragging footsteps he was used to. These were sure footsteps. Someone alive. Someone following him. They were quiet. Quieter than anyone he’d come across since it happened. But that just made him anxious.
He was walking through the woods, stepping easily over sticks and piles of dry leaves to keep quiet. He heard a twig snap behind him, far behind him, and the hairs on his neck stood on end. He rubbed at the back of his neck and kept walking. He’d stop when the sun started to fall. And then he’d start digging. As far as he could tell, whoever this person was, they slept at night. He’d never heard them creeping around. He was sure he’d have met them if they had been. He hadn’t slept in almost week. He just wanted to get rid of them so he could be on his way.
The hole was deep. He was proud of how deep he’d gotten. Deep enough that he had a hard time climbing out. Which was perfect. The sun was coming up over the trees and he knew it was almost time. Time to go. He brushed the dirt off his hands and collapsed the shovel he’d used. He shoved it in his bag and laid down on the ground. He didn’t want his stalker friend to think something was off. He waited about ten minutes and then pushed himself off the ground. He threw his bag over his shoulder and walked away from the hole he’d dug and covered.
He walked through the trees silently. He heard the branches over the hole snap and smiled to himself. He took three more steps and then he heard something else. A sound he should be used too. A sound that he heard almost every day. A sound that still turned his stomach and made his fingers itch as they tightened around the handle of his bat. The moans echoed through the trees. The wind carrying them to Stiles and making him shiver. He took a deep breath, listening to the sounds. They were heading this way. Getting closer and closer to the trap Stiles had set.
He growled in his throat, tucked his bat back into is bag, and turned on his heel, sprinting back toward the hole as the groaning dead closed in.
~ Derek’s POV ~
He thought he’d finally gone crazy. It had been months since he’d smelled anything like it. Something human. Something alive. The wind had been heavy that day, the trees around him swaying and snapping back into to place, dancing in the wind like feral ballerinas. The scent hit him like a wolfs bane bullet to the stomach. He stumbled backwards and blinked hard, nearly losing his footing on the dry ground. He stood completely still for almost five minutes. Waiting. The wind barreled back through the trees and the scent hit him again. He felt his eyes glow blue, his claws extending, his heart beating fast in his chest. It wasn’t bloodlust he was feeling, it was excitement, longing, a pulse in his chest telling him that he didn’t have to be alone anymore.
He scrambled through the trees after the scent recklessly, stumbling over roots and rocks and anything that wasn’t flat ground. His claws tore through tree bark as he pushed himself forward. His body literally clawing towards the scent of another living person. He needed that. Needed someone. He’d been alone for so long. His pack destroyed and torn apart by whatever it was that had ripped through the world. And he’d been left standing. Alone.
He’d finally caught up to the scent after a few days. He’d stayed back. Not wanting to startle them. Or push his presence on them. He had to fight himself to stay away, every fiber in his being telling him to go forward, push further. Just BE with them. But he dug his claws into his palms and stayed back. Stayed away. But not too far away.
He’d only caught glimpses of them. He was sure it was a man. Though man might be too strong a word. He seemed young. Maybe just out of his teens. His hair was shaggy. Derek had seen it once when he’d finally pushed his hood down off his head. The boy was wearing a red hoodie and a very worn pair of jeans, his shoes were red too. Derek had smiled when he’d seen them kicked up on a log when the boy had been resting for a few moments, dirty red converse, like the ones Derek had worn when he was in high school. He had a silver baseball bat. The end of it had a rusty red tint and Derek pushed away any thoughts about that being human blood. Living human blood, anyway. It was definitely human. Derek could smell it. But he pushed the thought away. Hoping beyond hope that he’d come across a good person. Not some crazy with a bat.
~***~
The ground gives out beneath his feet and he’s falling. His feet hit the bottom and he immediately readjusts his perception of the kid. He was clearly a crazy with a bat. He extended his claws, getting ready to climb out when he heard it. The telltale sounds of the dead. He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes, listening. There had to be hundreds of them, he’d never heard them so loud. He could hear their feet dragging and stumbling across the ground toward him. But he could hear something else. Another pair of feet on the ground. Fast ones. Running toward him.
He heard the boy crash to the ground and was sure he’d fallen until his head popped over the edge of the hole. He looked down at Derek, his eyes wide. Then his hand sprang forward, reaching out to Derek.
“Gimme your hand.” He said, his voice deeper than Derek had been expecting, he was breathing heavy. Derek blinked up at him dumbly.
“Give me your hand! Right now! Come on!” the boy yelled, shaking his hand at Derek, his fingers splayed out wide as he reached for him. Derek blinked again and then shot his hand out and grabbed the boys forearm. The boys’ fingers wrapped around his own arm and he started pulling. He had more strength than Derek was used to in humans, he nearly pulled Derek off his feet with one tug. Derek dug his claws into the dirt wall in front of him and began climbing out. The boy toppled backwards as he pulled him out, then sprang to his feet and looked at Derek.
“We have to go. Now!” he said, his voice frantic. He started running, Derek fell into a run at his side.
They ran through the trees side by side. Sticks cracking, leaves crunching beneath them as leaves swayed in the wind above. Derek ran side by side with this boy who had trapped him and then come back to save him. They ran and ran and ran, hearts pounding in their chest as they flew through the trees.
And the dead followed.