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But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
It was bound to happen at some point, Stiles thought dully as he was shoved down the stairs. Wasn’t like he hadn’t been kidnapped before, but somehow this felt more terrifying than the last time, which was weird considering the last time it was by an Alpha werewolf hell bent on revenge. Now it was just a human. A hunter, but, still, human. Before his introduction into the supernatural he would have thought the line between what the stories convinced you were the monsters - like the big bad wolf - and the humans - often seen as the heroes - was thick, separate, uncrossable. Stiles had learned, though, and those lines had quickly become blurred.
Strange to think there had been a time when Stiles thought of someone like Derek Hale as the enemy, but now, now , something had changed. It had happened somewhere between being shoved up against the wall by the man and holding him up for over two hours in the swimming pool just weeks ago. Derek Hale wasn’t his enemy, wasn’t necessarily his friend, an ally perhaps?
But he was something .
Something that made Stiles’ stomach flip whenever his grey-green eyes lingered on him a little too long or made his heart nearly beat out of his chest when they touched. Stiles always thought he had it figured out, that he knew himself, but whatever this feeling was it seemed more real, more genuine than anything he had felt for Lydia. And that shook Stiles to his very core.
Another harsh shove brought him back to his reality, his ankle almost breaking as he caught himself on the end of the handrail. He hadn’t known why he was thinking of Derek while he was in very real danger.
Derek means safety his brain supplied unhelpfully.
Stiles heard the door slam and he began to turn to make some sarcastic comment to his unseen captor when his heart dropped into his stomach. Hanging from the ceiling, bound and looking terrified were Erica and Boyd.
“Oh no.” Stiles whispered as he immediately moved forward, determined to free them from their prison. “Hang on, I’ll get you out of here.”
He felt his gut twist uncomfortably, shaking hands reaching out for them. He knew the electrical current was keeping them from shifting and probably hurt like hell. Stiles knew they were Derek’s pack and he had considered them friends as well. He reached up, hissing in pain as he felt a shock of electricity snap through his fingers. Erica and Boyd whimpered and Stiles shook his hand, eyes turning down to the machine.
“I’m not going to abandon you.” Stiles muttered as his eyes raked over it, looking for the off switch. Maybe the three of them could escape together. All of Stiles' hope quickly drained away as the door at the top of the stairs opened and a stern, older voice called out to him.
“Now, Stiles, don’t you know better than to go near wild animals?”
Stiles turned, standing protectively in front of his friends, a snarl on his lips as Gerard descended the stairs, smiling pleasantly at him.
“Hey asshole, they’re just teenagers,” Stiles growled, hands balling into tight fists, “let them go.”
“Well,” Gerard said with a small chuckle, “then what would be the point of capturing them in the first place?”
“Should have known you were trouble the moment you stepped foot in this town.” Stiles said, his voice trembling in anger. “Kate Argent was your daughter after all and look at the terrible things she did.”
“Kate,” Gerard sneered, his face contorting in anger, “did what she could to take out the monsters that haunt this land.”
Stiles gave off a humorless laugh, amber eyes narrowed as he watched the old man move around the room like a snake ready to snatch up its prey. “Like sexually abusing a minor? Like burning innocent people alive? Like ripping a family apart?” He spat.
Gerard said nothing as he continued circling around Stiles, watching the boy curiously. Stiles wanted to move closer to Boyd and Erica, protect them from this man that had caused so much pain over the years. Kate may have lit the fire, but Gerard handed her the match. And now he had come back to finish what they had started years ago. To once again take away a family, a pack, that Derek had created because they thought he was the bad guy, the monster.
“You so badly want to pin the Hales, the werewolves, as the ones who need to be taken care of,” Stiles said darkly, “but you’re the real monster here.”
It was like Stiles had triggered the beast and Gerard had him pinned against the wall with surprising strength, pulling a yelp from the boy as his head smashed into the brick. Stiles swore he could see stars, but his panicked fingers were clawing at the hand wrapped around his throat. He couldn’t remember much after the first hit. Or the second. Or the several that followed. All he could do was focus on the sharp, metal taste pooling in his mouth and the thunderous sound of his heart ripping through his chest before it all went black.
Stiles fell in and out of consciousness for a few hours. Every time he woke up he could feel every muscle tense, every bruise deepen, the sour taste of blood coating his tongue. His vision blurred, but he noticed Erica and Body had been taken away. At some point he was hauled to his feet, dragged up the stairs, and shoved into the trunk of a car. At some point he was tossed onto the hard pavement and he could vaguely recognize the high school athletic field in the background.
“Let this be a message to Scott,” Gerard’s voice was cool, calm, collected, but Stiles could hear the cruelty there, “that he better bring me Derek Hale or things will be much worse.”
At some point he heard the door slam and the car drive away. At some point he felt something wet leaking from his eyes before he found the strength to push himself up to his feet. He was in the school parking lot and there was no one around. Not even his Jeep was waiting for him and with a dead phone Stiles realized he would have to start the long walk home. He couldn’t save Boyd or Erica. He couldn’t stop Gerard from beating the ever living shit out of him. He was just a tool, a message used to pit Scott and Derek against each other. He limped forward, arms wrapping around his middle in the chilly, evening air.
He would not break. He would not break. He would not break .
There was no time to break when you ran with wolves. There was no time to break when the big bad monster was breathing down your neck, threatening to rip your life apart. There was no time to break when your friends were in danger. There was no time to break even when you were human.
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Derek stood in the middle of Stiles’ room, fighting to keep his heart steady, his head from spinning. He needed to focus, to fight the panic that was clawing its way up his throat as the scents of warm vanilla, cinnamon, and fresh pine that painfully reminded him of the preserve - his family home - overwhelmed him.
Stiles is missing
It had been like a punch to the gut. First Erica and Boyd. Now Stiles - spastic, annoying, loud mouthed, loyal, brave, beautiful - human Stiles. Derek felt like he was losing his pack all over again. He knew Stiles walked the line between himself and Scott, but ever since they had formed an alliance of sorts Derek considered Stiles just as much pack as the rest of his betas. He knew he shouldn’t have a weak spot for the human, but Derek couldn’t help himself. There was just something about Stiles, something Derek couldn’t get out of his head. And now it was slowly - and without invitation - working its way down to his heart.
So now he was standing in Stiles’ room because he needed a scent to track the boy. Scott and Isaac had grabbed something from Stiles’ locker while the Sheriff was out on patrol. It had been a few hours since the game and they still had to worry about their Jackson problem, but Derek could care less about Jackson if it meant Stiles was in danger. Derek settled for a red hoodie draped over the desk chair, the fabric worn and soft in his hands as he brought it to his nose. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent made him dizzy, but Derek almost wanted to drown in it. He could feel his wolf settling in his chest, finding comfort in the things that made up Stiles. He cleared his throat, setting the hoodie back down and turning towards the window he had come in through.
He was in the Camaro, the windows down as he took off into the night. For a small town Beacon Hills had a variety of smells one could get lost in. It was nothing compared to New York, which was completely overwhelming for his wolf senses, but still it was sometimes hard to pick out exactly what he wanted to find. He had only been driving for a few minutes when he caught it, the faintest taste of cinnamon on his tongue. He slammed on the accelerator, following the sugary scent, until it grew stronger, only to sour with pain and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. Derek felt his fangs drop, eyes flashing as his car screeched to a stop. He was out of the car and by the Stiles’ side in an instant, startling the boy.
“ Who did this to you? ”
He watched Stiles flinch, taking a small step backwards with wide, fearful eyes. Derek felt his heart ache and he used all of his will power, the sweet lingering scents of vanilla and cinnamon, to anchor himself.
“Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice trembling slightly.
“Stiles,” Derek said hesitantly reaching out, the boy's bruised and bloodied face illuminated in the street lights, “who did this to you?”
Stiles looked at Derek’s hand like he was afraid it would be used against him and Derek felt his wolf whining in his chest. He was about to pull away when Stiles slowly moved into the touch, letting his bruised cheek fall against the warm hand. Derek wasted no time, black lines running up his veins as he took some of the pain away. He could feel his claws digging into his palm on the other hand because someone had hurt Stiles, really hurt him.
“Thanks.” Stiles murmured, pulling back too soon and Derek resisted the urge to surge forward and take more pain away. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“What happened?” Derek asked because Stiles hadn’t given an answer and Derek wanted names. He wanted to rip apart the person who had touched Stiles.
“I - it,” Stiles faltered for a moment, “it was just some guys from the other lacrosse team who were upset about the game.”
Lie .
Derek frowned because he could hear the skip in Stiles’ heart, smell the lie easily, and it pained him to think Stiles felt like he had to lie to Derek.
“Stiles,” Derek said, grey-green eyes finding the weary and lost amber ones, “what really happened?”
Before Stiles could respond Derek’s phone was ringing. He quickly answered it to a panicked Sheriff on the other end.
“I found him.” Derek said immediately. He could hear the Sheriff sighing in relief, asking where they were and how his son was doing. “He -” Derek paused, looking at Stiles, the boy shaking his head, pleading with Derek not to tell his father what was probably the truth, “he said he ran into some trouble with boys from the other team.”
Derek watched as Stiles relaxed slightly and now Derek was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the truth. He had a sick feeling in his gut he knew exactly who had done this. Someone was hurt. Someone would always get hurt. Someone Derek cared for because that’s just how is fucking life was.
“I’ll bring him home.” Derek assured the Sheriff before hanging up.
Stiles was still standing just in front of Derek, still trembling, still looking fearful, still bleeding from the split in his lip. Derek felt at a loss for words as he raised his hand to usher Stiles to the car, the boy flinching again.
“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” Stiles mumbled, his head dropping to his chest. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Derek responded immediately, his hands settling gently at the small of Stiles back.
He guided Stiles to the car before he hurriedly got into the driver’s seat. Derek glanced over at Stiles every few seconds, the boy hunched in on himself, smelling like pain, misery, and self loathing. They drove in silence, something Derek never thought possible with Stiles. He hated it. Stiles was always so full of life, always ready with a snarky comment or witty remark. Even when they were in danger at the high school, only held up by Stiles’ pure stubbornness to die, he was buzzing with energy. He was practically vibrating out of his own skin half the time, but now, now he looked like a stranger.
Derek reached the house, shutting the engine off and turning to look at Stiles. Stiles just stared up at his empty, dark house and Derek could feel the boy’s panic, his chest starting to rise and fall rapidly.
“Could-” Stiles began, fingers gripping the door handle tightly, “could you…”
“Of course.” Derek said immediately. He hadn’t planned on leaving until the Sheriff had kicked him out of the house.
Stiles gave a curt nod of his head, visibly relaxing, the panic retreating for now. He got out of the car and Derek silently followed. They moved through the house, passed the kitchen, up the stairs and straight to Stiles’ bedroom. Derek almost laughed as he went through the door, he was so used to climbing through the window that it was strange coming in the normal way. His thoughts were interrupted when he nearly walked into Stiles, the latter having stopped in the middle of the room.
“Sti-”
“Gerard.” Stiles whispered just loud enough for Derek’s werewolf ears to hear. “Gerard Argent did this to me.”
“ What ?” Derek could feel how intense his snarl was as it ripped its way through his throat.
An Argent. An Argent . It was always a fucking Argent.
“He - he said it was a message.” Stiles continued his back still towards Derek, but he was shaking again, harder than before. “For you. For Scott.”
“I’m going to kill him.” The words sounded dark and dangerous even to Derek as he said them, but he didn’t care. He meant every word. He was going to kill Gerard Argent for touching Stiles.
Stiles turned now, his doe brown eyes falling over Derek, “Whoa there, big guy, it’s okay, I’m fi-”
“Don’t you dare say you’re fine.” Derek growled his anger burning hotter as he got a better look at the boy’s injuries in the light. The entire side of his left face was covered in ugly, purple bruises and a black eye was starting to form. His lip was split, dried blood caked down his chin, and Derek could see what could only be fingerprint bruises along his neck. He imagined if Stiles lifted up his shirt there would be more, but Derek didn’t want to see more. He just wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt the person that dared put Stiles through something like this.
“Token human thing, right?” Stiles tried for a smile, but Derek could see he was holding back tears.
“You’re not the token human.” Derek was fighting for control because right now Stiles didn’t need a red eyed Alpha with sharpened teeth, poised for the kill. He needed human Derek, someone that could give him a gentle touch.
“I couldn’t save them.” Stiles said and now he smelled like guilt, the overwhelming stench of self loathing enough to make Derek feel like he was choking. “He had Erica and Boyd right there and I couldn’t save them.”
“Erica and Boyd?” Derek asked, shocked. His wolf howled, the need to protect his pack strong.
“Gerard had them chained up in whatever basement he took me to.” Stiles said as he played with his fingers, eyes casted down like he was afraid to look up at Derek. “I tried to free them, but Gerard he..” Stiles’ voice broke for a moment, “and when I came to they were just gone.”
“Stiles.” Derek’s heart was in his throat because Stiles blamed himself for what had happened and Derek felt like he was looking in a mirror. “There was nothing-”
“I could have done something!” Stiles snapped. He pulled at his short hair angrily, wincing in pain as he moved. “I could have fought harder! I could have been better! Fuck!”
Derek grabbed the boy’s wrist gently, stopping him from his angry pace. Stiles was trying so hard not to cry, but Derek could see the sob sitting right on the edge of his lips, waiting to spill over any moment.
“It’s not your fault, Stiles.” Derek said as he pulled the boy close to his chest, wrapping his arms around Stiles tightly. He could feel Stiles’ fingers digging into his back, clenching the fabric of his leather jacket.
“I’m weak.”
It was muffled against his chest, but Derek could hear the words loud and clear.
“You’re human, Stiles, not weak, and it’s okay.” He said, resting his chin on the boy’s head. “You’re going to be okay.”
It was like the dam had burst wide open as Stiles broke down in Derek’s arms, sobs wracking his body. Derek didn’t know how long they stood there, holding each other, but he didn’t let go, would never let go until Stiles was through with him. When the sobs subsided Stiles pulled away, wiping at his red and swollen eyes. Derek tried not to mourn the loss of contact as Stiles silently changed out of his lacrosse uniform. He felt his anger spiking again as his eyes trailed up the boy's torso covered in splotches of black and grey. Without thinking Derek took off his shoes and jacket, crawling into bed next to Stiles who nestled into the wolf’s open arms without question.
“I’ll protect you.” Derek hummed as he buried his nose in the boy’s neck, nuzzling softly to leave his scent there. Under all the pain and harsh feelings Derek could smell the warm vanilla and cinnamon sweetening the air mixed with the earthy scent of fresh pine.
“I know.” Stiles said as he squeezed Derek’s arm, turning so he was facing the werewolf, eyes half closed, like he was falling asleep.
Derek brought his lips to Stiles forehead, pleased to hear the hum of contentment in the back of the boy's throat. He listened to Stiles’ heart as it began to slow in the beautiful rhythm of sleep.
“I’ll protect you.” Derek whispered again as he pulled Stiles a little bit closer against his chest, intent on keeping that promise for as long as he lived.