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Somewhere between holding him up in eight feet of water and putting himself between Erica and Isaac and the Kanima, Derek began to think of Stiles as pack. And while he’d always felt himself drawn to the scrawny teenager, even from that first day in the woods, he’d thought of Stiles as something he didn’t deserve. A friend.
Which meant he usually tended to pick up the phone on the first ring once Stiles was calling. This time was no different.
“Jackson is at the game.” Stiles opened. Derek frowned and exchanged a look with Peter. “Gerard is here too. You need to get here.”
“I’m working on something to heal Jackson. I can’t be there right now.” Stiles let out a frustrated noise.
He looked up at the stands where his father was seated. Him and Melissa McCall were engaged in some conversation that had his father laughing, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.
“Derek, I swear to god if anything happens to my dad because you idiots are too sentimental to create permanent solutions to our problems, I am going to lose it.” Derek sighed.
“Look, I’ll send Peter out to try to find Boyd and Erica.” Derek tried to compromise. “And I’ll text Isaac.”
“Thank you.” Stiles clenched his hands into fists, looking up when Coach Finstock pointed at him.
The game was going alright, with Stiles making quite a few goals, which was great. Then Isaac got knocked off the field.
Then they won! Which was even better, but then Stiles was hauled into the back of Gerard Argent’s SUV. Gerard stepped back to pop another one of his pills and Alison came up to the vehicle.
“Alison!” Stiles let out a breath of relief. “Your grandfather is trying to take me somewhere.” He tried to open the door but it was still locked. “Open the door. Get me out before he realizes you’re here to help.”
“I’m not.” Alison said. Stiles could feel his relief dying a slow death. “You’re going to help us find Derek.”
“Derek?” In the recesses of his mind, he could picture Derek sitting at the Hale house with Peter, researching whatever they were going to use to cure Jackson. He wouldn’t tell Alison that. “I don’t know where Derek is, Alison. You know that.”
“Do I?” She slammed the back of her crossbow into the middle of his forehead, face completely neutral. Stiles saw stars and his vision started to go blurry at the edges. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
xxx
xxx
When he came to, he was lying on a concrete floor. He tried to use his senses to figure out where he was without opening his eyes.
He could hear the sounds of nighttime all around him. He could smell blood and something like an electrical fire. He could feel the concrete beneath his fingers which meant his hands weren’t tied. That was good.
He opened his eyes and reared back at the sight of both Erica and Boyd strung up to the ceiling like cattle. Erica let out a harsh scream once she saw he was awake, but it was muffled by the thick cloth in her mouth. His head was still spinning but he had to help them.
He got into a standing position with great difficulty. He was sure that whatever crush Erica had on him had evaporated after watching him crawl onto his knees and slowly, painfully, make his way to his feet.
He started with Erica, prying the cloth from her mouth. He could still smell something like fish in the air and he had a feeling whatever was holding them up also contained lethal amounts of electricity to keep them weak.
Erica licked her lips and groaned softly. Stiles moved onto Boyd.
“There’s some kind of current in the wires.” Erica whispered and Stiles nodded, focusing on the task at hand. He kept his fingers on the cloth, gently prying it out of Boyd’s mouth until he too was able to speak.
“I thought you too were getting out of here.” Stiles chided as he stood back on the balls of his feet.
“We were.” Boyd muttered, voice hoarse. “Alison found us first.”
“Alison?” Stiles frowned and Boyd nodded, gesturing to the blood on his shirt. “She did this?”
“I thought she was going to kill us.” Erica whispered. Stiles hung his head in defeat. Gerard had obviously said or done something to Alison to make her turn on her classmates. Stiles did not care for it one fucking bit.
He reached for the knot holding Boyd up. He could practically feel the electricity running through the wires, but just like that night at the rave with the mountain ash, he imagined that he could touch it without hurting himself. He imagined freeing Boyd and Erica and them walking out of the Argent’s basement safe and sound.
His hands shook as he touched the wire. Erica hissed through her teeth, obviously expecting him to be in excruciating pain but nothing happened.
"How the hell did you do that?" Erica demanded but Stiles didn't have time for questions. He worked quickly, undoing the knot with military precision and speed.
Boyd slumped to the floor and just as Stiles turned to Erica to do the same, there was a deafening BANG. And Boyd fell to the floor, eyes drifting shut.
“What the—” He looked up the basement stairs with a horrified look. “Did you kill him, you psychotic animal?”
“Oh,” Gerard smiled that sinister smile of his. “I’m not the psychotic animal out of the four of us, Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles grit his teeth, glancing at Boyd who was obviously unconscious. “I believe that honor has to go to the two werewolves you’ve aligned yourself with tonight.” Someone else came thumping down the stairs and Stiles was disappointed but not surprised to come face to face with Alison. “A mistake on your part, I assure you.”
“What are you doing with them?” Stiles demanded. Gerard gestured to Alison and she brought him a long stick that looked like a baton. It had prongs at the end and just looking at it made Stiles sick to his stomach.
“At the moment, I’m just keeping them comfortable.” Gerard answered amiably. “I’ve tortured them to my failing heart’s content but they’ve refused to give up their Alpha.” Stiles let out a shaky breath. “It’s the beta’s instinct, unfortunately, to protect that which made them what they are.”
“Ok…” Stiles looked between Alison and Gerard who was now tossing the stick from side to side as though weighing its balance. “So what are you doing with me?”
“Well we’ve had a lot of intel about you, Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles couldn’t help the betrayed look he threw to Alison. She continued staring through him, as though he wasn’t even there. “We’ve heard of your compassion, your dedication to your best friend.” He pressed a button on the pronged baton and it zapped like a taser. Stiles flinched at the noise. “Your empathy .” Gerard Argent said the word empathy like it was filthy. “And what I’m counting on, Mr. Stilinski, is that after I’m done with all three of you, they’ll be begging me to end their meaningless existences and you will tell me exactly where I can find Derek Hale.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Stiles spat, clenching his hands into fists. “What are you, ninety?” He goaded. If he focused all of Gerard’s attention on himself, maybe Boyd would wake up and get Erica out of here. It was a shit plan, honestly, but what did he have to lose? “I could probably kick your ass up and down this room.” Gerard smiled again and Stiles realized with dismay that some kicking would happen, but he wouldn’t be the one doing it.
This first slap came as a surprise. Stiles felt like his teeth were rattling around in his gums. He could have sworn he tasted blood.
By the second slap, he was tasting blood, and he was on the ground. He locked eyes with Boyd who was slowly waking up and gestured towards a terrified looking Erica. Boyd shook his head and looked like he was thinking about crawling towards Stiles but Stiles shook his head firmly. He looked back at Erica. Boyd sighed and began crawling towards her instead.
Gerard grabbed him by the shirt and punched him right in the face. Stiles could feel the skin breaking.
“Where is Derek Hale?” Gerard demanded, fist in the air, poised to strike. “Are you ready to talk?”
“I think I’ll be ready after a few more punches.” He spat blood and possibly half a tooth right in the man’s face. “Nothing beats a try, right?” He started to laugh but Gerard punched him again.
“Ready to talk?”
“I’m not a big talker, actually.” Stiles snarked back, trying to smile. “Maybe if you’d caught me on a better day.”
“Today is the best day, Mr. Stilinski.” Gerard grinned and dropped him on the ground. Stiles felt the air leave his lungs and gasped to try to catch his breath. It was for nothing though, because Gerard drove his steel toe boot right into his ribs. He curled up into a ball, wishing, more than anything to just die.
He was sure he was delirious as he wondered how the Argents would cover it up. Would they bury him in the woods and make the town think he’d ran away? Would they just drop his body in the middle of the road? That would kill his father.
His father.
Stiles groaned. Of all the times to think about his father, now was the absolute worst. He looked up at Gerard, giving him another smile.
“I don’t know where Derek is.” Stiles said firmly. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you because you are the worst kind of person, Mr. Argent.” He rolled onto his stomach and tried to get up. “You’re a hypocrite.” Gerard raised an eyebrow. Stiles wished he could do more than distract the man as Boyd reached for Erica. “You claim to want to kill monsters yet here you are, controlling the Kanima.”
He heard a gasp and hoped it was Alison. He hoped he was shattering whatever pedestal she had put her psychotic grandfather on.
“The end justifies the means, Mr. Stilinski.” Gerard smiled, raising his leg. Instead of a kick, he stamped down, right onto Stiles’ kidney. He groaned again. “And don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing.” Boyd froze where he was about to brush Erica’s shoes. Stiles swallowed and almost gagged at the taste of blood. “Alison,” He held the baton out for her to take. She looked gleeful and Stiles regretted ever wanting to be her friend. “Do us the honors.”
“Gladly.” Her voice was cold. She turned to Boyd and smiled. “Where is Derek?” She slammed the baton into his side and he screeched. The sound made Stiles want to cover his ears. Erica screamed too and Stiles felt his heart sink lower and lower.
They were going to die down here.
“Where’s Derek, Stiles?” Alison demanded again as Boyd yelled. “Tell me where he is!” She looked like she was pressing hard enough to break the beta’s skin.
“I don’t know!” Stiles yelled again. Alison pulled the baton away and moved to Erica. Her eyes were wide but she was shaking her head at Stiles. He could basically hear what she was thinking.
Don’t tell. Don’t tell. Don’t tell. Don’t tell. Don’t tell.
Stiles felt both words with every beat of his heart. Don’t tell. Alison gave him a cruel smile and cranked the baton up a notch. Don’t tell.
Erica’s scream was ten times worse than Boyd’s. Stiles had always had a weakness for pretty faces and Erica was too pretty to be in so much pain. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
She screamed and screamed and at some point, Stiles was sure he was screaming with her. His head was pounding, his heart was practically beating out of his chest. He wanted this to end. He wanted…
His thoughts quieted.
He imagined some kind of power outage. He imagined darkness. Not much, just enough to get Erica down and crawl up the stairs. He imagined something to get them out of here.
And just like that, the lights in the basement went out. There was the electric blue coming from the taser baton thing, but once Alison put it out, they were in complete darkness. Stiles let out a relieved breath. He began to crawl, sidestepping Gerard and reaching Boyd who was still twitching from his time under the taser.
“What in the world?” Gerard muttered, storming to the light switch. He flicked it a couple of times but nothing happened. “Stay here with them. I’ll go check on the fuse.”
“The fuse is—” Alison cut off as she heard her grandfather rush up the stairs. “Where was I?” She asked, seemingly to herself but Stiles had been imagining this distraction for a while. He yanked the baton from her grasp and shoved it with all his might into her stomach. Alison let out a cough and he couldn’t see what she was doing so he turned the thing around and zapped her for good measure.
He heard the thud as she went down and let out a breath of relief.
“Boyd, you have Erica?” He asked quietly. Boyd grunted which might have been a yes or a no. Stiles wasn’t sure. “Boyd!”
“Stiles, I’m alright.” Erica’s voice was soft and still trembling. It was also a little hoarse from the screaming.
“I don’t know how much time we have. We need to get out of here.” He found his way to the stairs and made sure both of them got up.
He felt something yanking on his shirt and ended up falling backwards, head cracking painfully on the concrete.
“Why are you helping them?!” Alison demanded. Stiles couldn’t see her but he felt her as she tried to pull the baton from him. He kept a firm hand on it, pressing the button. Alison was clever though, and she was nowhere near the prongs. It did light her face up in that pretty blue light, however, and Stiles was able to throw a punch with all his weight behind it.
It caught her right in the face and she kicked him, making him double over in pain. His ribs were bruised. He was sure of it.
“I’m helping them because they’re teenagers.” Stiles answered, voice cracking. “We’re all teenagers. This isn’t what we should be doing!”
“What, should we be going to parties and getting drunk?” She demanded, grabbing his shirt again. Stiles felt her slap him and his ears were ringing from it. “Grow up, Stiles.”
“You grow up, Alison.” He spat back. “Your grandfather is using you.” He muttered. “I don’t know why, but something isn’t right.”
“My grandfather wants to kill Derek half as much as I do.” She told him. It sounded like she was smiling. “And I don’t care who gets in my way.”
“Shut the fuck up, Alison.” Stiles rolled his eyes. He pressed the button again so he could see and grabbed her by the shirt, swinging her away from the stairs and giving her a rough push. Away from Boyd and Erica who he hoped had already gotten out of the basement. He heard a clatter as she slammed into something and allowed himself a smile.
Not wasting any more time, he darted up as well, making sure to close and lock the door behind him. The house was still and he’d only been in here once so it took quite some time to navigate his way out.
He reached the front door and breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw the hulking forms of both Boyd and Erica standing there. He let himself out as quietly as possible, feeling relieved when he saw them sitting in one of the Argent’s massive SUVs.
That relief quickly turned to dread when they glanced up at him, looking panicked.
“We can’t find the keys.” Erica whispered furiously, looking up at the house. Stiles paused on the porch. Could he risk going back in to find it?
“Stiles no!” Boyd said firmly. He lumbered out of the vehicle. “We’ll have to go on foot.”
“And risk getting captured again?” Stiles’ voice was even more firm. “Wait just beyond the tree-line.” He pointed to the surrounding forest. “I’ll be back.”
“Stiles!” Erica called and Stiles steeled himself. He needed to do what had to be done. He couldn’t let Erica distract him. He turned the knob, trying to be quiet and fell backwards with a gasp when the door opened fully.
“Shit, shit, shit!” He scrambled back and fell off the porch, rolling down the stairs, hurting his already bruised ribs.
Chris Argent was standing there, staring at the two werewolves, looking mutinous. Then, when he looked down and saw Stiles, he did a double take. Chris seemed to be having a crisis of faith. He grimaced and shoved his hand in his pocket.
“I’m sorry.” He said softly, tossing Stiles the keys.
Stiles might have said something back, but the betas were on his mind more than anything else. He needed to get them to Derek and find himself a hole to cry or die in.
The roar of the engine would certainly alert Gerard that his captives were free so they had to be quick. He made sure both Erica and Boyd were secure in the back seat before saying a quick prayer to whoever might be listening.
He started the engine and sped off, breathing a sigh of relief when Alison’s house was but a blip in the distance.
They didn’t drive directly to the Hale house as that would have been a monumentally stupid decision after a night of relatively good ones. Instead, they left the Argent’s car in the middle of the intersection that led to town and trekked the couple of miles to the Hale house on foot.
It was slow going, with two weakened betas and Stiles’ injuries but they made it. Derek and Peter came to get them as soon as they caught their scent and Stiles felt like he could finally breathe once he was in the Alpha’s arms.
“The Argents…” He gasped out before the adrenaline ran out and he blacked out completely.
xxx
xxx
When he came to, he was lying in the hospital. Not an all round bad conclusion to his fustercluck of a day. He would assume everything was all good if it weren’t for the dulled pain in his chest and abdomen and the sobbing Sheriff sitting at his bedside.
“Dad…” He muttered, mouth achingly dry. Noah looked up with wide, red rimmed eyes. “I’m ok, dad.” He was at his side in seconds, pulling Stiles into a hug that hurt just a little.
“Stiles, what the hell happened to you?!” He demanded, burying his hands in the hospital gown. “I thought you ran off after the game and then I get a call—” He began to sob again, a harsh sob that seemed to tear through his entire body. Stiles could feel his shoulders shaking.
Stiles was already mentally coming up with a lie, something involving the opposing team and Stiles’ own notoriously bad mouth, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was:
“Where’s Erica and Boyd? Are they ok?”
Noah pulled away and gave him an odd look, but nodded all the same.
“They’re in the waiting room.” He told his son. “They look a little worse for wear too, mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
“Is Derek around?” Stiles asked instead and Noah frowned. “Derek Hale, dad? You remember him, right?”
“Yes, I remember Derek Hale.” His voice was immediately suspicious. “He’s in the waiting room too, what do you want with him?”
Stiles ran a hand over his face. The truth was, he was done with the lies. He didn’t want to come up with another flimsy excuse that would leave his dad looking at him like he was the world’s most disappointing son.
And, with the Sheriff on their side, they might have a better chance at protecting him from the Argents and maybe even making Gerard face some kind of punishment for what he did to three sixteen year old children.
“Derek.” Stiles said at a normal volume. Noah was still looking at him, frown deepening by the second. “I have to tell him. Please.”
He wondered if Derek could even hear him in the noise of the busy hospital. He was hoping that the Alpha was listening.
There was a knock at the door and Stiles let out a long sigh that made him wince. Derek stood there, looking concerned.
“Are you ok?” He asked in a voice softer than Stiles had ever heard it. Stiles nodded. Derek glanced at the Sheriff. “Sheriff, I think you need to take a seat.”
“How did he hear you all the way down there?” Noah asked, sitting back down on the chair. Derek and Stiles exchanged a look, one pleading, one resigned. Derek nodded.
“Ok, dad. I’m going to tell you everything, but you have to promise not to go storming out of here once you know.” Stiles began. Noah gave him a look that didn’t promise a damn thing. “I didn’t run off.” He began, wanting to get the hard part out of the way. He would have nightmares about Gerard’s beating and Alison’s betrayal for weeks to come. He was sure of it. “I was kidnapped by Gerard Argent.”
“Your principal?” Noah gave him a dubious look. “Why would your principal want to kidnap you?”
“Because Erica, Boyd, and I were protecting someone that he wants to kill.” Noah swallowed, but nodded to show he was listening. “Do you remember how I told you the Argents were hunters?” Noah nodded again. “They don’t hunt animals.”
“What do they hunt?” Noah asked and Stiles opened his mouth but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again but the words just wouldn’t form. Derek stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Werewolves, Sheriff.”
Noah Stilinski, who had experienced all manner of weird things during his eight year tenure as a Sheriff, gaped. He might have questioned it, had Derek not flashed his Alpha red eyes at him.
“Wait, so…” He looked down at Stiles. “Are you a werewolf too?”
“No, dad!” Stiles said immediately, ducking his head.
“Not for a lack of trying.” Derek commented under his breath. Stiles gave him a dirty look and he smiled his first honest to god smile.
“I’m not a werewolf. But Scott is.” Noah let out a breath. “So is Isaac.”
“And Erica, and Boyd.” Derek squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. “A lot of the cases you’ve worked on have been supernatural in nature.” Noah nodded, looking properly stunned.
“Jesus,” He breathed. “Does Melissa know? About Scott?”
“She does.” Stiles confirmed, trying to smile. Noah stood abruptly. “You gonna go talk to her about it?” He asked uncertainly and Noah nodded. He left the room before Stiles could say anything else. “Scale of one to ten?”
“I’d say about a clear seven.” Derek answered with a smile. Stiles fell back onto the pillow and groaned at the pain. “He’ll be ok.”
“How sure are you of that?”
“Pretty sure.” He had an enigmatic smile on his face. “Melissa is doing a pretty damn good job of talking him through this.”
“Well that’s good.” Stiles nodded, finally relaxing. Derek placed a hand on his upper arm and he felt his pain drain away. He let out a content sigh.
“...and now they’re kissing.” Stiles shot up, glad Derek had taken away his pain as that would have hurt like a bitch otherwise.
“What?!"
“Calm down, Stiles.” Derek placed a hand on his cheek. Stiles felt his heartbeat stutter and Derek smirked when he heard it. “You’re an idiot.” Derek muttered, bringing his head down so they were face to face. “But, thank you for saving our pack.” Stiles nodded slowly, head foggy with fantasies of Derek ravishing him on this very hospital bed. “Erica told me what you did.”
“I would have done it for anyone.”
“That’s what makes you so special.” He could feel Derek’s breath fanning his face. “I appreciate it.” Stiles leaned in and closed his eyes, hoping Derek would kiss him. It was a long shot. They'd had a few of what Stiles was starting to think of as 'near misses'.
There was the night after the Kanima pool incident when Derek met him on his porch and thanked him for saving his life. They'd stood in silence for what felt like ages, just staring at each other, before the Sheriff got home and he was gone in the blink of an eye.
Then there was the night after Matt had tried to kill them all when Stiles had to hold Derek back to stop him from attacking Gerard Argent while he claimed the Kanima. They'd stood on the bridge watching Gerard drown Matt and Stiles had a panic attack right there. Derek had to calm him down, rubbing his shoulders, whispering soothing words that made him feel warm all over just thinking about it.
There was a beat of silence and when he opened his eyes, Derek was smiling at him with a soft look on his face, hazel eyes shining with warmth.
“Not fair.”
“Your dad is the Sheriff.” Derek reminded him. “There’s no way I’m racking up a ‘making out with a minor’ charge right after beating the murder charge.” Stiles snorted. Derek began to leave when something occurred to Stiles.
“Wait, our pack?!” Derek gave him another enigmatic smile and pulled the door open. Erica and Boyd were waiting just outside.
“Goodnight, Stiles.”
Erica and Boyd shuffled into the room then, and with Boyd taking the seat next to him and Erica curled up at his side, it was the best sleep Stiles had had in a long ass time.