Chapter Text
Derek whined.
He made a painful, high sound when he was kicked in the face in return to his last whine. He tried to keep himself quiet afterwards: reminding himself that by crying, whining - or, well, making any kind of a sound - he was just going to piss them off more.
And he didn't want to piss them off. He really didn't. He was taken from his family so many months ago. It's been years.... It's been years since he was out of that place, and Derek didn't know anything else anymore. He did remember his past life: living with Cora, and Laura and Uncle Peter and oh, his lovely mother, always so loving and protecting, keeping him safe... until she came.
She was perfect. Everything he was dreaming of: she was beautiful, big and strong, smart and dangerous. He had him wrapped around her finger. He was so glad to do anything she asked and told him, god, he just wanted to see her smiling again - smiling, and stroking his hair, playing with it when he let him rest his head on her lap.
She'd stroke his head and sometimes even kiss his forehead and - when he was lucky enough - his mouth, making him feel safe, protected.
He was wrapped in her scent, wrapped in her love: wrapped in everything she had for him.
She loved him. And he loved her. He wanted to make her feel good, wanted to please her, wanting to make her feel as good as she made him feel.
He wanted to follow anything she said. Wanted to make sure she had everything she needed: because she'd given him so much, and she deserved it.
He was in love.
And it was wonderful. It was beautiful, a warm, tingling feeling that bloomed in his stomach and slowly filled him up.
And no one could ruin it - no one could ruin what they had.
Expect her.
She built it, and she could ruin it. She built him, and she ruined him.
And everything fell apart once she decided. He remembered the day he returned home. A few years ago, probably no longer than four or five - even though Derek was really struggling to keep track of the time down there - but he didn't forget it. He wished he could, but he didn't, he would never.
Laura died. Cora died. Mom and dad were dead. Who knows where was Uncle Peter and Uncle Steve and Aunt Mary and cousin Miguel and his three-year-old little nephew that barely had any fangs in her tiny mouth.
Apparently, Kate knew.
Because before he even managed to understand what he was seeing - that that damn fire was burning down his house, his home, he was captured.
By the woman he loved. And god, it was painful. He never forgot how happy she was when she finally had him where she actually wanted.
She looked happier than he'd ever seen her: smiling and laughing and grinning and smirking and moving around from place to place looking like she's just won the lottery.
Well, she did win the big prize. She took down a whole pack of werewolves.
But Derek, of course. She wanted to keep him. He was precious, she said, he'd been useful. She told him how useful he was, what a good boy he'd been...
How he listened to every word she said, how he provided her with every answer she wanted - how he taught her how to sneak into the house when his parents were asleep so they could spend the night together. How to unlock the door and slip in, and how to lock it back up and make it seem like no one was ever there.
Or, she always reminded him, how to lock those doors and keep all the mutts in the house while it's on fire.
She never stopped praising him. She never stopped reminding him how he was the reason she managed to do all of that, how he was the one who lead her into the house, how he was the one to give her all the information she ever needed.
Derek wished he was inside of the house when it was set on fire. He wanted nothing more than that right now, actually.
He'll be with his family again - they'll be together, and he won't feel like he left them and stayed in the living room, while everyone else was dead because of him.
Oh, but Kate would never grant his wish. No, she enjoyed keeping him much more. That was for sure. Even when he was no longer in her hands, she passed him from one hunter to another, from one hunters' base to a different one, let them all take their turns on the werewolf. Let them all train on him, let them all test their weapons - their wolfsbane infused daggers and arrows, their wolfsbane poison that they wanted to test on every single part of his body to see how high he could whine and how loud he could beg.
There was always another hunter. Another human, another cruel creature to remind him of his place, to say he needed to be tamed and forced into submission, even though Derek didn't even remember resisting them in the past three years. Hell, he didn't even growl or tried to pull away.
But it didn't change their mind. No, he was still a monster - tamed or not, submissive or not, scared and injured or not.
He was a werewolf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes, Stiles hated hunters. He usually hated them when he arrived places and found injured humans, or supernatural creatures that didn't hurt anyone lying dead on the ground.
Sometimes, Stiles hated hunters even more. A lot more. Today was one of the times where he really, really hated them, and was actually very pissed. Piseed enough to end up going after some of them. There as a vampire nest of vampires that fed on cattle instead on humans: but it seemed like that for those certain hunters, it wasn't enough. Stiles managed to find what was left from the nest. The new Alpha vampire, after the previous leader of the nest, was killed by one of the hunters, along with three young vampires-to-be. Two of them carried the supernatural gene that, at some point - usually a bit after puberty would hit them - will be activated and let them supernatural side take over. The younger child - he was probably no older than ten - was a very sick boy. His mother and father were killed a few months ago, by a rough vampire that really, really needed to be fed. That vampire was killed by the former Alpha of that nest, but the kid was left on his own. He was taken into the nest instead, and they let him grow and decide whether he wants to be bitten when he's older or not.
Stiles didn't have a problem with it. Of course, some hunters would still try and kill them, because they might get out of control one day - but Stiles felt like unless they killed first, he wasn't supposed to hurt them.
Not to mention, that at least for now - three out of the remaining nest members were human, along with one older vampire.
The rest were dead. Their head was cut and their bones were burned, leaving them as nothing but ash.
Needless to say, Stiles wasn't a fan. He didn't always get along with supernatural creatures, even if they were quiet and didn't hurt anyone - sometimes they believed to be better than humans and that they were superior to them, sometimes his past couldn't let go of him and the sight of a vampire's fangs or a werewolf's claws made it harder for him to sit still and not pull his gun up and aim at them. And sometimes, they were just dicks, and he really wanted to shoot those assholes.
And yet, he had self-control. He kept the gun, the arrows, the daggers, and the knives to the real killers: not those who were different from him.
And
So when he had a chance to go and check on those hunters - along with the new Alpha of the small, almost completely destroyed nest to go after them and see what the hell were they thinking, and if they were going to go after other creatures - or, well, humans - because if they didn't have a problem hurting supernatural innocent creature, there probably wouldn't be a problem to do the same for humans.
So the young hunter headed through the halls of the base, after the vampire - Ariel - helped him to find the place with his strong sense of smell, keeping it quiet when he heard steps. He always looked at Ariel for approval: to make sure he couldn't hear or smell any other humans too close to them.
In a few moments, they were already in the kitchen. Ariel was much faster than him, and in a matter of seconds, the vampire was behind the old, blonde hunter that was sitting on the chair while he was reading the newspaper, twisting his head to the side and breaking his neck.
One down. Five more to go, Stiles reminded himself. The vampire didn't seem to have a problem to slaughter all of them, but Stiles settled with just hitting the ones he captured at the back of their heads with his gun, strongly - or, well, at least enough to knock them off, and let them be.
For once, though, he didn't tie them up, since he pretended to head forwards and not stop and waste time on them. He didn't really have a doubt that the moment he moved to the next room, Ariel broke their necks. Considering the fact they all slaughter his nest and tried to kill three still-humans kids, Stiles pretended he didn't even notice it. The expression on Ariel's face made it clear for him that the vampire was aware that Stiles understood what he was doing, and that he was grateful for him keeping quiet.
They headed through the rooms again and again. The place was quiet. Of course, it was probably because they killed (or knocked-off, but then killed by Ariel, Stiles thought to himself) five out of six of the people in that place.
He made sure his gun was ready to fire. He could shoot the man without taking a risk of anyone hearing them. After all, the place was empty. Well, it did have corpses, but Stiles didn't count them.
Stiles frowned after a few minutes of wandering around the base and finding nothing. He didn't know what he was looking for, actually: who said that last hunter was going to be there? maybe he was out of the base? Were they looking for weapons and money to take from them or information about the rest of the hunters?
He wasn't sure, but either way, Stiles made sure to take it all with him. He took the weapons that seemed good enough and worth keeping, the poison and anything that could be useful. Of course, he also took their wallets - because fuck them, he could, and they were dead, so they couldn't do anything about it.
He'll get himself some curly fries for that later.
But then, he forced himself to focus on the mission again. Finding that last hunter, he reminded himself.
Ariel stopped walking. He sniffed the air and looked around, frowning and looking confused. Stiles was giving him a strange look.
"What's wrong?" he asked, not sure what he smelled, or heard, or heck - he didn't know with vampires, maybe even saw.
Ariel didn't answer. Instead, he took a step closer to the end of the hall and sniffed the air again. Stiles was half tempted to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but decided not to.
Ariel took another step then stopped. He looked at Stiles before he focused his gaze on the wall again. "There are stairs," he said after a moment, "At the other side of the wall. There are stairs that lead to a basement."
Stiles' eyes widen in surprise. He thought it was cool, but kept his mouth shut about it. Instead, he moved closer and rested his hand on the wall. "Alright," he said, nodding, "Then there must be a secret door or a way to open that door," he said, trying to touch the wall and see if he could feel anything strange, find any way to open the door.
"Listen," he told Ariel, that watched him with a confuse look, "I need you to scent around and see if you can smell anything weird, alright? just check of there's anything you can smell and anything that's not, well, a fucking wall."
The vampire nodded, and Stiles was just about to thank him before he punched the wall at a certain point. The noise was strong and loud, and there was a big hole in the wall, with broken pieces of drywall on the floor and on the second side of the room, behind the wall.
"What the fuck, Ariel?" Stiles asked, making the vampire shrug, "You told me to scent around. I did. You didn't tell me not to punch the wall."
Stiles sighed. He hit the wall with one of his knives, cutting through it and making the hole bigger so they could get through that, making another loud noise.
"Fuck you," Stiles commented, before he slipped through the wall, "It's ain't gonna be useful to be quiet now. Let's go."
The vampire shrugged and followed him down the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The knife piercing through his skin made every part of Derek's body itch and tingle. He was sure the metal had wolfsbane infused in it. He was shifted, even though he didn't growl or try to fight the man. He stopped doing that years ago.
The man in front of him laughed and slapped his face harshly. "That's a dirty little mutt I've got here," he chuckled, "Jesus, wolf. Sometimes I wonder if I should get here more of my friends so we could play together," he laughed.
Derek shivered but didn't say anything. He tried to keep quiet as much as he could. He was pretty sure he heard steps outside of the basement, up in the house itself, but he assumed these were the rest of the hunters that lived there. They visited him from time to time, too.
The hunter seemed like he was about to say another thing, but then Derek wasn't focused on him. No, there was a loud noise coming from upstairs. He was sure the hunter heard it as well because he dropped his dagger on the floor. Derek didn't know what was going on, but soon, two new scents hit his nose. One was human, and it reeked of weapons and blood. Derek guessed it was a hunter. He shivered in fear and whined quietly, not wanting another hunter to... join the party, as they told him long ago. But there was another scent - something that for sure, wasn't human.
A vampire? could it be? Derek didn't smell a vampire for years now, but there was no way he could make a mistake with that scent. The stench of death and blood was all over the place. It had to be a vampire.
He then heard steps, and the hunter that was... playing with him, pulled away from him and turned back. He grabbed his knife again and turned back to face the intruders that came. He watched as the human - probably a hunter, as he already guessed, aimed his gun at his tormentor's head, and shot.
Derek whined again. What was going on? He'd never seen one hunter killing another. They usually played together and came to hurt him all at once...
But this wasn't something he was used to. The werewolf flinched back and pressed his back against the wall, trying to stay as far as he could from those who came to visit him.
The vampire moved closer and kicked the body of the dead hunter before he leaned a little closer. He looked at the only live human in the room.
"You ain't gonna burn or bury those bodies," the vampire stated, and the human nodded. They didn't deserve this respect.
Then, he moved back to the stairs. "You know where my nest is. Tell me if you need me," he told him.
Stiles chuckled. "You're welcome, Ariel," he said before he focused his look back on the werewolf.
"Well... what do we have here? a puppy?" he asked, moving closer to the werewolf, making Derek flinch back again. But there was no pain.
Instead, the voice was a little softer, and the human spoke again.
"Definitely a puppy. Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."