Hey guys this is my first teen wolf fic. It's my own twist to the much loved Stiles/Derek pairing. Please let me know your thoughts and enjoy. L.J
If anyone would wish to read the full explicit copy of this fic it is posted up on AO3 under the same name.
Light tapping echoed around the otherwise silent bed room. Stiles Stilinski sat crossed legged at the end of his bed, drumming his pen against the page of his open text book. No matter how hard he tried to focus after reading two or three words his mind would wonder back to the recent events, the Alpha pack, finding Boyd and Erica along with Cora Hale, Heathers death, the other sacrifices, the Darach and the list goes on. "Damn It!" Stiles launches the book across the room feeling a small amount of satisfaction when it hits the wall. Thankfully his Dad was working nights at the Sheriff's station and wouldn't be home till the early hours of the morning. Speaking of early hours, he looked over at his alarm clock that was showing 3:24AM. Damn again.
Stiles sighed and flopped back onto his bed, looking up at the cracks in the ceiling that were lit up by the partial moon light. He mentally cursed his ADHD addled brain for not being able to give him a moment of peace and quiet.
While lost in thought Stiles almost missed the buzzing of his phone. Rolling over as fast as he could he grabbed his mobile and looked at the caller ID. It was Scott, wondering for a moment what terror had occurred now, he tapped the answer button.
"Hey Dude, what's up?"
"Stiles, Its erm we sort of have slight issue" Scott sounded like he was close to wolfing out.
"What do you mean sort of have an issue?" Stiles tried to keep from snapping at his best friend.
"It's Isaac, he is here at my house. He turned up about an hour ago. Derek kicked him out after throwing a glass at him, he is quite shaken up. He had a panic attack, lucky I had my old inhaler and remembered what you told me".
Stiles stared at the wall blankly for a second before replying. "Did he say why Derek kicked him out?"
"He doesn't know. He came back after school and Derek had already packed all his stuff in a bag, he threw it at Isaac and screamed at him to get out. When he asked Derek if he had done anything wrong that's when the glass got thrown. Isaac first went to the old hale house but its surrounded by fences, he came here after". Stiles could hear the mixture of emotions in Scott's voice. He took in a shallow breath and tried to sound calm.
"Just make sure Isaac is ok, tomorrow me and you will go and have a word with Derek"
"Thanks man, I just wanted to make sure I have done the right thing"
"Yea Scott you did the right thing, now let's get some sleep before rip the sourwolf a new one". Scott chuckled on the other end before agreeing and saying good night and hanging up.
Finally Stiles could let his anger rage. After everything Derek had put Isaac through this was the worst, treating him like his father used to and then subsequently making him homeless. Stiles was no alpha but he was certainly seeing red. Fuck taking Derek on in the morning with Scott, he was going to tackle the arsehole Alpha right now.
He jumped off his bed and tripped on his jeans that were lying on the floor. He pulled them on then stumbled around in the dark looking for his plaid top that he had worn the day before, once found on the other side of the room he slipped it on. Stiles left out of the front door only just remembering to grab his coat and keys. He locked the front door and jumped into the jeep, slamming the old girl into reverse and backed of the drive then sped off down the road.
The drive to Derek's went in a flash; it helped knowing all the back streets of Beacon Hills. Pulling up in front of the old building Stiles was sure Derek knew he was here from the sound of the jeep misfiring as it came round the corner. He jumped out and slammed the door shut for good measure. He made his way into the building and up the thousand flights of stairs having too pause every hundred to catch his breath. Once at the top he clung to the banister to stop himself from falling back down the mountain he had just climbed, as he was trying to compose himself before facing the big bad wolf the sliding door to the loft clanked open and revealed Derek Hale leaning against the door frame.
"What are you doing here Stiles its 4 o'clock in the morning" Derek spoke in that tone that said Stiles-Im-going-to-rip-your-throat- out-with-my-teeth.
Stiles stared vacantly for a second. Derek was wearing nothing but black cotton shorts, his hair was a mess and his natural ocean green eyes seemed sunken and tired. Was Derek always this… WHOA brain stop. Stiles pulled tight on the reigns of his mind and brought it back to the current moment. Quickly he reminded himself of why he was here and why he wanted to punch Derek in his perfect face.
"I'll tell you why I'm here arsehole, I'm here because you kicked out a teenage boy in the middle of winter, I'm here because you treated him exactly like his abusive psychopathic father used to, I'm here because I want I answers for your shitty stupid behaviour toward an innocent boy who YOU turned into a werewolf!" Stiles gasped in a deep breath to replace the oxygen he had just used ranting.
He glared at Derek waiting for him to shout and rage his pathetic excuse. Stile almost collapsed when all that the werewolf did was look at him blankly then turn around and walk back into the loft leaving the door wide open and the hyperactive teenager stood there like an idiot.
Feeling his anger boiling over, Stiles stomped inside after the brooding werewolf, who was now sat in a chair by the table in front of the large window that looked out over Beacon Hills. Stiles stood in front of the window blocking Derek's view. The older man glared at him before looking down at a book that lay open on the table.
"For fuck sake Derek you owe me answers!" Stiles shouted banging his fist on the table.
Derek slammed the book shut and sharply stood to his full intimidating height. "I don't owe you anything!" He then violently pushed the chair away and casually walked to the corner of the large open room to where he kept his weights.
Before he even knew what had happened Stiles found himself caught up with the werewolf and his hand was on Derek's shoulder pulling him to turn around and face him. He glared at the older man and tightened his grip. "Yes you do! You can't just abandon a member of your pack, especially the way you did to Isaac, and not expect us to want answers!"
Derek's eyes met his in what only could be described as a resigned, forlorn gaze. Stiles took the moment to wonder when he had grown to the same height as Derek. He was snapped out of his thought by the older werewolf gently pushing his hand off his shoulder and taking a step back to increase the distance between them.
"It's better this way, he will be safe" Derek's voice was soft , it almost surprised stiles that his voice could sound so lost.
"What do you mean Derek?" Stiles questioned calmly.
Derek turned his back again and Stiles stared at the triskelion tattoo between the older man's shoulder blades patiently waiting for an answer. Hours seemed to pass and both men did not speak. Trying to encourage the werewolf Stiles to a few steps forward and placed his hand lightly on Derek's shoulder.
Derek growled deep in his throat before yanking Stiles hand off and facing him, eyes red and fangs bared.
"It Doesn't Matter!" Derek roared, scaring Stiles into leaping away. The werewolf strode forward and grabbed the teen by the collar of his plaid shirt, forcing his back into the nearest beam pinning him to it. " It doesn't matter why Stiles, I can't stand him, you or anyone else around. So get out and don't come back. In fact tell the others to stay away and never come near me again!" He slammed Stiles into the beam one last time before letting him drop to the floor and stormed to the other side of the room.
Stiles knelt speechless on the floor trying to possess what had just occurred. He blinked back tears and felt he familiar tightening in his chest of an oncoming panic attack. Clenching his hands into fists atop his knees he tried to focus on catching his breath and stop himself from making a fool of himself in front of Derek Hale. Just as he was starting to calm Derek's shouted.
"Didn't you hear me! Get Out!"
Stiles jumped to his feet and ran for the door, only once he was through it he turned and shouted back. "Fuck You Derek, I hope you fucking die!"
Stiles flung himself down each flight of stairs until he reached the ground floor. He ran straight towards the jeep fumbling with his keys to find the one he needed to open the door and start the engine. Once inside he aggressively starts the engine and shifts the jeep into drive and floors the gas to get away from Derek as fast as he can.
Driving as far away as he can Stiles feels tears slide down his cheek. How could Derek do this to him? All he had wanted was to get answers why the werewolf had hurt Isaac and to see if he could help make things better. Derek's voice is still ringing in his ears almost as if he is sat in the seat next to him, screaming GET OUT over and over again.
Stiles knows he can't go home now, his Dad will be home now and he knows he can't face his old man with red rimmed eyes and the look that he knows is on his face. Not to mention the awkward questions that would be thrown his way as he walks through door that leads to a full out interrogation.
Finally paying attention to the road in front of him Stiles finds himself driving along the edge of the preserve. Of course he would subconsciously here, after his mom died he would wonder the streets late at night while his dad through himself into work and he always ended up at the preserve. Luckily for his younger self he was unaware of the supernatural world that would have left him hiding under his bed.
Looking around properly he realises he is now not far from the old Hale house. Stiles grits his teeth and pinches his own thigh forcing himself to calm and focus on clearing his mind. He can't keep thinking about what happened he needed to focus on something else. Since he was here he might as well drive up to his favourite place on the preserve, the ridge, and watch the sunrise.
The teen drives slowly through the preserve on the old dirt track that leads to the ridge passing the burnt out, fenced off husk of the Hale house. He pulls up in the usual spot and takes out his phone to check the time, 6:08AM, which meant just over two hours until sunrise. He quickly flicked through his messages and saw one from his dad saying he guessed Stiles was staying at Scott's and to call him in the morning before school. Stiles just shrugged and threw his phone on the empty passenger seat.
Turning of the engine Stiles enjoys the sound of silence and the light breeze flowing through the trees. He instantly feels a chill as the heater stops, leaning over to the back seats he finds Scott's lacrosse jacket left behind from the game last Friday. He slips the jacket on and instantly feels the warmth of it.
Stiles now opens the door and climbs out of the jeep, he walks over the large rock that marks the highest point of the ridge, he looks out over Beacon Hills. All the street lights and the few unfortunate households that are still awake this early in the morning, It all looks so beautiful from this vantage point. Perching his arse on the edge of the rock Stiles turns his gaze up to the sky, the stars and the half-moon mirror the beauty of the land below.
Stiles now let his mind wonder, in times like this he doesn't even try to keep up with his own thoughts. When he lets his ADHD take over his mind moves faster and it's impossible to keep track of all the thoughts in his head so he just sits and let it happen. All his other senses are turned off as he stares blankly out into the night.
When his mind starts to slow down having worn its self out Stiles realises he is once again freezing, Scott's jacket no longer doing its job in keeping him warm. He looks back out at the view in front of him and realises his has missed the sunrise, its already peaking up above the horizon lighting the town in an orange hue. Still beautiful he thinks. Pulling out his phone from his pocket he realises its 8:23, wow he really should get home.
He slowly moves off the rock, his muscles aching from the cold, and walks back to the jeep opening the driver's door and jumping in. He attempts to turn the engine over and turn the heater on but the old girl is having none of it. Sighing he jumps out and goes to the trunk to get his spanner and industrial flashlight.
Once he has the hood up and is looking at the useless engine he begins his usual routine of hitting everything that could get the thing to turn over and bring his baby back to life.
A loud crack makes Stiles jump and turn around looking for the creator of the sound. He mentally curses himself for forgetting the supernatural protection kit that Deaton had made for him. He uses the powerful flash light to see further into the tree line that is still in darkness, unable to see anything he blames it on his nerves.
Just as Stiles turns back to the engine he feels a sharp pain in the back of his right calf. Letting out an agonizing scream he drops the flashlight and spanner before falling to the floor in unbearable pain. The creature attacking him lets go of his leg and digs its claws into both of Stiles thighs pulling him into the bushes.
Stiles continues to scream as loud as he can an tries to reach for something that he can grab hold of anything that might help him fight off this beast. He manages to get his left hand on a thick branch and uses all of his strength to swing it around and hit the creature in the head. As he looks in its direction a pair of angry red eyes glare back at him before letting out a piercing roar and going for the full attack. Stiles can do nothing but scream as he feel each bit rip through his flesh and the slash of claws tear at his flesh. Suddenly he goes numb and silent as his vision starts to blur. This is not how he envisioned his death but there is nothing he can do. He hears a final loud roar before everything goes dark.
Consciousness slowly begins to come back to him. Stiles manages to open his eyes slightly to see the blur of a dark haired figure learning over him, his hearing comes back enough for him to hear a very familiar voice whisper. "Stiles, forgive me". He doesn't have time to respond before another sharp pain radiates from the juncture of his neck and right shoulder. He suddenly feels a surge of power flood his body as his muscles spasm. Stiles opened his now red eyes and roars.