Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

Warnings: Multiple character deaths. And sadness. Just all around sadness. Oh yeah, and spoilers for season 2.

A/N: This is my reactionary piece of writing to the latest episode of Teen Wolf, 2x11 'Battlefield'. It contains no spoilers from that particular episode, so you're safe there, but it does contain a lot of spoilers leading up to that episode, especially from 2x10 'Fury'. This is based on how I felt when I saw a scene that occurred in the latest episode. You know the one I'm talking about. The one where Allison went all mmmhmm on blank and blank. Sorry, if you haven't seen the episode I'm trying to save you from getting spoiled. But yeah, this is a pretty dark, sad story, which I normally don't write. I'm more humorous and smutty. But I do hope you like this. Okay, enough preamble. And now the story.

**Flashbacks in italics.**

Safe and Sound

He heard a howl, and went running.

That's all he remembered. The howl, so familiar, came screeching from out of the woods, and Stiles dropped everything to help. He was with Dr. Deaton, talking about ways to help the pack, when he heard it. The next thing he knew he was running through the woods, the darkness swallowing him as he whipped past tree after tree, the lights of Beacon Hills fading behind him, the cold night air hitting his face, making his eyes water as he ran blindly to the source of the howl.

He stumbled over an exposed tree root, but he quickly caught his footing, his arms flailing about to steady his balance. He didn't stop to check on the throbbing pain he felt where his foot connected with the root. He just kept running.

He heard the howl again, and he couldn't help but speed up, even though his mouth was dry and his calves were burning. Jumping over fallen trees, trying to look out for holes and places where the ground suddenly rose up without notice, Stiles did his best to navigate the dark forest. He knew with his labored breathing and trampling through the woods he should have been surrounded by hunters by now, and the fact that he wasn't only scared him more. If there were no hunters around, they were all in one place: wherever the howling was. Just when he heard it starting up again it was cut off, and he couldn't help the lump forming in his throat when he realized he might not make it in time.

He knew that howl. He'd heard it a million times before.

"Why do you howl like that?" Stiles asked, his feet dangling and swinging back and forth carelessly as he sat atop the subway car that Derek called home.

"Like what?" Derek asked, dodging a blow from Erica before kicking her back. Boyd came barreling towards him, but, using his weight against him, Derek sent him tumbling to the floor.

"Like a lion," Stiles said, sipping his pouch of Capri Punch. "It wasn't like that before."

"I'm the Alpha now," Derek explained, jumping over Isaac so quickly that the younger wolf didn't know where to look until it was too late and Derek had flipped him to the ground. "My howl is strongest. Something to do with the vocal chords."

"Well I hope it fixes your gag reflex, because I'd really like you to blow me without retching every fifteen seconds," Stiles said, whipping out his cell phone so he could reprimand Scott for not being at the pack training session with everyone else.

Derek smirked, used to Stiles lack of filter by now. When Erica, Boyd, and Isaac exchanged confused looks, however, he shifted back into Alpha mode. "Alright, everybody. Five minute break, then we're back on defensive skills," he clapped, letting them rest before he tore into them again. "And shouldn't you be getting home?" he yelled to where Stiles was watching them.

"I'm having too much fun," Stiles shrugged, a smile on his face. He blew a kiss to Derek, who rolled his eyes and went to go fetch some water for his aching pups.

Stiles wiped back the tears forming in his eyes, sniffling back the snot dripping out of his nose as he ran on. He could hear voices now; indiscernible, but human voices none the less. He didn't even have a plan for when he got to the hunters. All he knew was that he had to help Derek.

His jacket kept flapping with every leap and bound, the zipper snagging on a branch and tripping him up as he ran. He pulled the branch from the tree, snapping it in half before hastily pulling the zipper free. Throwing it aside, he continued his marathon, knowing that he should have just left the jacket instead of stopping. He couldn't have done that, though; this jacket was too precious, and Derek would kill him if he let anything happen to it.

"Are you cold?" Derek asked, not even taking his eyes off the movie screen. He knew Stiles was cold; the theater was freezing, and he could hear his boyfriend's teeth chattering like a baby's rattle.

"No," Stiles lied, breathing into his hands and rubbing them together. He popped the collar on his button-up shirt, hoping it would shield him from the unrelenting AC.

"Here," Derek said, holding out his jacket. Stiles looked at it warily; it was his leather jacket, the one he'd worn every day since Stiles could remember. When Stiles still hadn't taken it Derek huffed, pushing Stiles' back off the chair and draping it over his shivering boyfriend.

"Thanks," Stiles said softly, drawing it closer around his body. God, it even smelled like Derek. He slipped his arms through the sleeves before leaning over and gratefully kissing his boyfriend. He detected the slightest smile on Derek's face, but when the movie screen got brighter and illuminated the theater he saw it was gone. He didn't care, though. He snuggled closer to Derek, who wrapped his arm protectively around Stiles' shoulder, drawing him closer.

Derek's leather jacket gleaned in the moonlight, protecting Stiles from scratches from the underbrush as well as the bitter cold of the night. He nearly tripped again, this time over a flattened tire pulled from a four-wheeler. He quickly glanced at the shredded rubber of the tire, and couldn't help but smirk as he resumed his running. 'You go, Derek,' he thought, mentally cheering his boyfriend on for taking down at least one of the hunters' vehicles. He ran on, ignoring the pounding in his head, his mouth dry and his feet aching.

He entered a clearing, the moonlight illuminating the darkness and shadows. He jumped over a fallen tree, making a beeline straight to the howling he knew to be Derek. He was lying on the ground, writhing around in agony. Stiles slid to him as if he were stealing home, the dust from the forest floor rising up around them as he looked anxiously to his boyfriend.

"Derek!" Stiles grasped his boyfriend's shirt, trying to pull him up.

"Agh!" Derek cried, unable to help Stiles move him. He fell back in pain, his left leg stiff and still as his right leg lay bent at an odd angle while dozens of broken arrow shafts lay strewn around him, the tips still lodged inside his body.

"Sorry! Sorry," Stiles said, stroking Derek's head. "Can you move?"

Derek shook his head, his teeth grinding together as he tried to bite back the pain. He was clutching at his leg, and when Stiles looked down he could see the broken tip of an arrow piercing through the calf.

"Oh my God! Jesus – here, let me help you up," Stiles said, ready to make another try at moving Derek.

"No," Derek said, pushing Stiles away. "You have to go."

"What?" Stiles asked, grasping Derek's hand and holding it tightly. "Derek, I'm not going anywhere."

"Stiles, you have to go," Derek said, squeezing Stiles' hand and focusing his stare into his eyes. "Do you hear me? You have to leave, now!"

"Derek, I – ," Stiles began.

"Damn it, Stiles! Now is not the time to be stubborn," Derek said, howling out in pain as the shaft of the arrow shifted in his leg and the wound opened. "Aargh! Stiles…GO…NOW!"

"Derek, shut up!" Stiles screamed, shouting over his boyfriend's howls. "I'm not leaving you, okay? I'm never going to just, leave!" Tears were streaming down his face as he forced his boyfriend to lie still, grabbing him by the shoulders to keep his movement to a minimum. "So, stay still," he said, messily wiping back the tears that made tracks down his dirty face. "I'm going to drag you and – agh!" An arrow cut through the air, shooting straight into Stiles. "Fuck!" he yelled, staring with disbelief at the arrow that jutted out of his shoulder. He then turned to Derek, whose eyes were piercing red even in the dark, moonlit clearing. Derek began breathing more rapidly, his teeth sharpening and his nails digging into the soft dirt as he saw the boy he loved in pain.

"You have really big hands," Stiles said, turning over Derek's palm and tracing the lines with his fingers. Derek let the younger boy play with his hand, choosing to spend his time letting his eyes linger over Stiles' pale skin. They were lying in bed, Stiles having skipped school so he and Derek could spend the day together. Derek was stretched out across the bed, naked, while Stiles was sitting cross legged next to him, going over the hills and valleys of Derek's muscled body.

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big hands," Derek said, biting playfully into Stiles' naked leg.

"Wow, you did not just say that," Stiles said, pushing Derek away. Derek pulled Stiles down on top of him, the two rolling around on the bed, Stiles laughing while Derek did what he hadn't done in months, but what he seemed to be able to do whenever he was alone with Stiles: smile.

"What's this?" Derek asked, noticing a raised bruise on Stiles' back.

"Oh, that's…that's nothing," Stiles said brusquely. "Hey, let's go eat at that new burger place. I've been eating healthy with my dad all week, so I could really use the grease," he said as he reached for a shirt and slipped it over his head.

"Not so fast," Derek said, stopping before he got his head through and throwing the shirt across the room. "Come here," he commanded, pulling Stiles' down so he could better see. His finger traced the pinkish bruise, rising ever so slightly over Stiles' skin, blemishing his creamy complexion.

"It's not a big deal," Stiles said as he let Derek inspect him. "I just got bumped a little bit the last time we ran into Gerard and the kanima."

"A little bit?" Derek asked skeptically. "A little bit enough to bruise."

"Stop worrying about me," Stiles said, turning around and facing Derek, running his hands through the hairs on Derek's chest soothingly. "I'll be fine. Worry about yourself."

"How can I not worry about you?" Derek asked, sitting up. He grabbed Stiles' hand, looking deeply into the amber eyes of his boyfriend. "I can heal. Nothing's going to happen to me…but you…"

"Nothing's going to happen to you?" Stiles scoffed. "You've got a resurrected Peter looking to replace you as Alpha, Gerard and a whole pack of hunters, including their new murderous queen Allison, looking to slice you in half, and you've only got about three werewolves-in-training as a part of your pack," Stiles said. "Like I said, worry about yourself."

"I can't lose you," Derek said seriously. "I don't like you being out there with us every night. You're too precious to me. Are you listening to me?" Stiles rolled his eyes and nodded, that far away look on his face. He'd heard this lecture a million times already.

"Stiles, I'm serious," Derek said, squeezing his hand. "Be careful. If I could, I would never leave your side, but your damn ADD and your catlike curiosity always ensures you end up in trouble. Can you promise me that you'll at least try to be safe?"

"I guess," Stiles said halfheartedly. He fell with a resounding thud onto the bed, his head buried in the blankets. Derek sighed before resting his head on top of his back, fingering the scar worriedly.

"I love you, Stiles," Derek said softly. "I don't want you to get hurt." Stiles linked hands with Derek, clutching them tightly under his chest.

"I love you, too," Stiles said, his voice muffled by the blankets. Derek smirked before slapping Stiles on the ass playfully, rubbing the spot he spanked as he peppered kisses along his naked back.

"Agh!" Stiles cried, twisting the arrow, feeling the tip burrow deeper into his skin.

"Don't move it!" Derek instructed. "Here." He pulled Stiles down so he could break the shaft so that it wouldn't get caught on anything. "Don't try to pull it out. It's barbed. Now listen to me…Stiles! Are you listening?" Stiles face was pale and he felt himself going into shock, but he nodded his head as Derek said, "I want you to run to the vet's office, okay? Do you hear me? Run there and don't come back, no matter what you hear. Tell Dr. Deaton that Gerard has Scott at the school with Jackson."

"Wh – wha – what about Erica and Issac and Boyd?" Stiles asked, stuttering as his mind raced ahead of his tongue. "I can call them…I can…" He didn't know if it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins or the clouds dissipating in the sky, making the moonlight brighter, but he looked around the clearing and caught sight of the three werewolves he'd just mentioned. Isaac was chained to a tree, arrows peppering his limp body; what made the sight all the more sickening were the purple petals of wolfsbane jutting out from his wounds, the arrows having been pierced with them so that when they struck his body the toxins of the flower seeped into his blood. Just beyond the trees he could see Erica's blonde hair shining in the moonlight, her lifeless body lying in the fetal position. And the log he'd jumped earlier, the one he mistook for a fallen tree, was actually Boyd , blood still spilling out from the stab wounds that slashed his body. "Oh my God," Stiles said, gulping in terror. They were all dead. He turned to Derek, who gritted his teeth as he pushed Stiles away.

"Go!" Derek cried, looking worriedly around into the darkness. "Now!"

Stiles clumsily got to his feet, clutching his shoulder as he said, "I'll be right back, okay? I'm not going to be long." He'd barely taken two steps when an arrow whizzed by Derek and struck Stiles' ankle, making him fall over in pain. "Agh!" he cried as tried to hold his foot. Blinded by tears, he tried to pull the arrow out, when another one hit him in the chest. He let out a sickening scream as he felt the arrow pierce his skin. He rocked helplessly on his side, Derek clawing at the ground, pulling himself to Stiles.

"Stiles!" Derek cried, his eyes growing hazy with tears as well. He gasped in pain as he pulled his broken body to Stiles, nearly reaching his foot when someone came crashing out of the dark woods and pulled Stiles far enough away that he couldn't get to him if he wanted to.

"Not so fast," Allison said, standing triumphantly over Stiles. She leaned down next to him, knife at his throat, staring murderously at Derek. "I was wondering when you were going to get here," she said. Stiles groaned, trying to pull his way free from her grip, but his body was slack and unresponsive.

"Let him go!" Derek cried, roaring in anger as the moonlight caught on the blade of Allison's knife, glistening beautifully.

"You're really in no position to negotiate," Allison said, pressing the dagger deeper into Stiles' neck.

"Allis – Allison," Stiles choked out, his vision fading and his fingers slipping on her arm. "What…are…you…doing?" he said, the effort immense on his wounded body.

"Avenging my mother," Allison said, her tears clear even in the darkness. "See, when I first heard Derek was the one who bit her, all I felt was rage. Red, murderous rage. I wanted him dead. But then I thought, what good would that be? He'd be dead," she said, licking her lips as she stared Derek down. "It wouldn't be fair. What would be fair would be to take everything he loves, everything he cares about, out of this world. I would be doing the same thing he did to me when he ripped my aunt and then my mother from me. Killing those three pups was just an appetizer. Killing you," she said, pressing the blade harder onto Stiles' throat, "the one thing he actually cares about, the only thing he probably ever loved in this world, would end him. Now that would be true vengeance."

"Allison," Derek said, trying to reckon with her. "Killing Stiles isn't going to bring them back. I'm sorry, but they're gone. Besides, Stiles…Stiles has nothing to do with this…" Derek said, his voice breaking. "Let him go…he's your friend, remember?"

"He hangs with you, now," Allison spat. "You know how the saying goes: you lie with dogs, you get fleas."

"Let him go," Derek pleaded, "let him go and he can just, walk away from this. No one else has to get hurt."

"He should be the least of your worries," Allison smirked. "Really, you should be begging for your life right now. If you haven't noticed, I've taken out three werewolves from your precious pack all on my own. You shouldn't be that much more difficult."

"Fine," Derek said, gritting his teeth. "Let him go, and you can have me."

"No!" Stiles cried out, kicking up dirt as he tried to push against Allison. "Don't…kill…him."

"Shhh," Allison said soothingly to Stiles, rubbing his shorn head. "Don't worry," she whispered to Stiles, while staring Derek down, "I won't." With that she dragged the blade across Stiles' neck, pushing him aside as the blood gushed from his throat. "At least not before you." Derek roared, shaking the leaves from the trees as he cried out in anger. He watched helplessly as Stiles' bled, his poor little body convulsing as the blood rapidly spurted from the gash on his throat. Derek cried out again, his voice hoarse with grief.

Allison got to her feet, walking over to Derek and standing above the sobbing man. "Do you feel that? That little flutter of hope seeping slowly out of your body, like all the light in your world was just extinguished? That's the way I felt when I learned my mother was dead," she said through teary eyes. "My only regret is that you'll only feel that pain for a few more seconds, at which point I'm going to slice your body in half with my grandfather's sword. Meanwhile, I'll have to live with that feeling for the rest of my life. But don't worry; I find it comforting to know that you feel exactly what I felt, and I hope it follows you into whatever ring of Hell you get cast into when you die." She unsheathed Gerard's sword from the scabbard around her waist, smiling wickedly as she held the hilt tightly between her hands. "Say hello to your family for me," she said as she he sword rose above her head.

Before she could bring it down and end Derek's life, he gripped her leg, digging his nails into her calf and ripping the flesh downward so that it flapped like loose meat. Allison screamed out, dropping the sword as she fell to the ground. She clutched at her leg, crying in agony as Derek popped his broken leg back into place. Getting to his feet, ignoring the burning pain coursing through his veins as the wolfsbane-dipped arrows under his skin continued to seep the poison into his body, he cornered Allison against a tree. Her eyes bright with fear and resilience, she pulled out another dagger from her breast pocket, ready to swipe at Derek should he come any closer. He roared at her, the sound ringing into her teeth. He kicked the dagger out of her hands, moving closer to her, his fangs dripping with saliva as he eyed her murderously. She cowered against the tree, grasping at the ground for her bow, which she left laying by Stiles. Derek studied the anger on her face for a second before he sunk his clawed thumbs into her eyes, twisting them around as she cried out in excruciating pain. Pulling his fingers out from her eye sockets he was glad that he'd made sure the hunters' deadliest bow and arrow handler would never be able to see another target again. A small keening sound fell from her mouth as the shock that she was blinded sank in. The gaping holes left in her face made it impossible for her to cry, so she settled for screaming instead. Derek then walked over to where Gerard's sword lie. Picking it up, grasping the golden hilt in his clawed, furred hands, he drove it through Allison's shoulder, pinning her to the tree. If it were at all possible she screamed out in more pain, blindly feeling for the sword hilt to pull it out, but Derek had stuck it in with such force that she'd be trapped there until Derek decided what to do with her.

With a heavy heart he turned to Stiles. His boy lay motionless on the dirty forest ground, his pink lips parted and his bright, shining eyes looking heavenward. Derek shifted back into human form, the tears falling down his face as he fell to his knees next to Stiles. He cradled him in his lap, closing his eyes so that he looked sleeping, even with the gash across his throat and the shining red blood coating his shirt. He pulled his own leather jacket tighter around the boy, wanting to keep the body warm for as long as possible. He tenderly stroked his hair, letting out a sob as he kissed his forehead and continued to rock him gently in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles," Derek whispered, his lips still pressed to his forehead. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you." He sobbed, inconsolably clutching at Stiles' limp body, wishing by some dark or dead magick that he would come back to life. But Stiles lay still, his body slack in Derek's arms.

"It's best if we end things now," Derek said, sitting on Stiles' bed a few nights ago. He'd snuck in and watched his boyfriend sleep, waiting until Stiles woke up (and he always did) so that he could say what was on his mind. "Things are getting too dangerous out there. I couldn't take it if…"

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Stiles said, yawning tiredly. "I told you before, I can take care of myself."

"It's not just that," Derek said, knowing he'd meet some interference. "You'll be leaving for college in a few months. There's nothing here to make you stay."

"You're here," Stiles said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck, nuzzling up to the back of his head. "You're all I need."

"You say that now, but give it a few months, and – ."

"Would you stop?" Stiles said, pulling Derek back so he was laying down, his head in Stiles' lap. "I'm not leaving. You can't get rid of me, no matter how annoying I am," he said, chuckling. "So whatever plan you have in mind to break up with me in order to keep me safe, drop it. You're stuck with me."

"I really am, aren't I?" Derek asked, burying his face in his hands.

"You really are," Stiles reassured him, pulling his hands away so he could kiss him. "Forever."

"I'm so sorry, Stiles," Derek said one last time, inhaling the rapidly fading scent of Stiles' body. He sat motionless, wanting to remember the feel of Stiles' in his arms, when Allison's painful cries cut through his mourning. He drew his lips from Stiles' forehead, turning toward the moon and howling, drowning out Allison's cries. It was a long, mournful, despairing howl, one of a wolf without a pack and without a mate.

A/N: Do you hate me? You hate me. I hate writing character deaths. I just want everyone to be so happy and peaceful with lots of hugs and sex. But after watching (Spoiler) Allison shoot Boyd and Erica full of arrows in the last episode, I realized no one is safe from her vengeance. And if Derek and Stiles were a couple, of course Stiles wouldn't be safe either. So I came up with this. The title comes from Taylor Swift's song for The Hunger Games soundtrack. It's such a mournful song, isn't it? It fit perfectly with the theme and tone I had in mind for this story.

Thanks for reading, and I'm really sorry if I made you upset or cry or whatever. Just know that this is fanfiction, not canon, and Stiles and the whole Hale pack is alive and kicking, and besides that, they're fictional characters anyway. I chant this to myself all the time while I'm watching this show. They're not real, they're not real, they're not real…