Hey guys. First let me thank my reviewers: Kieron77, flthyltlscrt, random-nasha, and Jerry1492. I'd give you all hugs, but there is a computer and several thousands of miles between us, so how's about another 'cyber hug'.
Second, there is only one more chapter left in this story, but I did start another one... which will be up when I finish this one and get a little further in it. You know, unless you don't want me to write another Sterek story.
So, thanks for reading, I do not own what is not mine, and leave me a comment if you can
I'm a chatty guy by nature. My father told me that, when I was younger, I used to have conversations with everyone, specifically the old people at the park. I generally did most of the talking, but you get what I mean. I use words to get my point across, whether it's needed or not. I am a ball of anxiety, sarcasm, and wit. And the more nervous I get, the more I talk, so getting my hair grabbed by a werewolf (I should have stuck with the buzz cut) and dragged across the room only unleashed the buildup of words lodged in my throat.
"Hey, watch the 'do. Do you know how long it took me to get it like this," I complained sarcastically, listening as Lydia struggled and Peter said, "Please watch the shirt. It's new." Yes, it is a little scary how much Peter and I have in common, but we are not ever going to talk about that little tid-bit.
"Shut up," the evil, werewolf/hunter growled, shaking me, sending pain up my side and through my arm. I wasn't sure who he was talking to, I was more preoccupied with his glowing eyes, so I did as I was asked. It didn't last long, just long enough for us to get thrown into a small, cramped room.
As the door closed, I stood up and said, "What? No mints on the pillows? What kind of establishment is this?" I turned to Peter and said, "Great job on fighting them, Petey. Really awe-inspiring."
"What?" he replied shrugging. "The hunter woman had a gun."
"You can heal!"
"Bullets still hurt," Peter muttered, crossing his arms, acting as if I had offended him. He's such a frigging drama queen.
I scoffed, shaking my head, turning to Lydia. "Is there a way…?"
"Stiles," I heard a groggy yet familiar voice whisper, cutting me off. "Stiles?" I turned, my eyes settling on Derek. He was chained to a wall, unfocused, green eyes locked on my face, his breathing labored. I could see a multitude of cuts and bruises across his face, blood soaked through his gray Henley and his jeans, and, my stomach somersaulted, he had a piece of glass sticking out of his side.
I was across the room in a second, kneeling down next to him, resting my hand against the side of his neck, feeling his thready pulse beat against my palm, trying not to notice his clammy skin. "Hey," I said softly, resting my forehead against his, "didn't we have some unfinished business?"
"Y-you shouldn't…" he coughed, wincing as the movement pulled on his injury. "You…"
"Of course I shouldn't be here," I said quietly, closing my eyes, "but I am here so I can get your little werewolf ass out of here."
"'m taller than you," Derek murmured and I could feel his breath on my face.
"By barely two inches," I protested and he chuckled once, coughing again.
"Did they give you more of that drug?" I asked curiously, opening my eyes. He nodded against my forehead and I sighed. "And I thought I was a difficult captive." I tried to ignore the worry building up in my stomach, but I knew it was a losing battle. He had a piece of glass sticking out of his side, a piece of glass that could be doing God knew what to him, and he couldn't heal it even if we pulled it out. I really, really wanted this hunter/werewolf dead.
"As touching as this reunion is," Peter drawled from across the room, "we need to come up with a plan to get out of here. I, for one, don't feel like dying… again."
"Well, maybe if you'd have fought the hunter instead of bitching about your shirt," I retorted glancing back at him. He gave me an amused look, and I scoffed looking back at Derek.
"Lydia, can you get these chains off him?" I asked pushing myself to my feet, taking my hand away from Derek's neck. I thought I heard him whimper, but that was impossible. Derek just didn't do things like that; at least not as long as I've known him.
"I can try," she said kneeling next to him. As she worked on the chains, I reluctantly crossed the room to stand next to Peter.
"Stiles," he greeted me with a small smile.
"Can you get the door open?" I asked curiously.
"I could have, had his lovely sidekick not lain mountain ash down." I nodded, staring at the door, knowing I couldn't keep relying on Lydia and her magical talents. She only had so much power, and I knew we couldn't waste it on the door. Not when we might need it later. Of course, I was perfectly capable of doing magic.
If what Deaton told me was true, everybody had the potential to do magic, though some, like Lydia, had an aptitude for it; while others, like me, had to work our asses off to make it work. That was one reason why I kept blowing Deaton's offers off; I already had too much work to do, you know, being research guy, trying to keep the werewolves alive, trying to keep my sanity intact and, oh yeah, trying to keep my dad safe (my heart stuttered in my chest at the thought of my father. God I hoped he was okay). But maybe, one, tiny spell, wouldn't hurt.
Peter flashed me a knowing smile, but I ignored him as I returned to Lydia's side, just as the manacles around Derek's wrists sprang open. I kneeled down next to Lydia and whispered, "Do you know any spells that can get the door open?"
"Yeah, but I don't know how much power I have left," she answered honestly and I could see sweat on her forehead. "I used a lot back at Deaton's, plus the tracking spell, and Derek's chains…"
"You won't be doing the spell," I said softly, letting my eyes settle on Derek. He was trembling, something I hadn't noticed before, and I removed my hoodie with some difficulty, draping it around his shoulders.
"You mean you'll do the spell?" Lydia asked slowly, watching me.
"Yeah," I answered feeling my arm get grabbed.
"A-are you…?" Derek started, gently holding my casted arm, studying it closely, or, trying to, since he looked like he was having trouble focusing.
"I'm fine," I answered Derek, giving him a small smile, running my fingers through his hair. "I won't heal as quickly as you, but I'll be fine. And don't you even think about attempting to take my pain," I added, pointing at him. "You're already in enough pain." He gave me surprised look and I gave him a small smile. "I know you too well, Sourwolf."
I turned back to Lydia and said, "So, that spell?"
"You need to concentrate," Lydia stated exasperated.
"I am," I snarled back.
"Well, don't strain yourself," Peter drawled in amusement, "we wouldn't want to draw them in here with the smoke pouring from your ears."
"Shut up, Peter," Lydia and I said together.
"Just thought I'd point it out," he stated raising his hands, "there's no need to bite my head off."
I tried the spell again, but I just couldn't trigger the mountain ash outside the door, and I was getting increasingly frustrated. I just couldn't seem to work the spell, worries and thoughts buzzing around my head, making me incapable of clearing it. What happened if I managed to open the door only to have Lydia and Derek get killed (and, I guess, Peter, too)? What happened if we got out of here, killed the hunter/werewolf, only for me to return home and find out my dad or one of the pack had been killed? What happened if I got killed? What happened if we were all killed? What…?
I felt someone grab my hand and heard Derek whisper, "You're thinking too loud." His hand around mine gave me something to focus on, something I really needed, and I turned back to the door.
Raising my other hand, focusing on the pressure wrapped around my fingers, I muttered the spell again. Warm tingles rolled through me, my vision went white for a moment, and my hand got very hot before rapidly cooling off. I heard a loud bang, a shrill 'what the hell,' and Peter begrudgingly admit, "Well, now that's impressive."
My vision returned slowly, the hand wrapped around mine slowly bringing me back, and I grinned at the open door. I did it! I actually did it! That is so fricking cool.
"Celebrate later," Lydia said getting my attention, and I nodded, pushing myself to my feet, letting Derek's hand go. I watched as Peter shifted, heading outside, hopefully to take out the werewolf or the hunter.
"At least he's making himself useful," I commented drily as Lydia and I crouched down to get Derek off the floor. He growled in pain when Lydia grabbed the arm on his injured side, and I heard her whisper an apology.
Suddenly we heard a crash, a familiar yelp, and a growl. "Go help Peter," I said with a frustrated sigh, nodding towards the door. "I've got Derek. Go!"
"But your arm…"
"I'll be fine. Go." Lydia looked torn, but she finally nodded and pushed herself to her feet, rushing out of the room.
"Okay," I said softly, crouching down next to Derek, "we're going to do this nice and slow." I wrapped my uninjured hand around his bicep, trying to get a good grip. "Whenever you're ready, we'll stand together, okay?"
"J-just leave me," he murmured, his eyes slipping closed.
"I'm not gonna do that," I replied sharply, lightly shaking him. He winced, but his eyes opened. "I am not leaving you. You're going to get your ass up, we're going to defeat these assholes, and then Deaton is going to patch you up. You're going to be fine."
"You're going to be fine because… because I love you, too, and I won't let you die," I snapped and he looked at me in surprise. "My heart beat gave me away, didn't it? You know I'm not lying. So, help me get you up."
He nodded and together we got him to his feet. He barely held a cry of pain at bay, my stomach jolting, and he swayed back and forth, leaning into my left side. I held him up as best as I could, helping him walk towards the door.
We stopped in the doorway, very much aware of several more hunters and several more werewolves. "Hey, look Der, the cavalry is here," I commented just as a spray of bullets flew towards us. Derek pushed me out of the way, both of us hitting the ground.
I heard a gasp of pain, which could have easily been me because holy crap the impact hurt my side, and felt my shirt get grabbed. I was hauled to my feet, my eyes coming face to face with the yellow eyes of the hunter/werewolf.
"I had a plan," he growled shoving me into a wall, sending more pain through my side. "Kill your Alpha boyfriend, become an Alpha myself, and slaughter what remained of his pack." He shoved me into the wall again. "I debated grabbing you, but then thought what would be the point?" he shoved me a third time, knocking the breath from my lungs. "But, but now I heard that little declaration, after the 'oh so touching' one in the mutt's car, and I figured…" he shrugged, "…why not kill his mate before I kill him."
Mate? What? "W-wait… maybe you should think…" I heard a growl, a deep, thunderous growl, from right behind the hunter/werewolf. He let me go, and I slid to the floor, watching as he turned around, his eyes falling on Derek.
Or, I think it was Derek. I don't remember him being able to turn into a full wolf. The wolf growled, his eyes flashing red, and dived at the werewolf/hunter, knocking him to the ground. I scrambled away from the fight, using my uninjured arm, wincing as the movement pulled on my side.
I watched as (okay I'm just gonna call it Derwolf) the Derwolf attacked the hunter/werewolf. They rolled around on the ground, both ripping into one another. Twice, the hunter/werewolf kicked the Derwolf in the side, causing him to yelp in pain. The fight ended brutal and bloody, with the hunter/werewolf dead on the floor.
It was quiet for a moment, my wide eyes locked on the dark wolf. I swallowed, trying to find my voice, and softly said, "Derek." The Derwolf's head snapped up, looking me right in the eyes, and he slowly moved towards me.
"D…D…" I back away from him, my back pressing into the wall. Human Derek didn't scare me, partially changed Derek didn't scare me, but this Derek, this Derwolf, did because I didn't know what he was capable of. Peter had been different, Peter had had control, had shifted beforehand, Derek hadn't. This was his first shift, anything could happen.
"D-Derek," I said softly, lifting a shaking hand, letting it rest on his face. "Derek, it's…"
"Stiles," he gasped and slowly started to shift again. Back into a human, back into my Derek. "Stiles," he said again, his voice breathy, and then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed on the floor.