Warning. Angsty stuff ahead. Turn back now if you can't handle the tears.
Ethan is already dead, blood dripping from his mouth and eyes glazed over, body bisected through the middle from Scott having severed his body in half. Aiden is head to head with Scott, roaring in rage and slashing a frenzy of blows towards the True Alpha in an act of vengeance for his brother's death. Deucalion is fighting with Derek, both Alphas wolfed out and attempting to overpower each other. Kali and Isaac are also brawling, Kali kicking at the Beta with sharp clawed toenails while Isaac holds his own by dodging, ducking and landing his own attacks in when he can get a chance.
Stiles, in the meantime, is with Isaac fending off Kali. The pack had told him to stay behind, to be safe. But as usual, he doesn't want to be left out from the battle just because he's human. He wants revenge on the Alphas just as much as everyone else does. With a steel baseball bat wielded in his hand, he swings at Kali with every chance he gets, helping make sure Isaac has a chance to intervene with his own blows when the Alpha is distracted.
"Isaac, duck!" he yells when Kali dodges one of the Beta's attacks, whipping around to slice her claws at him. Isaac hears Stiles' warning and ducks down just in time so Kali's hit misses, before assaulting her with a kick to the stomach that knocks the air out of her and has her lashing out with a growl.
"Cute." Kali sneers at Stiles. "But your little buddying teamwork isn't going to save you from me ripping your throat out."
"Hey! Find your own saying, lady. That's our Alpha's," Stiles snaps, swinging his bat at Kali's skull.
Kali, being the freaky gymnast werewolf that she is, jumps into the air and up over Stiles' head, landing right behind him. Stiles doesn't expect it, and for that he is far too slow to turn around in time.
Isaac yells out his name in panic but Kali just hurls him backwards, his body barreling through the air before flying into a tree, slumping down unconscious from the hard blow to his.
Stiles gulps, eyes wide and bat held out in front of him for protection. Kali just laughs sardonically, right before she lunges towards him, too fast for Stiles to react, and tackles him to the ground—the force of the blow knocks the bat out of his hand, has it flying out of his grasp and landing on the ground a good few metres away.
"Look who's the little piggy now," Kali jeers, claws tracing and pressing outlines against the skin of his throat, pushing down extra hard on his windpipe. Stiles lets out a strangled cough and she smirks darkly, pushing down harder causing him to choke from the pressure and lack of air. "What are you going to do now, Stiles? When the big, bad wolf's got you."
"Get. The fuck. Off. Me," he manages to croak, spitting in the Alpha's face. Kali snarls, eyes flashing like hot coals as she rears back in anger. Stiles takes that ashis chance, kicking her in the stomach, forcing her away from him as he scrambles to his hands and knees in an attempt to crawl away from her.
He manages to get a few centimetres away before there's a hand gripping his leg tightly, yanking him back. He yelps, digging his fingernails into the earth to keep himself from being pulled, but the hand is too strong and it tugs him back harshly—his body is dragged across the ground again, turned around roughly and pushed onto his back. A flash of red gleaming eyes and sharp white fangs are the only two things he sees before something rips into him, searing pain engulfing his chest in white, hot sparks of agony. He squeezes his eyes shut and chokes on a sob, everything in his body burning. It feels like he's on fire.
Kali's face looms into view suddenly—her mouth is smothered in a red substance and her fangs drip with the same dark liquid. Her bright molten eyes only seem to add to the gruesome ruby substance that is running down her lips in wet drops. "Let's just hope your weak, little human body can take it," she says, grinning evilly.
That is when Stiles feels his heart stammer.
Let's just hope your weak little human body can take it repeats in his mind.
Above all the pain rushing through his veins, he looks more closely to the red substance that is leaking off of Kali's fangs.
"No," he whispers softly, eyes wide in terror, moving a hand to his side. Just like he suspects, he feels the fleshly wound of a bite and the wet feeling of blood under his fingertips. "N-No."
"Oh, yes," Kali coos maliciously, stroking a hand across his cheek. He turns his head away from her touch, whimpering. "Soon, you'll either become one of us. A werewolf. Or," she runs her finger along his bottom lip, "your immune system will fight the bite, all your organs will fail, your body will shut down, and you'll die." She sneers. "And trust me… that's a pretty long, very slow, painful process."
Stiles keeps his eyes closed, clenched shut.
Suddenly, Kali's finger on his lips is gone and he hears a loud roar. The sound causes him to open his eyes. His eyesight is met with Isaac, now fully conscious, ripping the other Alpha's stomach open ferociously. Kali lets out a gargled scream and dark red, almost black blood, pours out from her mouth right before she collapses to the ground, guts spilling out onto the brown earth. Wow. Uh… okay. That is gross.
Isaac comes over to him and Stiles quickly lays a hand over the bite so Isaac won't see it, standing up and swaying a little, hissing when the wound on his side flares a hot spike of pain through his chest which ricochets throughout his whole body.
"Hey, Stiles, you okay?" the Beta questions worriedly, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
Stiles nods through the pain. "I'm fine. Kali just got a nice good ol' claw in, that's all," he jokes, not wanting to worry the young werewolf.
Isaac chuckles. "Oh, all right. But, are you okay though?" he asks, a little more seriously.
Stiles laughs, biting his lip hard as to not cry out from the pain it causes to even do that. "Yeah, Isaac, I'll be good. I'll just have to clean it up and bandage it when I get home."
Isaac eyes him cautiously for a bit, but eventually nods.
And then he's off, running towards Scott to help him with Aiden, who is on the ground and being pummeled by Scott. Stiles watches as Isaac helps Scott easily defeat the Alpha, both of them ripping into Aiden and tearing him to pieces, limbs flying everywhere. Euch. It's pretty gory. Whelp, at least the twin is dead, right?
There's suddenly a loud crack and Stiles turns around to see where Derek and Deucalion are fighting head to head. Derek has just broken the other Alpha's cane stick in two, Deucalion roaring in fury, snarling in Derek's face as their Alpha snarls right back and throws the snapped-in-half cane away.
Stiles watches as Derek wraps a hand around the Alpha's throat, but he knows that Deucalion won't go down too easy. He's right when he sees Deucalion take a swipe at Derek's chest, scoring a hit and making the other Alpha let go of his throat with a growl. Derek stumbles back and Deucalion tries to make another hit, but this time Derek is ready, jumps out of the way, and when Deucalion has his back turned, tackles the older Alpha down to the ground.
"Give up, Deucalion," he hears Derek growl. "You've already lost."
Deucalion smiles— it's a maniac smile. "Oh, I'm not too sure that's true," he purrs.
Derek growls. "What are you talking about?"
Deucalion turns his head and Stiles catches the eyes of the blind Alpha. Even through the hazy, grey murky depths he can see the amusement hidden in those eyes. Deucalion's lips twitch up even more, into a grin that makes Stiles shudder, before he turns back to Derek. "It seems that one of your own pack has had some… let's say, ill misfortune," he muses.
Stiles presses his fingernails into his palm to keep from crying out in anger and pain and doing something about the Alpha that is trying to turn the situation into some sort of joke. A situation where he might be dying and no one knows, and the Alpha is playing that card like it's in a hand of winning cards in a game of Poker.
Stiles sees Derek's eyes blaze a deep, holy-fire red.
He knows what's coming.
Before Deucalion can utter another word, Derek's hand is going straight through the Alpha's chest before ripping out again, a bloody, still beating heart held in his hand. He squeezes it tightly, the heart bursting apart in his hand, blood oozing out of it and dripping through the cracks of his fingers in a sickly trickle of rosemary.
Deucalion lays dead, blind eyes as un-seeing as they've ever been, chest cavity ripped open where Stiles can see ribs and other internal parts sticking out. God, it looks like a scene out of My Bloody Valentine 3D.
Scott walks up to Derek, eyebrows raised in adherence. "Derek, you… you did it," he says, astounded beyond belief.
Derek merely grunts, dropping the un-beating heart to the ground at his feet before stepping on it, mushing it apart into the ground with his boot.
Isaac then comes up, confusion in his eyes. "Derek, what do you think Deucalion meant when he said that?" he asks.
Derek shrugs. "I don't know. Probably trying to throw me off guard. Lying to me to try and create a distraction."
Scott nods his agreement. "Yeah, you're probably right."
Isaac still looked worried, though. "But Derek, are… are you sure he was lying? What if-"
"What if Allison's hurt!?" Scott is the one to burst out, eyes wide in panic. Stiles, even in pain, has to roll his eyes.
"She's not part of the pack, Scott," Derek snaps.
"But… but she's part of mine! And… and I'm an Alpha too. What if he… what if he wasn't talking to you? What if he was talking to me and Allison's out there somewhere dying because of me and we don't even know!"
Stiles can practically feel the tension brooding in Derek's shoulders as the Alpha growls. "Scott, calm down. Allison is fine. She's with her father. At home. Safe. You have nothing to worry about."
But that doesn't deter Scott at all.
"I… I have to be sure," he says, voice high. He turns to Stiles. "Stiles, can I borrow your Jeep? Please? Man, I gotta go check on Allison. I have to see if she's okay!"
Stiles grits his teeth as a shock wave of pain rocks through him. He managed to nod. "Yeah, Scott. Go right ahead, buddy. Bring her back by my place later when you know Allison's okay." If there even is any later for me, Stiles thinks as he chucks Scott the keys from his pocket.
Scott nods, catching them. "Thanks, Stiles! I cannot thank you enough for this!" He runs out through the trees, over to where Stiles has parked his Jeep.
"Derek, can I—"
"Yes. Go with him. Call me if anything's wrong," Derek reprimands in his Alpha voice. Isaac nods, before running to catch up with Scott.
When Stiles can hear the sound of his Jeep driving away in a loud rev of engine fuel, he turns to Derek. "Just you and me now big guy, huh?" He grins. Through the middle of it though, it scrunches up into a grimace.
Derek must notice, because the Alpha frowns. "Stiles?" he says, confused.
Stiles shakes his head. "Derek, don't. Don't, just—don't okay? I'm fine," he breathes, though hisses and keels over, hands on his knees, when the white hot pain sprouts again, this time even stronger.
Derek takes a step towards him. "Stiles," he says again, this time more cautiously.
"I said I'm fine." He straightens up, breathing harshly with his hand held to his side, where it has been the entire time yet no one had seemed to notice.
Derek's eyes travel down, widening when they see the hand he is holding to his side. "Stiles, what happened?" he growls.
"It's nothing, Derek. M'fine," he snaps turning around in a quick spin to leave. Fuck. Not a good idea.
Before he knows it, he's collapsed, laying on the ground, skull hammering and pain burning up his insides in a white, hot heat. Derek is covering the last few steps between them in a blur before he realizes it, and he sees the Alpha crouch down to his level. He feels a hand lift up his shirt, fingertips tracing over the bite mark gently, then a rough, shaken voice completely unlike Derek filling the silence.
"Stiles, that's… that's not fine."
Stiles croaks out a laugh, groaning when it results in more searing pain. "Y-Yeah, guess so," he murmurs weakly. He looks up to see Derek actually with wide, panicked eyes. "Wow, seems there's a first time for everything," he chuckles.
"Stiles, stop joking around. This—this is serious," Derek says, and Stiles snaps out of it when he suddenly remembers back to when Peter had told him and Cora about the story of how Derek's girlfriend Paige had died from an Alpha's bite not taking. How she'd died in his arms, him having to kill her to save her from the fate of a long, slow and torturous death.
A death that he's going to be soon experiencing.
"M'sorry," he says softly, looking up at Derek with a small smile. "I know how hard this is for… for you, Derek."
Derek doesn't say anything, just whimpers. Fucking whimpers.
"Hey, sourwolf, do—"
He doesn't get to finish the sentence because next thing he knows, he's puking up tar-like black bile. It doesn't stop. He hacks up more and more, struggling to breathe as the sludgy liquid filled up in his lungs. His lungs. His lungs are filling up with black gunk and he can't breathe. Fuck. Shit. Fucking—God, he was going to die.
He feels arms enclose around him, wrapping him up and pulling him into a warm, hard muscled chest. The hard, brick wall of muscle is shaking though, and it takes Stiles only a few seconds to realize that Derek is crying.
"D-Der, c'mon, d-don't cr—"
And, yep, another lot of black sludge spews out. His lungs are burning with the force of trying to expel all of that which is blocking them, and he's choking and gasping for breath, for air that just won't come.
Derek is full on trembling now, and even throughout all of the red, hot consuming pain that racks through his body, he can hear the loud, definite sobs through gasping breaths that one Alpha wolf has never made before.
"S-S-Stiles, please—don't—don't l-leave me. Please—p-please—don't l-l-leave me—please."
Stiles feels tears flood his own eyes, but isn't sure whether they're from the pain of dying or from hearing the Alpha break down into such a horrible mess. Maybe a bit of both, he thinks as a choked, whimpered sob of agony leaves his lips.
The arms around him squeeze tighter and Stiles is sure he'd be suffocating from the grip if he wasn't actually literally suffocating already from the black tar substance that is like slick oil in his throat and searing flames in his lungs.
This goes on for what eventually feels like hours, but is probably only mere minutes. Derek's grip is bone crushing and Stiles can feel the Alpha's wet tears falling into his hair, accompanied by Derek's little, tiny shattered sobs as he writhes helplessly in the werewolf's arms, crying out at every spark of pain that shoots through him like a flaming arrow.
"D-Der—ahh—p-please—ah—ahh—k-kill me," he gasps. He knows, he knows he shouldn't ask Derek to do this, after all that had happened with Paige when he was younger.
He thought he could handle this but… but he can't, can't fucking take it anymore. The pain of this is pure torture, and it feels like the bite's toxins are actually burning holes throughout him, incinerating his insides in scorching waves of heat that are never ending and never fucking slowing down, but just getting worse and worse.
He hears the completely broken, fierce rattled sob above him, along with the quivering form of Alpha werewolf holding him.
"N-No—can't—won't—won't do it. S-Stiles—w-w-won't—don't—don't make me do it."
"You—ahh—have—to," he cries, choking on another tortured whimper of agony. "P-Please—ah—p-please—D-Derek."
A loud, high whine, nearly a howl, tears itself free from Derek's throat, and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut as he knows what this means.
Derek is going to do it.
"D-Don't—ah—worry—Derek. T'will—ahh—be quick." He grips onto Derek's leather jacket, squeezing his eyes shut tighter when pain that feels like a tornado of fire sweeps through him. "J-Just—ahh—m-my—neck—ah—rip."
It's irony like this that makes Stiles think of his life as a rom-com.
He feels Derek's nose press into the space between his jaw and hairline, sniffing like the Alpha needs to smell him, for the last time, before everything ends.
Teeth, he thinks, as he feels the first light scrape against the skin of his neck. Then, Fangs, when the teeth grow sharper, and he feels a small prick.
"Do—ah—do it—Der. P-Promise—ah—quick—it'll—ahh—be—quick," he says softly, managing to whisper raggedly through the pain.
He hears a whimper, much like a small puppy makes when it's left at home alone while you leave the house, muffle against the skin of his neck, right before the fangs, now fully lengthened, bite down hard. Then rip.
He gasps, high and choked, a gargle trapped in his throat as he feels real human blood, not toxic black blood, rise up in his throat, spilling out from his parted lips. He feels himself bleed out, the gaping wound in his neck seeping out his life essence quickly, so quickly he can already feel the blood sliding down his neck, down down down underneath the neck line of his shirt, running down further along the quivering muscles of his abdomen.
The last thing Stiles hears before his heart gives out, the final stuttered beat thumping out weakly, eyes sliding shut and body falling limp, is Derek's soul shattering howl—and a second later, a barely coherent voice that garbles weakly through fangs, whining.
S-Stiles, I'm so-sorry.
If he could, Stiles would have said he was sorry too.