Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stiles was standing behind Derek as he and Chuck are talking to the marines on guard at the entrance to the base. He was admiring the way the uniform pants clung to Derek’s ass and was wondering of Master di Marco and Chuck would notice if they didn’t get Derek’s and his uniforms back.

“Your rooms are on sub-level five.”

The voice of one of the guards snapped him out of his reverie and he jumped to follow Derek and Chuck through the doors into the base. After the doors have closed behind him he spreads a line of the mountain ash across the entrance. It isn’t the Rowan mountain ash that werewolves and other supernaturals would have an issue crossing, it’s Tasmanian Oak. This, Deaton says, normal humans will not be able to cross. Stiles keeps repeating his mantra as he spreads the ash around, ‘imagination is more important than knowledge‘. It worked when he put the circle around the rave building, but it’s not like he has had any other occasions to do this. But Derek believes in him, is counting on him, and Stiles insisted that he gets to help with protecting the pack, so, he will be the spark. When he finishes the line of ash he pushes his hand out searching for the barrier it should have built.

“I don’t think it worked,” Stiles says as he turns to face Derek and Chuck, his hand crossing over the line of ash.

Chuck walks up and tries to push his hand over the line of ash. He can’t, leaning all his weight as if he was pushing against a wall and he cannot cross it.

“I think it worked,” he says smiling as he turns to Stiles.

“Why can I...” Stiles starts to ask.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Derek calmly states as he places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “let’s stick to the plan for now.”

They work their way around the level. Stiles blocks all the doors with the ash, he covers the doorways to the stairwells, and finally he places a circle of ash around the elevator. Well after Chuck has gone inside; it still freaks Stiles out that he can cross the ash that is intended to stop humans crossing, and does stop Chuck.

They head down to the next level.

General Diane Cole is looking over the report on her desk. It contains the details of White’s findings, of the actions he’s taken on sub levels twelve and eleven. The details of exactly what Dr Christine Raines has been up to. And all of it is going to come back on her when the oversight committee finds out; she is the ranking commander on the base, it was her responsibility to know what the personnel under her were doing. The people she reports to are going to make sure that no-one can find out that anything happened here; they can’t afford for the top brass at Fort Meade or at Langley to find out that a banned project was restarted. She can’t afford for this project to fail.

“Options, Mr White,” she sharply voices.

“That depends on what you’re looking for options for,” he calmly replies belying his nervousness, he needs to find a way to get his report out to Langley.

“We need this project to succeed, with or without Raines,” Cole’s voice is strained as she tries to control her frustration, the look in her eye suggesting she has decided on a course of action, “Bring McCall junior to Deaton’s cell.”

Scott and Jackson both wake with a start.

They can both feel it, that taut pull of the pack bond; their Alpha is here.

The door to the room opens as Scott finishes dressing, Raymond White walks in. He looks around the room and his eyes fall on the Carmichael Industries tablet briefly before continuing until his gaze finds Scott, it’s only then that his calculating look changes to a smile.

“The General sent me to let you know that she is waiting for you with Doctor Deaton,” White’s smile never falters while he is speaking to Scott.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Scott replies to him, “please wait outside.”

Raymond White had turned and was about to leave the room when he realised what he was doing. He had intended to get a hold of the tablet and use it to get a message out to his handlers; he’s assuming that the tablet will be like the other Carmichael Industries tablets that he knows of with their own built-in connection to their own communications network.

He’s been wanting the opportunity to make contact with Scott McCall since he arrived and this maybe his only chance. He turns back into the room.

“Did Master di Marco or his sub give you the Carmichael Industries tablet?” White asks. He suddenly finds himself slammed into the nearest wall, Scott’s forearm over his throat and his hands trapped behind his back as his body is held in place as Scott stares into his eyes. Scott has more strength and speed than he expected and White could sear he saw a tinge of red and amber flash across Scott’s irises. It’s then that White realises, Scott is a werewolf just like his submissive Jackson.

“I’m working on the same side as they are,” White hoarsely forces out from the crushing weight on his windpipe.

“Why should I trust you?” Scott asks easing the pressure he’s applying across White’s neck.

“I’m sure you can listen to my heartbeat and tell,” White says a little calmer than before, “isn’t that what you people do?” From the look in Scott’s eyes, and the growl coming from Jackson his sub, White begins to think that may have been the wrong thing to say, he quickly adds, “Listen to my heartbeat, I am working undercover to expose those behind the project I am on the same side as di Marco, I just work for a different agency.”

Scott is sure that White is telling the truth, but he still doesn’t trust him fully. There is something about the man that makes him uneasy, and normally it’s Stiles that gets that ‘there’s just something about them‘ feeling.

“So, if you recognised the tablet why are you only telling me about you being a good guy now?” Scott growls out his question in an attempt to intimidate him. Scott can hear White’s heartbeat increase, and smell the change in his scent.

“Because the place has been locked down, and even when I was out of the base investigating Raines cabin I was surrounded by the NID operatives from the base,” White quickly answers, “I haven’t been able to report back to Langley.”

“Who’s Langley?” Scott asks, confusion written across his face.

“I think he meant Langley, Virginia, Sir,” Jackson says from behind Scott, “The CIA headquarters are based there.”

“Oh,” Scott says, his attention returning from his sub to White, “that’s who you work for?”

“Yes,” White replies, “I’d like to use the tablet to contact Langley and let them know what is going on here, that way they can send in an extraction team.”

“We should head Deaton’s cell,” Scott says seemingly ignoring White’s request before continuing, “Before the General sends someone else to get us. We can look at sending your message after we get back to this room.” Scott doesn’t expect that to happen, with Derek is here the rest of the pack must be close too; and Master di Marco and his extraction team. Not that Scott is telling White any of that.

“I could use the tablet while you’re with the General,” White counters Scott’s assertion, “it would...”

“I’ll need to be here,” Scott cuts White’s argument off before he finishes, “it needs to scan my eye before it will allow a connection to send anything.”

With that they head out of the room, White leading the way as Jackson follows behind Scott.

Chris and Rebeccah had made their way down to sub-level ten.

They had been able to uncover that this was the level that the ‘subjects of interest‘ were held. Luckily Rebeccah had been able to persuade the marine she had recuperated with to explain a lot about the base and how it worked. They had been able to acquire a pass that allowed access to the lowest levels. Not that there was any reason it appeared to go down to levels eleven and twelve as they were currently cleared and each cell incinerated to destroy any viral contaminant.

The control room on level nine only had two marines manning it, Rebeccah managed to easily subdue them. The marines were very co-operative and answered anything that Rebeccah asked. From inside the room Chris and Rebeccah were able to see that this monitored every room on level nine, and that they were able to see what was happening on the levels below it. This room controlled the doors to each cell on the lower levels, it also controlled the level of current the implant in each of the ‘subjects of interest’ generated. Each implant could be controlled independently; the level of electric current that the implant delivered set as desired for that individual.

The lowest two levels were a firestorm, guards in heavy flame resistant suits and hoods walking through the corridors painting the inside of each room in destructive fire.

Level ten was virtually empty, there were marines outside one cell with a General standing impatiently with them waiting for someone. There were pairs of marines taking food into other cells.

Chris and Rebeccah would need to wait until the corridors outside the cells of level ten were clear before making their way down there to the one containing Gerard.

Boyd feels it immediately, the current that had been constant from the implant in the back of his neck just stops. The gasp from the kid lying on him tells him that his implant must have stopped too.

“The tingling stopped,” the kid says, his voice full of surprise and apprehension.

“Mine too,” Boyd replies as he runs a comforting hand down his back, “Something is up, my Alpha is here, and other members of my pack. I can feel them clearly now.”

“Are they here to free us, or are they captured too?”

“I don’t know.”

Derek, Chuck and Stiles are making good progress down the levels until they get to level eight. This is the first level they meet resistance.

Before Stiles has completed the barrier of ash on the first door it opens and technician opens it from the other side.

“What are you doing?” he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

Derek punches him in the face knocking him back into the room. Unfortunately there are four marines in the room who come barrelling out over the incomplete line of ash.

Derek shifts to his beta form. He grabs one of the marines and throws him against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

Chuck rounds on another marine with a flying kick, knocking him unconscious.

Stiles momentarily panics as he throws the ash in his hand along the corridor at the other doors on the side he was working along willing the barrier to form. As the doors open the marines and technicians on the other side find themselves trapped behind a line of ash on the ground.

“I did it!“ Stiles exclaims in jubilation, “Oh. My. God. I really did it!“

Only for some of the doors on the other side of the wide corridor to open and more marines to come running towards them drawing their side-arms just as Derek and Chuck knock the last two out. Stiles, Derek and Chuck run for the elevator. As Chuck dives inside Stiles throws the ash willing the circle to form as he and Derek run in behind Chuck. A bullet whizzes past Derek’s ear into the elevator wall behind just as the door closes and Chuck uses the pass they have to descend to level nine.

“I didn’t block the stairwell with the ash,” Stiles despondently states.

“Don’t worry,” Derek says as an alarm sounds throughout the base, “Our pack is here, and di Marco and his team will be with them.”

The door of every cell on level ten opens at the same time. Both the inner and outer door of the entrance to the cells. Inside they could now here the alarm sounding.

Boyd and the kid edge towards the door.

“Hey kid,” Boyd whispers, “I can’t keep calling you ‘kid‘, what’s your name?”

“Leandro Santos,” he smiles back at Boyd.

As they do Boyd catches the scent in the air.

“Wolfsbane,” he hisses, his brow furrowed at the other scent with it, “And mint?“

“Catmint,” Leandro says, “Or you might know it as catnip.”

They exit into the main corridor to see two mountain lions stalking up the stairs across the other side of the corridor from them.

Beside the elevator in the centre of the corridor a marine is held in the grasp of a naked man who has bitten deep into the marine’s neck and is drinking his blood. He lets the marine fall to the ground, drained.

“First decent meal I’ve had since I got here,” he smirks as he digs his fingers into the back of his neck and pulls the implant out. The wound heals rapidly as he turns his black eyes on Boyd and Leandro.

“A leech,” Leandro hisses.

At the far end of the corridor a hacking cough catches the attention of them all. Boyd can’t contain the hateful growl that rumbles from him at the sight of a naked Gerard Argent as he stands at the door of one of the cells coughing up the black blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

Deaton and Matt emerge from a door on the other side of the elevator.

“I think it would be in all our interests to make out way up the stairwell,” the calm well measured voice of Deaton grasps their attention from Gerard, “if you check the marine’s pockets for his pass we will need it to get through the doors,” he states to the vampire standing over the marine’s body.

As they head up the flight of stairs that the cats didn’t take the sound if fighting and gunfire can be heard from above. Before reaching the main corridor they pass a set of double-doors, looking through the glass panels on the top half of the doors Erica can be seen laid out on a steel table.

“Erica,“ Boyd shouts as he runs into the room, “No, no, no,” he sobs as he finds her body lifeless and in the process of being dissected. Boyd howls his loss and distress, fully shifting as his eyes shift, his claws and fangs extend. Boyd turns to the door, the need for vengeance burning bright in the molten amber of his eyes.

As they force their way into the main corridor area they see Stiles back-flip away from one marine and with a sweeping kick he takes the legs out from under another, stopping him from taking his shot at Derek.

Danny is blocking the attacks of two marines, their weapons lying discarded on the floor. With two swift punches he knocks them out and they fall to the floor.

Isaac is dodging the bullets from shots being taken by a marine near where Boyd is emerging through the doors, Boyd charges to the marine snatching the gun from his grasp with one hand and tossing him across the room with the other.

There are two technicians and marine being mauled by a cougar and two wolves. Through the smashed door of one of the interrogation rooms they see Christine Raines throat is being ripped out by the other cougar.

Deaton tries to signal to Stiles to create another barrier of the ash to hold the marines and technicians on this floor to allow the pack to escape; but Stiles is totally focused on the fighting he is engaged in. He is throwing marines to the ground, high kicking and round kicking them to the floor, blocking their throws and attacks as if he has always done so. Derek is becoming increasingly distracted and worried by Stiles’ actions.

A shot aimed at Derek misses him as he ducks low trying to get to Stiles, the bullet strikes Gerard between the eyes as he kept himself back against the wall near the door they had entered through.

General Cole is lying in a pool of her own blood, felled by two shots to the chest from the 9mm Beretta semi-automatic pistols in Chris Argent’s hands. Her own weapon lying under her body; he was a faster shot than she was.

Boyd sees a marine taking aim at Leandro, he moves putting himself between the kid and the marine, trying to charge towards the marine before he shoots. He doesn’t make it; the wolfsbane laced shot hitting his heart, and the poison quickly working through him.

“NO!” Leandro cries out running to Boyd.

The marine’s next shot finding Leandro and he collapses on top of Boyd’s body.

Master di Marco and the remainder of his team make their final push into the cavernous corridor, each of his team is a werecat of one kind or another and all are in their equivalent to a werewolves beta form. Their teeth and claws elongated, their eyes the myriad blues, ambers and greens of each type of cat that they partly are.

With speed and agility they begin to overrun the covert NID marines of the base.

Rick McCall can see the marine aiming at Scott. He doesn’t think twice as he places himself between Scott and the bullet. As the blood spreads across his shirt, darkening the blue to black, he falls back against his son and looks up into his red-rimmed amber eyes and the light fades from his own. Scott seems lost and frozen in place at the death of the man he hated for the way he treated his mother, and doesn’t notice as the marine prepares to fire again. Stiles rushes at the marine and knocks him unconscious with a punch to the face.

The fight comes to an end as Jackson throws the last NID marine to back against the wall. The marine still does not give up and raises his gun to fire.

“NO,” Matt yells in warning as he leaps between the marine and Jackson.

Chuck knocks the marine out, but he has already pulled the trigger and Matt crumples to the ground. Jackson rushes to Matt’s side, his hands pressing against the wound to try and stem the bleeding. He’s begging Matt to hold on, to stay with him. Telling him over and over that he has already told Scott that he is willing for both of them to wear Scott’s collar; that he will try to put the past behind them, and that Matt just needs to hold on.

“You can’t Jackson,” Matt says, his voice no more than a whisper, “After what I did, what I made you do, it’s too much to expect. No matter how much I want it.”

The blood flow doesn’t stop, it doesn’t slow. As Matt falls silent and his breathing slows, his eyes close over.

During the fight Derek felt the loss of Pack. As he kneels beside Boyd, and the boy fallen over his back that he was trying to save, he feels it more keenly. Derek can’t contain the tears that start to fall as Stiles stands behind him, his hand resting on Derek’s shoulder as he too feels his Mate’s pain.

Scott is by Jackson and Matt’s side, one hand on Jackson’s shoulder the other holding one of Matt’s hands. He remembers the conversation with Isaac in Danny’s hospital room after the Kanima attack at the club, recalls how Isaac had healed Danny’s wounds that had been inflicted by Derek.

“Isaac,” Scott shouts, “Can you do for Matt what you did for Danny?”

Isaac looks fearfully at Scott. He’d hoped that Scott had forgotten the incident, that he could do more than take someone’s pain away.

“I can try,” Isaac replies seeing the earnest look in Scott’s eyes and ignoring the confusion on everyone else’s, “His injury is more than I have tried to heal before.”

“Please,” Scott pleads, “just try.”

Isaac’s hands replace Jackson’s over the wound. Matt’s breath so shallow and the loss of blood so great. Isaac pushes all his power down through his hands and the wound closes over, but every werewolf hears the beat of Matt’s heart stop.

Scott pulls Jackson into his arms, comforting his Mate.

The roar emitted from Matt’s shifted body pulls the attention back to where he now sits. His eyes a shining golden amber split with the vertical pupil. His face and back covered with short orange and black stripped fur, and the coarse white fur down his chest and belly.

Lydia Martin screamed.

She ignored the fact that she had been able to cross the line of ash that Allison couldn’t. Everyone was taking too long. She knew the fighting was over. On every level of the base she could see that Master di Marco’s men were rounding the people up and locking them in irons as she worked her way down the flights of stairs.

Then she saw Derek kneeling, and crying, and she screamed.

The were-creatures covered their ears in pain, the humans squirmed under the shrillness of the noise. The werecats carrying the body-bag lost their grip and Erica’s body fell on the floor. Lydia’s scream increased in volume.

She is silent now. She is standing under the trees. This is the second time she has worn the black dress, shoes, glove and hat. They look good against her pale skin and the red of her hair. She places the single white Calla Lily in front of the gravestone.

“Goodbye Boyd.”

She had placed a similar one beside Erica’s grave the day before.

Allison carded her fingers through her kneeling submissive’s hair. He was still trying to come to terms with the revelation that his half-sister was not human, that she is a succubus, or more accurately a half-succubus.

The werewolf leaned into her touch, resting his head in her lap.

“I guess it’s why she was able to accept me so easily,” he quietly voices.

“Probably, being who and what she is she would know being non-human doesn’t make you evil.” Allison replies, “My dad says that she only used her abilities to help protect him and the others that the facility had kidnapped.” She didn’t add that her father still didn’t trust her, or Jed and his pack. Not fully, not yet, but Allison was confident it was only a matter of time.

“Hmm,” is his noncommittal reply.

Allison has her own thoughts to work through. Back at the base her best friend had walked over a line of ash that a normal human shouldn’t have been able to cross. No-one has been able to tell Lydia what she is yet, she knows and they know that she isnt human. They’ve known that since she survived Peter’s bite, but none of them can tell her what kind of nonhuman she is.

As the rope slides over his skin, following the caress of John’s hand as he binds it tightly, Chris can’t hold the moan that slips from between his lips. He needs this. He needs the grounding and feeling of belonging and safety that he gets from submitting to the Dom.

Chris’s arms are bound behind his back. The rope rough and tight around his wrists, then drawn up along his front. The caress of it wrapped around his arms and upper chest. The rope cutting in under his pectoral muscles, almost biting but not quite, never too tight.

John rings Chris’s hard cock with another length of rope, wrapping it around his sack pushing his balls tightly down. The rope pushing his cock and balls out obscenely from his body. Hard and angry red as his need drips from the tip.

“Kneel,” John commands. Chris falls to his knees, spit falling from his mouth held open by the O-ring gag. John runs his fingers across Chris’s lips, through the saliva falling from his mouth. Two fingers push in through the ring of metal and over Chris’s tongue.

“Don’t worry,” John says looking down at him, “I’m going to use your hot wet mouth.”

And he does.

Melissa had a lot to think about.

Peter Hale had formally asked her to consider submitting to him. And she really wasn’t sure she was ready. Before Rick showed up she is sure that she wouldn’t have had to think twice, she would have said yes in an instant.

Now, now she remembers how he was, how he made her feel and the fear he instilled in her. She trusted Peter, Scott had trusted him enough to ask him to check that she was okay, but she thought she could trust Rick, she had trusted Rick enough to accept his collar, and then... well, even Peter has now had a little experience of what she endured.

What it all comes down to is that she doesn’t trust her own judgement, she doesn’t know if she can allow herself to trust Peter enough to submit to him. No matter how appealing the thought of submitting to him is.

Danny is going to have to talk to Derek.

Desperately needs to talk to Derek as soon as he and Stiles are back from LA.

It’s the sixth time in the last four weeks that he has had one of those dreams, and he is so loosing focus because of them that it’s affecting his ability to satisfy Isaac. He couldn’t stop the growl he aimed at Isaac when his sub asked ‘if it would help if he spanked him or something‘.

The dreams haven’t all been the same. The only common element now is that mostly it is both him and Isaac submitting to Derek. In some of them it is Derek and Stiles they are submitting to, Isaac suggested that could be because their wolves would recognise Stiles as their Alpha’s Mate. Which made sense to Danny.

But the thought of submitting to his former submissive only fuelled his humiliation.

The last dream had Isaac lying underneath Danny in a sixty-nine, while they sucked on each other’s hard shafts Derek was plunging deep into him, Danny could feel the burn with each thrust and pull of Derek’s thick cock, and Stiles was jack-hammering in and out of Isaac.

Danny woke with a shout as he came over his abs, sticking the sheet to him.

He definitely needs to talk to Derek.

“If you don’t calm down I’m going to have to start calling you Tigger,” Jackson teases him.

Matt whirls round and scowls at him.

“That’s not funny!” Matt all but pouts, “It’s been a month, and I don’t smell right anymore. There is none of our Doms scent, or yours, on me anymore. I smell more like Master di Marco.”

“Well you did become a pussy cat, and he was the only one that our Dom would let train you how to control your...” Jackson is cut-off before he can finish.

“Don’t you dare Jackson!” Matt warns him.

“Fearsome pussy powers, “ Jackson says with a smirk, at Matt’s deepening scowl adding, “Well... what else would you call your cat abilities and transformations,” Jackson laughs. One pussy comment was probably more than enough. For now.

They are both naked in Scott’s bedroom. Scott is just back from Deaton’s clinic and is in the shower. Jackson takes one of Matt’s hands and pulls him over to the bed; they were naked together while they were held in that place, he can do this.

He pulls Matt onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around him in an embrace. He still has issues about this, but his worries aren’t as intense. Jackson has had their Dom to himself for the past month. A month of being used by Scott and shown just how much he loves and wants him, being fucked and knotted by Scott and then fucking and knotting Scott. The bite of the clamps in his nipples and the feel of the flogger over his back. Jackson has loved every pleasurably painful minute of it.

As he noses at Matt’s neck, breathing in deeply, the low displeased grumbling growl Jackson makes surprises him.

“You do smell wrong,” Jackson blurts out, “I want to lick that scent off you, and to cover you in Scott’s and mine.”

“Well then you can start by licking out his asshole,” the voice of Jackson’s Mate, of their Dom, startles both of them. Scott is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, naked and hard.

“You are gonna fuck Matt, and while you are fucking him I am gonna fuck you,” Scott grins at them, “then when you are both filled with a load of come I am gonna put these plugs in you. We’ll get something to eat, maybe go out to that new pizza place, then come back here and open up the toy box.”

The deep blush and grins of both his subs lets Scott know they both like the idea.

“Four weeks Derek, Sir,” Stiles complains as Derek, turning off the radio, parks the Toyota in the basement car-park of the apartment building they miss the news report of another attack by big cats in southern California, “We were in LA for four weeks while Master di Marco and Chuck had every test they could think of run on me. No ‘Morgan’ effect. And seriously what was wrong with Morgan, he seemed like a really nice guy to me. But that’s off-topic, No ‘Morgan’ Effect. I know kung-fu dude.”

“Shut-up, and don’t call me dude,” Derek snaps at him.

Stiles shuts up and drops his head down. Derek sighs, knowing he has upset his Mate. He looks over at him and cupping his hand under Stiles’ chin brings his head up to look at him.

“Now that we know that it’s safe for you to use that information planted in your head, how about we practice together, see how you defend yourself against a werewolf, hmm?” Derek asks.

“Seriously?” Stiles asks him, at Derek’s nod Stiles grin splits across his face, “awesome Sir.”

They make their way up to the loft and the joking and laughing between them stops when they reach the door. There is a mark painted across the door, a swastika-like spiral pattern.

“You have a problem with urban alchemists in this neighbourhood, Derek?” Stiles asks laughing. His laugh stops when he notices Derek’s deep frown, and feels the worry leaking through their bond.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, now full of worry himself.

“It’s the symbol for the Alpha Pack,” Derek growls.

“A literal pack of Alpha Werewolves?” Stiles asks, “That can’t be good.”