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„Because you helped me I’ll make you an offer. I’ll give you the bite,” Peter said nonchalant as he looked at Stiles.
“The bite?” Stiles asked swallowing thickly.
“Yes, the bite,” Peter repeated slightly annoyed. “Do you want me to draw you a picture?”
He stepped closer to the boy, hearing his heart skip a beat at that. He grabbed his arm, easily flicking the button on the sleeve open.
“Now, what do you say?”
“I… I…,” Stiles stuttered.
“Yes or no, Stiles?” Peter asked impatient. “Or do you want to let your heart decide? You know that it could have been you in the woods as easily as it was Scott. I need a pack. You would be as strong as him, maybe even stronger, but at least equals again…” He slowly pushed the sleeve of Stiles’ shirt up, revealing the creamy white skin beneath. “You would be strong, no longer one of the overlooked,” he continued to tease. “You could actually help your friends and fight with them to protect your Dad and the rest of Beacon Hills.”
He looked at Stiles for a long moment, while Stiles nervously licked his lip, then biting on it as he thought about Peter’s offers. He nodded his head ever so slightly in the end.
Peter’s eyes took on an excited gleam and an almost wolfish grin spread out on his face. His eyes started to glow red and his teeth grew over his lips. Then he bit into Stiles’ arm.
Immediately a pained cry ripped from Stiles’ lips echoing clearly in the garage. He sunk to his knees as Peter eased his teeth out again, a hand clutching the bite on his arm, breathing heavily. Peter looked at him for a moment then he turned towards the car of the nurse.
“See you later,” he said easily and got in leaving Stiles behind as he drove away.
Stiles whimpered in pain as he took his hand away to look at the wound.
“Oh shit,” he muttered to himself. The blood had already stopped flowing and so he pulled the sleeve back down to hide the bite. He got to his feet unsteadily and stumbled out of the garage, forgetting about his Jeep completely.
~*~
The rest of the night was a blur for Stiles. Getting to the hospital, his Dad, Jackson, the Argents and then the fight with Peter.
Jackson and he had made a quick detour to the school, really quick with Stiles driving the Porsche, to build some more Molotov cocktails. After Scott had told him that Lydia’s mixture hadn’t ignited on impact Stiles had read up on it and knew the formula himself now.
Jackson was as helpful as ever, meaning not at all, as he just watched with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
He snorted amused as Stiles almost dropped the bottle with nitrous acid when unexpected pain shot up his arm from the bite.
“You want to blow up the school?” Jackson asked still chuckling and Stiles rolled his eyes.
“I rather just want to blow up your face.”
He handed Jackson the finished bottles and left him standing there, absently rubbing over his arm.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” Jackson asked as he hurried after him. Startled Stiles looked at him, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
“No… nothing,” he stuttered. “Uhm, it’s just an itch. You know, mosquito bite.”
“Aha…” Jackson said sounding and looking doubtful.
They arrived just in time to save the day, in Stiles’ opinion at least. Scott was on the ground and so were Allison and her Dad. Stiles looked around for Derek and his heart skipped a beat as he saw him lying on the ground unmoving. As much as he hated and feared the older Werewolf somehow he didn’t want to see him dead that much anymore.
The night in the school when Derek was impaled by the Alpha and thrown away like a ragdoll had been enough, thank you very much.
The Alpha roared and advanced to their friends and without thinking much about it Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail at him only to have his heart skip another three beats as the beast caught the bottle.
He gulped as the beast turned to him, seemingly with a sneer on his lips. The next moment Stiles startled badly as the bottle burst in the Alpha’s paw and set him on fire.
Jackson maybe wasn’t as quick as the situation at hand demanded but at last he threw the bottle and fueled the fire even more.
The beast roared, stumbling over the leaves strewn ground before collapsing. Peter appeared again, burned and bloody, lying on the ground gasping for air.
And then it was Derek’s big time. He strutted over to Peter’s fallen form and despite Scott’s pleading he ripped Peter’s throat open with the sharp claws of his hand. Desperate cries rang through the forest as both Scott and Stiles watched him in disbelief. Derek didn’t care, as the light had left Peter’s eyes he turned back towards the others with a smirk.
“I’m the Alpha now,” he growled as he flashed his eyes. A low whine came from Scott as he cowered a bit.
Stiles didn’t miss the smug little grin that came to Jackson’s lips and vanished as soon as he noticed that Stiles was watching him.
“Ok, that was delightful,” Jackson said abruptly and turned to his car. “Enjoy the rest of the night loser.”
He got in the car and without further ado drove away.
A growl was forming in Stiles’ throat and he tried to suppress it, digging his fingernails in the palm of his hands. He gasped lightly as a sharp sting run up his arms from his fists and when he looked down he saw some beads of blood dripping from his closed hands. He eased his fingers away and cursed under his breath. The nails had elongated themselves and turned into claws. Swallowing deeply and taking a couple of breaths through his nose he tried to calm himself and willed the claws back.
It took him a moment but he managed to get calm enough to have the claws vanish and the wounds close. Only then he turned back towards the rest.
They were deep in conversation; Argent was talking urgently, gesturing with his hands while Allison leaned against Scott who had an arm around her. Only Derek was half heartedly listening as his eyes were trained on Stiles.
Stiles gave him an uneasy smile and swallowed nervously as Derek’s eyebrows furrowed together in his usual frown. He couldn’t suppress the relieved sigh when Derek looked away again.
There was this uneasy feeling crawling up his spine. Like his skin was too tight and he needed to run, to strain his legs, to feel the wind rushing past him, hunting, killing, blood, blood, blood.
He needed to get out of there.
~*~
Derek was relieved when Argent finally left with Scott and Allison. For a moment they had been confused on where Stiles had gone but seeing that Jackson’s car was gone too they assumed that he had left with him. There came a whiff of disappointment from Scott as he realized that. Derek neglected to mention that Stiles had been still around even after the rich kid had left in his Porsche. But he just wanted to have them all gone from his property to finally take care of Peter’s corpse and he really didn’t need some kid interfering with it, again. He was probably behind some bushes puking his guts out anyway.
Maybe he would go looking for the kid later, maybe he would even give him a lift home, seeing that he was stranded in the woods now. Maybe. Later.
Hiding the dead body beneath the tiles of the floor and making it seem like only the fight between Kate and whoever had taken place in the house wasn’t as easy as he had thought but he managed it. Avoiding to look at Kate’s corpse in the other corner wasn’t that easy either. He managed that too.
He looked around for Stiles again as he stepped out on the porch but he couldn’t see him anywhere. A weary sigh escaped him as his conscience told him to go looking for him at least to make sure that he got back to civilization in one piece. Despite everything there were indeed wild animals out there and they surely weren’t above attacking an awkward teenager.
Using his heightened senses to get a trace of Stiles he started walking into the woods. It was no problem to pick out Stiles’ scent among all the others. He had smelled it often enough already.
The first time when he caught them in the preserve, then he had been surrounded by it almost all day when he was hit by the bullet. It wasn’t unpleasant either, unlike most other teenage boys. Even Scott didn’t smell that nice even so he was a Werewolf. It was something sweet and minty nevertheless almost manly, with the underlying hint of fear, that made Derek’s inner wolf growl protectively.
Though, now there was more as he followed Stiles trail deeper into the woods. Blood. Stiles’ scent was mingled with the smell of blood and something animalistic that Derek had smelled already in the clearing in front of the house but couldn’t quite place.
He found Stiles quite a bit away from the old Hale house. His back pressed against the trunk of a tree and his hands on his head, half covering his face, as he tried to fist them into his too short hair. He was breathing heavily like he had run all the way.
“Stiles?” Derek asked as he got closer.
“Go away,” Stiles growled, surprising Derek with how animalistic it sounded. Nevertheless Derek got closer to him.
“Leave me alone,” Stiles said.
“What’s wrong with you?” Derek asked and kneeled down in front of him.
“I said leave me alone!” Stiles shouted; the deep growl in his voice undeniable. He looked at Derek with a heated glare his eyes glowing orange.
Derek couldn’t quite hide the gasp when he saw that. It wasn’t the red of an Alpha but also not the bright yellow of a Beta. This was something else, a dark golden hue Derek had never seen before. And also something that was new to Stiles. If he would have been a Werecreature before Derek would have noticed already.
“What happened?” he asked but Stiles only growled.
Suddenly he lashed out. His fingers adorned with claws, he swung his hand towards Derek before he got up and started to run. Derek could avoid the claws easily and got up too. He needed a short sprint till he had reached Stiles and could tackle him to the ground.
“Calm down,” Derek growled as Stiles fought against him.
He turned on his back beneath Derek, growling and fletching his teeth while he tried to hit Derek with his clawed hands. The older one easily caught his hands at the wrists to stop him. He gathered them in one hand and pushed them to the ground above Stiles head. With that he effectively blocked all of Stiles attempts to get free. The boy was writhing beneath him like a snake, muscles straining almost to the point of tearing while growling and whining ripped from his throat. He sounded like a wounded animal fighting for his life.
“Stiles, calm down,” Derek demanded. He put more weight on Stiles middle, sitting down on his hips with all his weight to keep him from moving too much.
“Stiles, dammit, stop.”
Stiles strained his neck, lifting his head as high as possible, snapping his teeth.
“Enough!” Derek yelled and pushed Stiles’ head back down with his free hand, keeping it on his forehead but Stiles didn’t let up.
“Stop!” Derek growled then, it was quieter than his yell before but with an alpha vibe that resonated deep in Stiles as Derek’s eyes flashed red. Immediately Stiles stilled, his eyes going wide in shocked surprise as he looked at Derek.
“Are you calm now?” Derek asked after a moment of quiet staring.
The claws and pointed teeth together with the glowing eyes had vanished from Stiles and he tried to nod despite the hand on his forehead. Derek looked at him a moment longer, studying Stiles cinnamon coloured eyes as he tried to gauge his reaction. Then he moved his hand slightly, giving a faint nod before he took his hand away from Stiles’ head. A moment later he let go of Stiles’ wrists when he was sure that no attack followed. He sat back a bit and watched Stiles intently as he gasped and his cheeks flushed even more than they had been.
“Better?” Derek asked curtly and Stiles nodded.
At that Derek lifted his weight and Stiles quickly scrambled out from under him and away till his back hit the tree behind him. He pressed a hand to his groin as unsuspiciously as possible nevertheless Derek noticed and a small smirk appeared on his lips.
“What happened?” he asked and Stiles let out a breath.
“What happened?” Stiles asked in return and Derek could hear his heart picking up the pace again. “A lot happened! Like my best friend got turned into a Werewolf by an Alpha Werewolf who tried to make him murder us and just now we fought against this super huge hairy badass thing that, guess what, tried to kill us all. Again. So we set it on fire! And then you, yes you, slashed his throat and killed it!” he rambled, his heart going even faster and he dug his fingers in his hands again. Immediately the sweet and coppery smell of blood rose up as Stiles breathing picked up again.
“You need to calm yourself,” Derek said.
“I am calm,” Stiles growled through his teeth.
“No, you’re not,” Derek said with a hint of frustration. “Take a deep breath.”
Stiles did that and held his breath for a moment.
“Better?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded. “Good, now who bit you? Was it Peter?”
“Yeah”
Derek let out a breath and bowed his head for a moment, trying to decide what to do.
“Ok, come on, get up,” he said as he got up himself. He held his hand out for Stiles to take.
“What? Why?” Stiles asked confused.
“I’m going to take you home,” Derek only said.
“No!” Stiles gasped out. “You can’t! My Dad… I… I… can’t… not like this.”
Derek only sighed wearily again.
“You’re coming with me,” he said after another moment of thinking and hesitating.
“Whoa, really?” Stiles asked surprised and Derek only rubbed the bridge of his nose, already regretting his decision.
*~*
“Oh, nice,” Stiles said when Derek pushed the heavy steel door, that lead to his flat, open.
Derek nudged him slightly as he hesitated at the door and looked around.
“You can take the couch,” he said when he had closed the door behind them. He walked deeper into the loft and Stiles followed, still looking around curiously.
“The couch is in the living room,” Derek added as Stiles trailed behind him to his bedroom but Stiles ignored him as he looked around even more curiously, studying every detail of the room. Derek growled under his breath as he took a blanket from the wardrobe and threw it at Stiles as he reached for a picture frame on the bedside table. The blanket effectively draped over him and he scrambled to get it off his head again. Only to get hit by a pillow when he had freed himself.
“Couch!” Derek growled and pointed out the door. Stiles looked dejected at him and trudged away as he had gathered the blanket and pillow in his arms.
Derek looked after him his brows drawn together in a tight frown as a pang of regret pinched his heart.
*~*
The next morning Derek woke up with an unfamiliar weight pressed against his back and when he looked over his shoulder all he could see was reddish brown fur. Yes, fur.
He looked at it for a moment till realization hit him. There was a fox lying on the blanket next to him.
“What the…!” he yelled and jumped out of bed.
The blanket got tangled in his legs and he dragged it along tumbling the red fox, who was resting comfortably on his bed, head over heels down the other side.
There came an indignant yelp from the small creature as it hit the ground. Seconds later it jumped up on the bed, growling and its fur bristling.
“Oh, no no no,” Derek said as he backed out the door before he turned and run down the stairs shouting, “Stiles!”
Though there came no reply and all he found when he reached the couch was the blanket he had given to him and his discarded clothes all over the place.
“Stiles!” he shouted again, then he flinched with a curse on his lips when a sharp pain run up his leg.
He looked down and saw several small puncture wounds trickling blood above his ankle. Not that far away the fox sat looking almost smug.
“Stiles?” Derek tried, looking directly at the fox. He swished his tail harshly.
“Oh, damn…” Derek said and run a hand through his hair. “How did you do that?”
The fox made a motion that looked like a shrug and Derek took it as that. He sank down to the ground, his back against the back of the couch.
“Can you turn back?” he asked next. Again the fox made the shrugging motion.
Then he raised his nose, sniffing the air while he turned his head from left to right and back till his eyes fell on Derek. He got up and walked over to him, placing his front paws on Derek’s legs, he had folded Indian style beneath himself. It gave Stiles enough height to rub the side of his face along Derek’s scruffy jaw. Derek’s inner wolf whined slightly though when Stiles licked over the tip of his nose he pushed him away.
“What the hell,” he said as he brushed a hand over his nose while Stiles made a noise that sounded very much like snickering.
“Can you please try to turn back now?” Derek said with a huff and Stiles sighed.
He stepped a couple of steps back and closed his eyes. A faint light engulfed him and his features changed.
“Really, you’re no fun, Derek,” Stiles huffed though Derek only snorted and raised an eyebrow as he looked at Stiles.
It took Stiles a moment to realize that he was standing butt naked in front of the older man. Blood rushed into his cheeks and down his neck as he tried to cover himself.
With a long suffering sigh Derek got up from the ground and reached over the back of the couch to gather Stiles’ clothes. Then he turned around and threw them at the boy who caught them a little less graceful as possible.
Derek couldn’t deny that he enjoyed what he saw though, cursing himself a little bit inside his head.
“So, you can turn into a fox?” Derek asked when Stiles was dressed again.
“Yes, seems like it,” Stiles said. “Why a fox though? Peter was a Werewolf.”
“Sometimes it takes the form of the inner self but it is rare and it is even rarer to be able to turn into a full animal shape. Especially for someone newly bitten. How did you do that?”
Stiles shrugged again, “I woke up like that.”
“And then you decided my bed was a better place to sleep in?”
“No, actually I was there before. Man, you really are a deep sleeper, aren’t you?” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing over the back of his neck.
“What were you doing in my bed?” Derek asked alarmed.
Stiles blushed furiously red again and licked his lips as he avoided Derek’s eyes.
“I just didn’t want to be alone,” he admitted quietly. “In case I lost control again.”
Derek sighed.
“You just turned yourself back from being in full fox form. I doubt that you have any control issues.
Show me your hand,” he demanded.
Stiles frowned at him but held his hand out.
“Unsheathe your claws,” he ordered next and after a couple of tries Stiles sported a set of perfectly shaped sharp claws on his fingers, all his fingers, and in addition a pair of equally sharp canines that pinched his lips, drawing blood. Though, the wounds healed immediately.
“We will work on that,” Derek said. “But I think till the next full moon you’re safe to not lose control."
*Fin*