1
"The simple, yet undeniable power of human love."
To be honest, these words had knocked Derek of his very steady feet. Firstly, he hadn't ever thought Peter would succumb to the idea of how powerful human love could be. He had always imagined Peter the more coldblooded, human despising werewolf. And he honestly had to admit that Derek himself had started to believe in human love since he had met Scott. But then also, secondly, it meant that there was some securing to do. Securing in the way of making sure Jackson and Lydia would get together. And he reckoned that the job might be harder than he wanted it to be.
When Derek had been called by Scott, who had told him to come to the lacrosse field as quickly as he could, he knew he had to make sure the two of them got together immediately, or anyway, as soon as physically possible. Whatever he was going to find on that lacrosse field, he told himself, could have been prevented by the love of those two moronic teenagers.
Jackson was just being laid down on one of the ambulance's stretchers when Derek arrived. When Scott neared to explain what happened, he was interrupted by Lydia, who grabbed him by the arm tightly and started sobbing frantically, her weeping overwhelming the words she was trying to say. Derek saw Scott's facial expression darkened as they both clearly heard her saying, "He's gone, Scott. Stiles is gone."
"Lydia, calm down," Derek tried to intervene, trying to rip her hand off Scott's arm without hurting her. "What happened?"
Scott quickly explained how Gerard had become the Kanima's new master, how he had tried to kill Isaac; but most importantly, how Jackson had tried to kill himself, bravely and almost certainly succeeding, instead of letting the monster inside him kill others.
"Wait, Isaac's still here?" asked Derek, changing the subject without thinking.
"Yes," Scott replied shortly, and before he could explain more about Isaac, Lydia cut in and hysterically yelled at them, "Goddammit, aren't any of you going to do something about Stiles?" with her voice cracking angrily and her cheeks smeared with the mascara she was wearing.
"I don't know what to do about Stiles-" Derek started, and before he could wonder out loud where the hell the boy could be, he received a fierce slap in his face and a, "You are not going to leave him for death, you fucking ponce! Go and do something, or I will!"
Both of the men glanced at Lydia, who stared at the hand with which she slapped Derek with unbelievingly. "Fine," said Derek, frowning deeply. There was something off about this, he realized as he watched the girl in front of him, her make-up messed up as her hair, clothing smeared with dirt and grass and her eyes bloodshot. "Where do you think he might be?"
"I have hunge," muttered Scott as he watched Lydia intently and warned her not to follow them. "To your house, Derek."
"What, to my house?' asked Derek as he followed Scott, who was quickly picking up pace, running towards the forest that laid behind the lacrosse field. The boy ran past his mother yelling for him, and past Stiles' father who tried to stop him. When the man realized he couldn't, he just yelled, "Please find him, Scott, please!"
Derek asked Scott as he ran next to the boy, "Why would they go to my house?"
"They want you," hissed Scott without giving Derek one look. "This is all your freaking fault, you know?"
"How is this my fault?" argued Derek agitatedly as they crossed another few trees he didn't recognize. Annoyance, but more importantly, anxiety, blurred his sight.
"You should've been there tonight," Scott yelled at him, switching from two feet to four. "You could've foreseen this. I can't handle this on my freaking own, I can't save all my friends and keep an eye on your pack too." A few minutes of silence followed, their footsteps echoing through the empty woods. "Where were you anyway?"
"Too long of a story, Scott, I'll tell you someday-"
"Has it ever even crossed your mind how this 'I'll tell you someday'-bullshit is starting to piss me off?" Scott yelled, his voice even louder than before, and Derek could tell he was getting very close to the edge of forgetting to safe Stiles and just attacking Derek. So Derek played safe; he kept his mouth shut tight as they neared his house. The front door of the ruin was wide open, inviting them in in an eerie manner. Derek would've gone in without a doubt, but Scott stopped him for asking what they'd do now.
"I thought that was clear," said Derek, tilting his head to one side, looking at Scott's dilated pupils, shining their amber color at him angrily. "We're saving Stiles, remember?"
"Jerk," Scott hissed and pushed Derek out of his way, making his way into the dark house. He yelled Stiles' name, a yell that came out more frenzied and more feminine than he wanted. His cry was replied by a loud thud that must have come from the first floor.
"You should probably-" Derek tried, but again he was shoved aside. He was wondering why he was even allowing himself to be shoved aside, but before he could do something about it Scott had already climbed the stairs and was approaching the room where the noise had come from. "Never mind," Derek muttered underneath his breath, following the younger boy as quickly as he could.
They found both Gerard and Stiles in the only room that was still functioning. Stiles laid on the ground, motionless, his eyes closed and his limbs spread around him randomly. Cold wind surrounded them, for the room was decorated with a giant hole caused by the fire. They could see the forest; the slow rustle of the trees – a sound that usually soothed – was the only sound besides their noisy breathing.
"Oh, Derek, Scott. I'm glad you could join us," Gerard said, appearing from the corner of the room they couldn't see properly. "You know, I've been going through this moment so many times –the one more adventurous and, I must admit, more horrific than the other." Gerard approached them, in his hands the sword he had tried to kill Isaac with earlier that evening. "Most of them end with all of you annoying little creatures dead, which, I again must admit, is quite a good end."
"You dream too big, old man," hisses Derek as he turns to Scott, motioning him to go and help his friend who was still lying on the ground as if dead.
While the thud of Scott's knees violently falling to the ground surprised the older man, Derek was able to grab a hold of him, his arm tightly gripping the man's neck as he watched Scott examine the young, limp boy lying on the ground. The sword the man was holding clattered onto the ground, lying in front of his feet.
After a few moments of silence, Scott asked, "How did you do this?" as he moved Stiles' limp arms.
"What?" asked Derek while jerking the older man's body back forcefully when he tried to escape his grip. "What did he do?"
"He's paralyzed," explained Scott as he moved the legs of the boy, showing Derek how his legs flopped as he did. Scott carefully moved Stiles' head up, tilting it to the right to expose a small delicate cut in the back of his neck. "Alike the Kanima's," he explained, eyeing both Derek and Gerard confusedly before asking again, "Jackson is dead, Gerard, how did you manage to do this?"
"Even though I am quite sure our little friend Jackson isn't dead, my boy, I must say-" he stopped talking, holding up both his hands warningly, revealing the claws that replaced his hands. "These two come in quite handy."
It shot through both of their minds. How Matt had wanted the bestiary merely for an explanation why he himself was slowly turning into a Kanima. They remembered the patches of lizard-like skin the boy had carried on and around his stomach. And instead of having these spots on his stomach, Derek and Scott both realized, Gerard had them on his hands.
In two moves Gerard worked his way out of Derek's grip, that had loosened because of the distraction. It took only one other move to scratch the neck of the werewolf, causing him to fall to his knees, and then to his stomach, limp like Stiles, who slowly seemed to be regaining consciousness.
"I don't think you want to fight me on your own, Scott," warned Gerard, his eyes steady on the claws that were his hands. "I don't think you should, either. You might end up like Erica – the poor girl, her death wasn't the prettiest, I assure you – or Boyd – he was fairly stubborn, the stupid boy – or Isaac. He was my favorite to kill, so brave. I must warn you before I go, Scott. Bravery is perhaps the worst kind of stupidity." In a wink, Gerard disappeared out of the room by jumping out of the gaping hole in the wall.
'Scott?" distracted Scott of the urge to jump out of the window to indeed fight Gerard on his own. The boy that lay underneath him, though, seemed to need his help first. Stiles stared at him confusedly and started muttering, "Scott, get out – it's Gerard – he has claws – he has these claws and he is partly a Kanima just like Matt and he paralyzed me and kidnapped me in the first place and I don't know but you have to get out, Scott –"
"We know, Stiles," Derek grunted from where he was lying, still on his stomach, face down on the ground. "Shut up and try to move!"
"I am trying," Stiles said quickly, "but I can't!"
"He said he's killed them," Scott said, as he turned to Derek, who was lying on the ground as helplessly as Stiles was. "Boyd, Erica, Isaac-"
"Wait," Stiles quickly interrupted, "Lydia was at the game – where is she, is she safe?"
"I can't know for sure, Stiles," Scott said, as he dropped himself down on the ground, slumping against one of the walls that were still intact. "I didn't see her at the end of the game – which you played awesome, dude."
"Thanks," muttered Stiles, a weak smile appearing on his face.
"It's not the time for sentiment, you two," Derek grunted from where he was lying, only able to raise his head enough to not lick the ground while talking. "You'd better get yourself to move so we can get going."
"You aren't going anywhere in this state, dude," Stiles contributed promptly.
"Not with that mentality, no," Derek grunted again, feeling the urge to kick the boy albeit his own limpness. "Just get your goddamn legs to work so we can go!"
"I got my arms to work, look," Stiles said, as he started waving his arms around. "You're not even that far yet, are you now?"
Derek shot him a venomous look before both of them started trying to lift their legs again.
"Hey, Stiles," Scott started, when the silence started becoming awkward. "Your father was freaking out pretty much, you should probably text him you're ok or something."
"Shit! My dad," Stiles prompted. "Was he there? Did he see me score? Did he see how I won the game?"
"I guess he did, Stiles. Just text him, alright?"
Stiles was looking a lot better when he reached his pocket to get his mobile phone, only to remember that he was wearing his lacrosse gear. "Dammit, how am I going to text my dad if my mobile phone is still in the locker room?" Stiles asked as he dropped his head onto the ground, sighing heavily.
Derek walked both Stiles and Scott back to the lacrosse field, which was already deserted as they arrived. They walked to Stiles' car, the only one left on the car park. Before he left, he told Scott to stay with Stiles for the night, "Just to keep his mind off things, alright? Don't leave him."
Scott nodded and stepped into the car, and as they drove away, Derek allowed himself to sigh and mutter a slur of curses under his breath, turning to return to his house once again.
(A/N: first I'd like to excuse for the fics I have deleted in the past few days - I promise I won't delete this one. Just to inform you, the M-rating is for later on chapters, violence and language. Thanks for reading, leave me your thoughts!)