Derek and Stiles spent more than a year together, having faced all sorts of creatures and murderers, had finally had the time to set the record straight between them. To recognize that despite being totally different, they are made for each other. That's always been true and will continue to be true for the rest of their lives.
But something happens that neither could have anticipated; something that will change both of them. Something that will alter the future they had planned together and the older future will cease to exist.
Stiles woke in complete darkness.
It took almost a minute for him to realize that important detail because his whole body ached and his head felt like it would explode. Opening his eyes took minutes to accomplish, not wanting to set off fireworks in his head, he slowly blinked. Even when his eyes finally stayed open and he finally accepted that he was in fact fully awake, he couldn't see anything. The cold ground beneath him told him that he wasn't in his room anymore and the musty smell was definitely not the normal teen musk that normally filled the Stilinski home. These facts coupled with being unable to see anything made his heart pound. He moved his hands to feel the ground below him, not wanting to risk moving upright is there wasn't room or if he were on a ledge. When he was confident in the ground under him, he moved to his knees, moving slowly to try and keep the pounding of his head down. When he finally made it to his knees, he had no better idea of where he was than he had when he was laying down, only that it was dark and cold.
"Okay, stay calm, Stiles," He said to himself, as the suffocating feeling of a panic attack coming on. He began patting down his clothes frantically, desperate to find something, anything that would help him see. Although he had never smoked, he always kept a lighter handy because he never knew when one would come in handy, especially after it was effective with the defeat of Peter. He pointlessly shoved his hands in his pockets but knew before his hand even entered that there was nothing there.
Fortunately, whoever had it was that had taken him didn't know who the hell he was and didn't know that the inner pocket of his jacket was where his phone was. That discovery should have brought a sense of calm, calmed his pounding heart, but instead it was accompanied by another detail that made him freeze: the jacket and shirt he wore was sticky on the inside. The ground didn't seem wet and it hadn't been raining the last time he could recall being outside. He pushed that thought out of his head for now and placed his phone in his back pocket out of sight and carefully felt the shirt. The amount of wetness and the stickiness of his skin beneath the fabric could only mean one thing: his jacket and shirt were soaked with blood.
Feeling a swell of panic rise again, he felt gingerly around his chest and stomach and cried out in pain when his fingers brushed his waist. The wound felt deep and was more a gash than a scratch; the blood hadn't dried and was clearly still actively bleeding. Now that he had noticed it, the pain of the wound was hard to ignore. Gasping in air he grabbed the phone from his back pocket, but terror and pain made his hands clumsy and the phone fell to the floor. He swore under his breath hoping that it hadn't broken, since that was his only hope of a way out without blindly staggering his way out of wherever he was. He really didn't want to meet whoever had taken him and definitely not before the calvary that was his friends decided to arrive. He held his breath as he pressed the power button and felt his heart skip a beat when the phone lit up. He almost had another heart attack as he waited for it to start up and another one when he had finished typing in his code. It was 3 am on Sunday, March 16. The last time he had been awake was outside the cinema to see the premiere of a movie on Friday. He had been unconscious for over 24 hours, in that time he had been attacked and kidnapped. He could be anywhere.
More frightened than he could ever remember being in his life, Stiles went into his recent contacts and tapped Derek's number. Seconds passed while the phone rang, it felt like an eternity until he heard:
"Stiles?" Despite Derek's voice in his ear, Stile felt more alone than before because being able to hear and know the person was on the other line was quite different when one was lost and abandoned in god knows where.
"Derek—" Stiles said like a prayer, his voice cracking slightly.
"Where are you? Holy God Stiles, we've spent the last two days looking for you!" Derek replied.
"No—I don't know—" Stiles tried to say but his hands shook and each word felt like fire.
"How do you not know?"
"I—I can't see anything—" Panic closed up his throat against and he began to feel dizzy, the rushing of blood through his head made him lightheaded and added to his fear.
"Are you alone?"
"No—I don't know—" Stiles sobbed, aware that he could be alone with whatever attacked him. "I don't know Derek—"
Fortunately Derek could hear the panic in his voice and realized demanding answers would only make things worse. "Don't worry—We'll get you out of there. Can you move?"
"M—Move?"
"Yes, are you tied up?"
"No—but I can't see anything," Stiles whispered, breathing hard with panic.
"Okay, okay, don't worry," Derek repeated, soothing Stiles despite the distance, Derek had been around Stiles enough to know what a panic attack sounded like. "Turn your mobile GPS on, when it's on we'll be able to find you. I can find you."
"GPS?" Stiles asked stupidly, panic and fear making his brain stutter.
"Yes, connect your mobile GPS," Derek said, showing rare patience.
"I'll have to get off the phone, I can't turn it on—"
"It's okay, I'll call you back—"
"No—no don't go please," Stiles begged, momentarily forgetting his task.
"Stiles—" Derek said on a sigh.
"I'm hurt—"
"What?"
"I have a wound on my side, like a stab wound," Stiles replied urgently.
"Stiles—turn the GPS on, nothing with happen, I promise."
"Derek—"
"Stiles, listen to me, I will not leave you. You know I would rather die than let anything happen to you but I can't find you if you don't turn on the GPS. You scent has faded, we tried to find you by scent." Derek stopped talking when Stiles gasped.
"Derek—okay,"
"That's my boy—" Derek whispered, waiting as Stiles turned on his GPS.
"I—I think that's it," Stiles said.
"Okay, let me see," Derek whispered. "You're by the old estate, about twenty miles away."
"How'd I get here?" Stiles asked, trying to remember the blank spots in his memory.
"I don't know but we'll find out."
"Get me out of here please, Derek, please—" Stiles moaned.
"I'm on my way, I'll be there in five minutes, wait for me," Derek said, distant banging could be heard through Stiles' phone.
"Don't hang up!" Stiles cried. "Please don't hang up, don't leave me."
"Never—" Derek choked, "I'm going to put you on speaker so you can keep listening to my voice. The sound of a car door closing made Stiles' eye tear up in relief. "Are you with me?"
"Y—Yes I'm here."
"Keep talking Stiles."
"I don't—I don't know what to say," Stiles bit his lip; he was trembling hard and tasted blood in his mouth. "I'm scared."
"Stiles Stilinski doesn't have anything to say?" Derek teased gently. "Call the news. I'm on the way, I'll be there soon."
"I need—" Stiles sobbed as he sat down on the ground, body trembling, "Need to feel you."
Derek growled, the result of anger at not being with Stiles, not being able to help immediately. "I'll be there before you know it."
"Derek—"
"Breathe—" Derek whispered, trying to soften the words so they didn't seem like an order because if there was anything that Stiles didn't respond well to, it was orders. "I need you to breathe Stiles, breathe for me."
"I—I can't—"
"Yes you can," Derek urged. "You're the bravest person I know, and I refuse to believe you'll pass out from panic after the million other things you've been through."
"But I didn't have you—" Stiles whimpered, trying hard to get oxygen into his lungs.
"And now you have me, I'm right here, you can hear my voice."
"Yeah—Okay—" Stiles replied, wincing around the tremor in his voice.
"I need you to do me a favor," Derek asked, hoping to distract the other man.
"A favor?" Stiles questioned hesitantly.
"Yeah, I need you to give me all the details you can about where you are."
"I told you I couldn't see, my phone only lights up a few inches from me."
"What does it smell like then? What do you hear?"
"Derek—I'm not a werewolf, I can't sniff out a sweaty sock or hear miles away." Stiles argued even as he listened as hard as he could.
"Just because you're not werewolf doesn't mean you can't catch something, human ears are still pretty sensitive, calm your breathing and try."
"I don't hear anything—"
"Try again, really listening." Derek said, he remained as quiet as he could for a few minutes. "Take a deep breath and release it slowly. Dow it a few times, now when next you inhale concentrate on what you smell and say the first thing that comes to mind.."
A few second of silence followed Derek's words until Stiles spoke, uncertainty heavy in his voice. "Wood—It smells like wood. Like what the carpentry section in Lowe's smells like."
"Are you sure?" Derek asked.
"No—I told you I wasn't a werewolf but that's the first thing that popped into my head," Stiles snarked, pain, cold, and panic making him snappy.
"There's a sawmill in that area, I'm pretty sure you're there."
Stiles heard him speak from his phone but he also heard his voice nearby him outside. "Derek!" Stiles yelled.
Suddenly there was a faint noise; Stiles jumped to his feet, terror flooding his body. There was clang, closer this time like a door being open. He clapped his hands over his eyes, if whatever had taken him was coming back, Stiles didn't want to see it. There was only faint rustling of clothes before muscled arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a muscular body. Stiles stared shaking against the body, not wanting to hope that it was actually Derek.
Derek felt Stiles' body convulsing as the smell of terror and blood rolled in waves from the other boy. "I'm here, don't worry, I'm here." But there was no response from Stiles, just him trying desperately to get closer. Derek buried his face into Stiles' hair and pulled in the scent that was buried under the terror and blood, an unfamiliar scent made Derek freeze however.
"Who have you been around?" Derek asked, his eye flashing red and his teeth lengthening.
"What?" Stiles asked confusion and fear still evident in his voice.
"Who have you been around?" Derek growled.
Stiles heard the alpha in Derek's voice and moved back away from the other man, noticing the red eyes and fangs with rising fear. "I haven't been with anyone but whoever took me Derek! I woke up alone and the last thing I remember was going to the movies with Scott."
"You don't smell like Scott, not even a little, you smell like another wolf."
"I—I don't understand, I haven't been with anyone since I woke up," Stiles said.
The alpha didn't respond, but he jerkily grabbed Stiles' shirt and yanked him forward. He pressed his face against the boy's hair and tried to catch the scent again. "You've definitely been with another werewolf, I can smell them."
"I swear, I haven't been around anyone that I can remember except for Scott and now you," Stiles replied, almost choking on fear again.
"Show me—" Derek lisped around his fangs.
"What?" Stiles enquired, confusion marring his face.
"You said you had a wound, show me the wound," Derek said, dragging him out of the area they had been standing in, through a warehouse, and stopping by the car. Stiles' arm was dropped suddenly and Derek crossed his arms. Stiles raised his shirt and jerked his head up to look at Derek when the older man sucked in a breath through his teeth. Stiles remained silent as Derek stepped forward and touched the shredded skin gently.
"What's the matter?" Stiles finally asked after watching Derek painlessly touch the wound.
"You haven't been stabbed Stiles, you've been bitten," Derek said, his voice serious and close to a growl.
"What?" Stiles yelped.
"You've been bitten by a wolf," Derek repeated as he stepped back and looked at Stiles with sad, serious eyes. "There's another alpha in the area, and he's made you part of his pack."