Chapter one: We're only young and Naive still
Stiles grabbed a hold of his head as it began to pound with an increasingly annoying ache, fumbling through the front door after having just floundered his way home from an abnormal and very disturbing session with his new principal, who also happened to be his best friends currently on hold girlfriend Allison Argent's grandfather, who also happens to be a werewolf slash supernatural threat, band of hunters. A whole family of crazy assholes was currently more like it.
After having probably one of the best night of his high school life and making the winning shot of the lacrosse game, he was kidnapped. Fucking kidnapped! Knocked out, awakened in a basement with two werewolf betas- Erica and Boyd- dangling from the ceiling in chains, electric ones putting through a current to weaken them and force them in a state of duress, unable to shift enough to pull themselves loose. Normal chains and shackles would have been torn through with enough force by a werewolf, especially an angry, caged one at that. It was seeing them both so helpless that made Stiles fume.
The kid had been through plenty of excuses, many many excuses, so many excuses, he was sure to drown in them very soon, just on Scott's behalf and Allison's. Trying to give her credit, so she was pissed at Derek because he bit her mom, and her mom decided 'Oh I refuse to live as one of them so I'll convince my husband to kill me when the change happens'. He knew how it felt to lose a parent, especially a mother...he knew the feeling too well. But Allison had lost her fucking mind. She had gone bat shit crazy, and yes, Stiles had voiced those exact words, many times in the past forty-eight hours.
The girl would kill any of them, if they tried protecting Derek. Even though Jackson was their priority right now, she still was set on making Derek pay, even though what he'd done was not fully on purpose. He was trying to save Scott. The poor guy never got a break, good intentions or none at all, Derek seemed to have the worst streak of luck.
Unfortunately, it seemed so did Stiles. Erica had warned him off with her looks, shaking her head weakly, trying to tell him to back off. He figured out not much sooner that they were sending electric currents through the binds. Before he could even react to any thought of getting them help, he was struck into an uncomfortable conversation, with the very disturbed Gerard Argent. Of course Stiles mouth never shut up, and the sick old man had the nerve to say he 'wished it didn't have to be this way', or some excuse like that. Biggest bullshit in the book of bullshit! Stiles thought, even before the man had began pounding his 'message' to the Alpha upon his very breakable human body.
Stiles felt the pain, felt everything ache, but he refused Gerard the satisfaction of seeing him just break down in the midst of this minor battle. He could be strong, if possible, for the two betas whose eyes were wide and bodies struggling against the bindings. It was a nice attempt, Stiles appreciated the effort, even if it was a lost cause. He even managed to smile through the blood dripping from his nose and his lips, and his cheek...probably looking like hell, for the two Betas as he was pulled from the basement. Eyes locked on each others until he was hauled out of view.
Now here he was, already tripping over himself and the entrance of his house, trying to make his way to the stairs. One foot at a time, he tried, truly, to remind himself of that pattern. The stumbling only got worse, and the heaviness of the last eighteen hours has taken its toll. Gripping the stair rail with as much energy as he could muster, he used the free hand to create an odd patter of pulling with the railing and pushing up from the steps, barely making it to the second floor landing when his Fathers voice came in a calm but worried tone, traveling to Stiles ears when he straightened himself out. The few steps he managed to his doorway were painful, and heavy. His energy drained. He watched his father hang up the phone with what he guessed was the police station. His Dad probably reminded them every ten minutes that his son was still out there, somewhere. Only he wasn't, and Stiles hitched a breath of the familiar scent of home as he spoke.
"I'm right here dad..." He said softly, even his own voice sounded different to him, like it wasn't even him who spoke. The Sheriff turned his head sharply, eyes blazing emotion, brimming with tears yet to be shed. Stiles felt himself take a heavy step forward as his fathers questioning gaze took him in. His eyes burning through the teen. Stiles knew his dad was taking in the bruised, split open lip, the marred flesh of his cheek, the dark layer mooned around his eye. Stiles practically felt his eyes boring into him.
"Stiles.." Stiles let out a tired sigh.
"Dad, I'm fine, really..." He blew out a breath, not sure if even he believed his own words. "It was just some kids from the other team...Seriously...I'm okay it's not even that bad."
The man was not convinced. Even after a very shaky embrace and nearly an hour of reassurance that it wasn't a big deal, Stiles knew he'd only won by proxy. The Sheriff knew the boy was worn out and tired, and Stiles was thankful the man gave in when Stiles began nodding off at the foot of the bed. When Stiles came too, he shifted uncomfortably, shifting in the lacrosse gear he realized he was still very much strapped into.
The boy heaved a throaty protest as his body ached, forcing itself to try and shift off the bed awkwardly. Stiles managed to stable himself with the wall when he did manage to stand, taking a moment or two before removing the gear in strained, short movements. It tumbled to the floor without grace, Stiles heaving a sigh of relief from the strain being lifted from his aching body. He moved for the bed again, not caring right now whether he may be in desperate need of a shower.
And he would have been very, very, very happy to let himself sleep until the world ended, if a cool breeze didn't shove its way through the atmosphere like it owned the place. Stiles shivered, twisted carefully with a grimace while he tried to dislodge the comforter from under his weight, trying to shove himself under it somehow. It took some effort not t twist the wrong ways, but he ended up finally under the covers of his bed, letting out a strangled breathe as he settled into the confines of the mattress.
Almost immediately the teen fell back into slumber, completely unaware of the narrowed red eyes gazing intently at his sleeping form.
Author's Note: So this will be a chapter fic, I honestly have not written in a long time, not something new. This is going to have to be a R&R with you guys, and girls, I will need feedback so I know how I am doing, sometimes it will be short, sometimes longer, it depends on my muse. Bare with me, I honestly love Sterek, I love those of you authors who are writing it too, the AU's are wonderful, those of you who write it terribly, well try to stop maiming me lol jk, otherwise your heads are in the right place :)
Thank you.