His name was Stiles and he was terrified. His feet carried him down the alley but he knew he couldn't keep up the pace. They were so close and he had no place to run. As if to complete the betrayal, Stiles slid on a discarded bottle and landed hard on his back. He flailed, trying to get back on his feet, but before he could, a low growl sounded by his ear and he looked up to see a large black dog looking down at him, its lips curled in a snarl revealing long fangs. Stiles whimpered but fell still.
A woman with long, dark hair crouched beside him. Her eyes were hard and cold. Stiles saw the insignia on her jacket and realized he'd been run to ground by an Argent. He began to shake. The woman lifted his chin with a gloved hand and scanned the bar code imprinted across his windpipe. She let out a sound of disgust.
"He belongs to the Hale pack," she announced to the other Hunters.
Disappointed sounds rippled through the group but the dog was taken away, at least. Stiles shivered as the woman stood and motioned for him to get up. He did so but didn't rise farther than a crouch. She regarded him silently.
"You're a long way from your pack," She said softly. Looking down at the file displayed on her scanner, she added, "From the looks of it, they want you back home ... Stiles Stilinski. Why did you run?"
Stiles' face burned with humiliation. He didn't want to say ... didn't want this stranger to know why he'd fled the only home he'd ever known to try and find his way alone in the human quarter of the City.
"My name is Allison ... you don't have to be afraid of me, Stiles," the woman said gently.
Stiles glanced up at her but he said nothing. After a moment she sighed. "Alright then ... you'll stay the night in our holding pen and your pack will send an agent to retrieve you."
"Thank you," Stiles managed to croak out.
He was put in the back of a van with two other male humans. They did not look at one another. When they reached the station, they were taken and led through a series of rooms by an assigned Hunter. In turn they were allowed to shower, given clean clothes and taken to a room with several cots extending from the walls. There was no scent to any of the surfaces in the room so Stiles knew that they were frequently cleaned via a molecular sweep.
The other two men watched Stiles. He sighed. They were from the same pack ... one with less standing than his own. The minute he'd removed his clothes for the showers, they'd seen the tattoo on his back and had fallen back, allowing him first choice of everything. Rank was all among the Packs ... down to the humans they kept. Stiles chose one of the cots and they immediately moved to the other side of the cell. He stared at the ceiling. It was a long time before he could sleep.
The next day, a guard entered carrying three meals. Stiles walked up and took one of the trays while his cell companions waited off to one side. The guard's body language was relaxed and no small wonder ... pack humans were trained from birth to obey and to only show aggression when in defense of their home and owners. The door behind him was open because he knew they wouldn't run. Stiles thought about it but he knew he wouldn't get far.
Instead he sat on his cot and ate the sandwich and piece of fruit provided for him. There was a water fountain in the cell so no worries about dehydration. Simple but healthy fare ... the packs were particular about how their humans were treated even if said human had managed to commit such a grave offense as running away. Afterward, he lay back and waited. He wondered who the pack would send. Probably not one of the Hales themselves ... heaven forbid they should lower themselves.
Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at the thought. The Hales had provided him with home and hearth ... he had enough to eat, a safe place to sleep, clothes to wear and when his mother had passed away they had attended the burial in the human section of the Hale family cemetery. He would have been content to exist that way until he died if the matriarch, Talia, hadn't decided otherwise. Stiles had run on the night of the full moon four days ago. He hadn't looked back since and if he hadn't triggered an alert by trying to steal food, he would still be running.
The door opening broke his muse and Stiles automatically sat up. The guard motioned to him and he walked out to the claiming area. Stiles felt a wave of relief when he saw they'd sent the one person he counted as a close friend in the Hale pack ... Scott McCall. He smiled but the smile faded when another figure stepped up beside Scott. Tall, dark-haired and wickedly handsome, the man beside Scott was Derek Hale ... Talia's son and the man she expected him to mate.
Stiles shrank back when Scott held out the collar and leash. He shook his head. "No ... come on ... please?"
Scott's eyes widened as he tried to impress upon Stiles the importance of not resisting right now but before he could do anything, Derek grabbed the collar and stepped around Scott to stand in front of Stiles. His hazel-green eyes were fastened on Stiles' until he dropped them and looked down at the floor. He blinked hard as the leather collar was tightly fastened around his neck, trying to hold back tears of shame. Once it was cinched, Derek handed the chain to Scott and stalked out of the station. Scott sighed and followed at a slower pace so Stiles could keep up more easily. He talked as they walked.
"Stiles ... Stiles why did you run? Of all the -"
"Is my dad ok?" Stiles interrupted.
Scott nodded. "Of course he is ... Talia wouldn't take this out on him. But Stiles ... she's pretty angry. They all are ... and Derek ... just don't set him off if you can help it."
"Scotty, I couldn't ... I just couldn't ..." Stiles said softly.
Scott paused and looked at his friend. "I know ... but in another week you won't have that choice, Stiles. You'll be in Heat and -"
"Know how it works, Scotty," Stiles murmured.
Scott leaned close. "Stiles ... it's worse than that ... Peter called for you to be cast out of the Pack."
Stiles began to shake. He pulled back against the leash even as Scott tugged him forward with a desperate look. Scott might have eventually calmed Stiles enough to get him outside but Derek, tired of waiting, came back through the door and took in the scene. He stalked over and before Stiles could scramble away, the werewolf reached down and grabbed Stiles' collar. The human was dragged out the door and thrown none-too-gently into the limo waiting just outside. He curled up on the floorboard as far away from the seats as he could. Derek and then Scott got into the car. Derek glared at Stiles until the human crawled over to him and curled at his feet. His entire body burned with humiliation.
Derek didn't look at him, but he spoke in a low growl. "Mother will decide what is to be done with you Stiles ... until then you'll be leashed and you'll act with proper subservience. If you can't do that, I'll just recommend that Peter's suggestion be implemented. I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in such a horrible place as our pack."
Stiles bit back the sob that threatened to escape. In a week, if he wasn't cast out, he'd be mated to whomever Talia chose – and he was fairly certain it wouldn't be Derek. Nothing would ever be right again.