Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

Read on, oh faithful ones...

Warnings: canon-typical violence, more gore than usual, and descriptive torture.

...

Stiles weakly yanked at the chain that bound him to the ceiling, the effort lackadaisical after so long captured. He had been knocked unconscious for most of the trip to wherever they were, and then drugged when he woke up in this place when his captors tired of his incessant talking and questions. Derek didn't look much better, strung up to a fence and injected with wolfsbane-infused drugs.

Stiles must have really pissed their captors off, because Captor A knocked him out with a crowbar after a few days, and they'd woken up in this contraption. Stiles was strung up to the ceiling, a stone under him, and he had to keep the scale set to 80 exactly or else he'd electrocute Derek. After three days, it was only nerves and adrenaline that kept him awake now, all real attempts at escape long past. Stiles was exhausted, but he couldn't fall asleep; the moment he fell asleep, Derek would die and it would be Stiles' fault.

After two days, Captor B hadn't been amused at Stiles' insults and jeers, and had stabbed him. The wound in his side was still oozing at times, the blood making the stone beneath him even more slippery and difficult to keep his weight at 80.

Across from him, Derek was dozing - or inasmuch as he could while they were captured and being tortured - and though Stiles knew Derek needed his sleep to recover his werewolf strength, he needed to stay awake more, for both of their sakes. Before he could call out to wake Derek up, Stiles' feet slipped on the blood-wet stone beneath him, and as his weight changed on the scale, a bolt of electricity surged through Derek's body, jolting him awake quite literally.

"Sorry, sorry, Derek, I'm so- I'm sorry," Stiles breathed, half-sobbing.

"No, no. I'm - I shouldn't've fallen asleep. Need to keep you awake," Derek said, words heavy with sleep.

Their captors had dosed Derek with a modified strand of wolfsbane to keep him down. It wasn't fatal, but while his body continued to fight it, he needed a full night's sleep to overcome the effects of the plant. So far, he'd barely managed a full four hours before their captors had blown an air horn into the room, their laughter echoing in Stiles and Derek's ringing ears.

"Tell me about your first birthday; the first one you remember," Derek added.

"My fifth birthday; there was cake, and I got a toy. I was bored of it after a day. Next," Stiles said.

"No, more detail than that. What kind of cake?" Derek prompted.

"It was chocolate. There was this really thick fudge icing that hurt my teeth. Mum covered it with a shit-ton of sprinkles, and I swear there's still some of those little bastards hiding in the lounge room now. Mum baked it and decorated it, and she let me help, but only 'cause I was good at school that week. I mean, I'd gotten detention twice, but also found out I had ADHD that week, so it balanced out, I guess."

"What was the present? The toy you got bored with?"

Stiles took a moment to breathe, wishing that there was more than blood and sweat in the air. God, what he'd give for fresh air...

"Stiles! Concentrate. C'mon, without your Adderall, you need something to focus on. What toy?" Derek asked, eyes drooping closed.

"It was a Lego set. Should've kept me occupied for weeks, but Mum found out about her frontotemporal dementia the next day. I've hated the things since, which is a shame 'cause the new Star Wars Lego sets do look awesome, but I just... can't," he cut off, his throat thick.

"Laura used to build castles with her Lego. She had a Lego character, said it was a werewolf princess. She made me be the dragon, then she made the princess escape and kill the dragon," Derek said with a brief smile, sadness in his eyes.

"You were killed by a Lego toy?"

"No; the toy changed into her. Playtime was the only time we were allowed to bring out our claws, so it usually ended with us wrestling. Laura let me win a few times."

Stiles wheezed a laugh, stopping abruptly when Derek winced when he slipped on the bloody stone again. He could no longer feel the pain from the stab wound in his side, and while he was woozy and light-headed, Stiles still knew that wasn't a good thing.

"Stiles? Come on, Stiles. Stay with me. You've got to stay with me," Derek called, letting out a whine of pain as Stiles' weight changed and electricity flowed.

"Shit! Sorry. I'm awake. I'm just... I'm so tired, Der."

"I know, Stiles. We'll get through it, okay? The others will find us," Derek added.

Stiles knew he was lying, even without hearing his heartbeat. As the kid of a cop, Stiles knew better than anyone the likelihood of them being rescued after 48 hours, and they'd been captured for far longer than that. Besides, they both knew that their captors weren't going to let them go, not after they'd seen their faces. Derek already knew all of this, so Stiles just kept his mouth shut and focused on the scale across from him.

He just had to keep the weight at a constant 80 and then they'd both stay alive that little bit longer. While Stiles was hanging from the ceiling with a wound in his side, Derek was tied up to a fence with a fucking pole through his side, so Stiles figured he was somewhat better in the long run. Though, without food or water, maybe they were even? It didn't really matter, all that mattered was that he couldn't sleep, he couldn't breathe too heavily, and if he slipped off the rock under his feet, Derek would be electrocuted within an inch of his life. The bastards that had caught them were really working on their sadistic sides.

"Try to sleep again, Der. You need to get your strength back. I'll be fine," Stiles said, focusing on the red numbers across from him until they were all he could see.

Derek tried to protest, but he was exhausted and he trusted Stiles to keep him safe and alive, even for another hour at least. After barely a minute of trying to stay awake, Derek nodded off again.

Barely any time seemed to pass before their captors made their way down the hallway, and Stiles called out for Derek desperately. They'd both discovered the hard way that it was bad to be asleep when their captors arrived; they were narcissistic as well as sadistic.

"Derek! Derek, wake up! I - I can't. Shit, wake up, wake up."

"I'm awake," Derek said, voice heavy and slurred.

"No, you're not," Stiles hissed. "Fuck, Der, they're going to do worse if you're not awake," he muttered, wincing as he let his foot slip off the rock a little bit, the numbers dropping to 79.

Derek jolted on the fence, his heart racing as a burst of electricity ran through him. "Shit. I'm awake now. Sorry."

"So am I. Fuck, Der, we - "

"Rise and shine, abominations," Captor C sneered as the door slammed open behind him.

"Been looking in the mirror?" Stiles asked, his voice laced with as much weariness as sarcasm. His sarcasm was literally his only weapon now that he was strung up from the ceiling and no longer had his bat.

Captor B made his way over to Stiles, looking murderous and ready to push him off his stone entirely. Stiles tensed, readying to kick the bastard in his bandaged arm the second he was close enough.

"Get back here, B. I have a better idea," Captor A said, smirking evilly.

Apparently smirking evilly was totally a thing now. Stiles used to think that Jackson could smirk like nobody's business, but this woman's smirk was made of nothing but pure and utter evil, and even Jackson would be terrified of her. Stiles held himself up the best he could, trying not to electrocute Derek again. A waited until B was back with C before she moved over to Derek. Stiles wondered if he could electrocute her, but A was smart and wouldn't get close enough to the fence or Derek to let him do that.

Captor A took a syringe from her jacket, looking over to Stiles to ensure that he saw what he was about to inject Derek with. Derek snarled on the fence, the noise weak and pathetic despite the wolfsbane he could smell.

"Uh, Derek, it's bad when wolfsbane is really, really dark, isn't it?" Stiles asked, needing to get as much information as possible. If he could get his brain to stop fluttering on the ceiling, then he might be able to do something.

"Stronger concentration; works faster on the shift."

"Fuck."

"Charming," A said, not looking impressed. "While I inject your friend here, make sure you don't lose your concentration. A full dose of this will kill him, and if I'm electrocuted while injecting, then my thumb will press this all the way down."

A didn't give a word of warning as she stuck the needle in Derek's neck, pressing the syringe down slowly and releasing the concentrated wolfsbane into his bloodstream.

"C, the chain," A called, C walking over with a thick length of chain and equally thick cuff.

C cuffed one end of the chain to Derek's ankle and the other to the fence. Stiles felt his stomach drop, surprised that the scale didn't change at the awful feeling that accompanied his captors' actions. B barked a laugh, not an evil one, but still the kind that still set Stiles' teeth on edge; he really wished he'd been able to kick the dickhead in the arm after all. A finished injecting Derek - thankfully, not all of it, but about a quarter was gone, Stiles could see - and then she unclipped him from the fence itself.

"There. That's just enough length for your friend to eat and devour you, so then we're within the law when we kill him."

"None of this is within the law, you bitch!"

Derek fell forward onto his knees, a growl in his throat. Stiles let all of his weight drop onto the stone, electrocuting A who had taken hold of the fence to take Derek down. She screamed as she spasmed against the fence, her hands curled into the wires and her hair starting to raise. On the ground, Derek was spasming as well, the electricity still running through the chain, but Stiles knew he'd forgive him for taking this opportunity. B ran forward to grab A with his good arm, shocking himself at the same time, both of his captors screaming in pain. Stiles really hoped that C would do the same thing.

She didn't. Instead, C ran at Stiles, punching at the wound in his side. Pain blossomed, Stiles gasping and wheezing, and he lifted his feet off the stone as blood started to ooze again. C put her own weight on the stone until it was at 80kg again. A and B's screams stopped, though they were both panting at the exertion and unexpected bout of electricity that still flickered through their bodies. B grabbed the fence with his bandaged hand to slowly stand, A taking his offered hand to stand up as well.

"If you don't get your feet on this stone in the next second, you won't have to worry about your furry friend killing you because I'll do it," C snarled.

"Gonna die either way. Ladies first," Stiles gasped, laughing hysterically with fear and hunger and exhaustion.

C looked over to where Derek had been spasming a moment ago. He hadn't been lying about the wolfsbane concentration working faster, and instead of Derek's red eyes and long claws, the three captors were faced with an actual wolf instead. Derek leapt for C, biting on her jugular and tearing it out in one swift motion, blood dripping out of his mouth and down his maw. C's death dislodged the scale again, and both A and B screamed and spasmed as they were electrocuted again. The bandage on B's arm was singed and starting to turn black.

Impassive, Stiles looked away from them and saw that Derek had gnawed his back paw off entirely, the cuff and chain no longer attached to him. Thankfully, his paw was already growing back. It proved just how much Stiles had been through that he didn't even feel sickened at the sight. Derek sniffed at C's dead body, a snarl rumbling in his throat, and then turned to look at A and B as the last of his paw grew back.

"How long's your change last, Der?" Stiles asked, swinging listlessly from the ceiling.

Derek didn't respond, watching A and B, his ears alert and tail twitching slightly.

"Lemme get that for you," Stiles murmured, catching on the stone with one of his feet before carefully pressing down onto the wet stone until 80 showed again. "Hey, Der? Attack."

Derek didn't even snarl at him for the bad joke, leaping forward as B tried to push A towards him. A screamed as Derek's claws tore out her stomach, intestines and organs spilling onto the ground. Derek didn't even stop, catching B on his heel and dragging him back into the room screaming. Stiles vaguely wondered what was happening outside; these three weren't their only captors, not for a werewolf of Derek's stature, after all. Maybe D and E were already readying the wolfsbane bullets?

He listened out for their footsteps over B's screams and A's gasps. After a few minutes, and Derek chewing on a few necessary body parts, their noises finally stopped. Neither D or E came running, so Stiles figured they weren't in the building; maybe they'd gone out to get A, B and C breakfast or something? Or maybe they didn't even live in this place and were still on their way over? Stiles knew that he was becoming over-focused on the issue even though it didn't really matter. He hadn't eaten, drunk, had Adderall, or slept in forever, so he figured a bit over over-focusing was the least of his problems.

Then he heard Derek snarling again, and Stiles looked down to see Derek approaching him.

"Uh. Der? You recognise me, right?" Stiles asked.

He didn't get a response, and there didn't seem to be any sort of recognition in Derek's eyes either. Stiles tried to lift his feet out of reach with all of his meagre strength. It wasn't much, and since Derek could still probably kill him even with his feet up like that, he soon put them down again. Stiles was too tired, and if Derek killed him, well ... at this point, it was better him than their captors.

"Can you kill me after I sleep? 'Cause I just feel like it's really unfair that I'm going to be mauled to death and I haven't slept in forever. Everyone says they want to die in their sleep, yeah? Why can't I just die after sleeping? That should be allowed! You... You don't understand a single thing I'm saying, do you?" Stiles asked, his voice hoarse and broken.

Derek licked at the blood-covered stone at Stiles' feet, tickling his toes. Before Stiles could even laugh at the sensation, Derek snarled and leapt at him.

...

Stiles opened his eyes to find that he was still strung up to the ceiling in the torture room. A, B, and C's bodies were no longer there, but blood trails showed that they'd been dragged out. Whether it was by Derek or D and E, Stiles had no idea. He looked over to the scale to see that the numbers were no longer lit, and the plug had been torn out of the wall.

"Der? You out there?" Stiles called, his voice soft in case D and E had returned.

Derek padded into the room, still in his wolf form, so Stiles figured he hadn't been out for that long if the wolfsbane still hadn't worked out of Derek's system.

"You're all right," Stiles breathed, feeling relief flowing through him. "You bit me. Were you really that hungry? Or..." he trailed off, looking down at his body the best he could.

Derek's bite mark was nowhere to be seen, and the stab wound on his other side was still closing, but it definitely wasn't the gaping hole it had been earlier.

"I was dying, wasn't I?"

Derek whined and moved forward to rub against his leg. Stiles tried to process the realisation that he'd been dying, that he almost died, that he was a werewolf now. He was no longer skin 'n bones human Stiles with sarcasm as his only defence. He was a werewolf now. He was alive. That was enough, for the moment.

Actually, not being strung up to the ceiling would be better, Stiles mused, looking up at the dead weights his arms had become. Werewolf healing didn't do a thing while he was still in pain, or being affected by something painful, it seemed.

"All that werewolf strength and I'm still stuck here," he muttered.

Well, he hadn't tried to get down yet. Maybe he'd get more feeling in his arms if he tried to move now that he was a werewolf? There wasn't any harm in trying, at least.

Stiles struggled to lift himself up, his arms protesting at the movement. He ignored the pain and let himself fall back down, gripping the chain and trying to pull at them at the same time. The chains clattered noisily, and Stiles gasped as pins and needles filled his arms as feeling started to return. He lifted himself up again, a little easier this time, falling and pulling at the chains. There was a creaking sound from the ceiling, which Stiles took as a good sign.

"Der, you better get back. I don't want to bring the ceiling down on both of us," Stiles said, lifting himself up again.

Derek flicked his ears and tail, then went to stand in the doorway. Stiles fell again, feeling a pinch in his fingers as he snagged the chain on the way down. He didn't even care, simply glad that he could feel his arms and hands again. With feeling returned to his limbs, he grabbed the chain and pulled it with all of his might. As exhausted as he was, still recovering from torture, and hungry and thirsty to boot, Stiles' might wasn't all that great. It took another five minutes of pulling before the hook in the ceiling began to bend and open. One more pull and Stiles fell backwards as the hook and chain came free. He slipped on the bloody stone, falling with a yelp. He expected to hit the ground, but stopped abruptly with an oomph of noise as Derek slid under him to cushion his fall. Stiles twisted around immediately, ignoring the blood that smeared against him as he hugged Derek to him.

"Der. Oh, fuck. We're alive. We're alive. I... I thought I wouldn't get to touch you again," Stiles admitted, sobbing against Derek's fur.

Derek made soft whining noises in his ear, licking at his cheek and neck until Stiles stopped crying. He wiped at his eyes and nose, realising all too abruptly just how hungry he was.

"I'm so hungry and thirsty. Did you find anything out there?" Stiles asked.

Derek licked at his hand and then headed out of the room, Stiles following him immediately. He drank two full glasses of water before he found a plastic bowl and tipped a glass in for Derek to drink. He lapped at the water eagerly, just as thirsty as Stiles.

Now that he was no longer in the torture room, Stiles could smell something other than blood and death. He could smell the mixed scents of A, B, C, D and E; C's perfume still lingering, the scent of A's wolfsbane syringe; the cologne that B used; E's deodorant; and D's cigarettes. Stiles mused that the smoke would probably linger longer than the perfume.

Stiles found food in the fridge, leftovers from several takeout places in the area. He set the boxes on the floor so Derek could have first pick, waiting until he dove for the chow mein before picking up a box of rice for himself. He couldn't be bothered finding cutlery, too hungry to wait even that extra minute, and scooped the food straight into his mouth eagerly.

As he ate, Stiles listened to the world around them. Derek eating and snuffling in the box for the last bit of food, the wind whistling through the crack under the door, a bird flitting past, a trail of ants marching, a caterpillar making its way along a branch. Stiles didn't even realise he was listening, too intent on his food, but he became aware of it a moment later when he recognised two voices, his fingers replaced with claws instantly. D and E were returning.

Derek snarled at the doorway, and Stiles tried to think of what to do. They could rush out of the house, but that might end up with them trying to chase after D and E in a vehicle. He was still too exhausted for a long chase like that, and Derek would be the same. Thinking of a plan, Stiles put a hand in Derek's fur to quiet his snarling.

"I'll go back downstairs and lure them into the room. You follow them and block them in, then we'll kill them, okay?"

Derek's tail wagged a little bit in response. Stiles figured that was good enough. He shoved the empty boxes under the kitchen bench across from them, hiding the boxes from view, then headed down to the torture room.

He'd only been a werewolf for about thirty minutes now, but it was already long enough to make him balk at the overwhelming scent of blood, blocking out everything else he'd become accustomed to. Stiles kept his food down and walked back in, bloody footprints left in his wake.

He heard D and E pull up, laughing to each other as they headed into the house. Stiles plugged the scale back in, the noise of the electric fence setting his teeth on edge, but it would provide enough noise to let D and E believe that A, B, and C were in the room.

"Hey, A! We brought coffee," D called.

Stiles sat on the stone, watching the numbers rise and the electricity's crackling noise becoming louder. He screamed once, just for effect, and heard E sigh in annoyance.

"They can't hear you over the electricity. C'mon."

"I don't want to go down there so early. I just finished eating."

"Yeah, so did I. It's either us going down there or A not getting her morning coffee."

"Fuck."

Stiles listened over the noise of the fence as D and E made their way down the hallway, and he grinned when he heard Derek padding along behind them. His steps would be too quiet for human ears, especially with the electricity working, but Stiles could hear him fine. The door opened and D walked in with a tray of coffee, E a step behind him. They both realised something was wrong a second too late. Stiles' claws, which hadn't disappeared since hearing their car, were embedded in D's throat in the next instant. E didn't even get a chance to scream, Derek taking him down from behind.

Stiles was covered in fresh blood by the time he figured out how to extract his claws (and fingers, oops) out of D's throat, and he wiped his grimy claws off on D's shirt.

"I need an anchor to get rid of the claws, don't I?" Stiles asked Derek as D's lifeless body dropped to the ground.

Derek gave as much of a nod as he possibly could, his jaws bloody and wet.

Stiles looked to D's body, then E's, then to Derek. Four days ago, Stiles knew that if he'd been a werewolf then, his dad would've been his anchor. Four days ago, his dad was all the family he had, and it was the most important thing. Now Stiles was a werewolf, had committed cold-blooded murder (he could imagine his father's disappointment already; D or E could've provided names of other hunters), and the fact that he was alive was more important than anything else right now.

"I... I think gratitude can be my anchor right now. I'm just so grateful I'm alive, y'know?" he added when Derek cocked his head at him questioningly. "Or maybe sleep. Can sleep even be an anchor? It's not really a feeling like anger or love, but geez, do I feel it," Stiles muttered, his exhaustion returning tenfold. "Should probably find a phone to call everyone," he added, yawning wide. "Should've called before eating. Or before killing these guys. Shit. Does D or E have a phone?" he muttered, crouching down to turn D's body over to check his pockets.

Both D and E had phones, but neither had service. As Stiles thought about just how clear he'd heard a caterpillar crawling along a branch, he realised it only had a small part to do with his werewolf hearing, and far more to do with the fact that they were the only humans (more or less) in a very large radius. He left the torture room and went upstairs, walking out to look at the outside world for the first time in days. The sun was brighter outside, the windows tinted and muted, and he squinted up at the sky.

Stiles breathed in deeply, fresh air filling his lungs. It felt so much better than any air he'd ever breathed before, and he felt a little hysterical as he realised now that he'd kill for fresh air. He breathed out and listened to the world, trying to hear a single living soul besides himself and Derek. He couldn't hear anyone. There were no sounds of traffic, no people, nothing.

The door opened and closed behind him as Derek made his way out of the house to sit next to him, a heavy weight against his leg. Stiles breathed in again, this time smelling fresh blood and spilled coffee.

"Where'd they get the coffee?" Stiles murmured, crouching down to touch the wet patch of coffee on Derek's fur.

It was barely warm, and since the coffees had been in travel mugs, Stiles figured they were a long way from anywhere. Farmland around them stretched to the horizon on all sides, except for the one road that presumably led towards a town with coffee and cigarettes.

Stiles felt himself swaying, the food and drink barely helping with blood loss, torture, and forced insomnia. Derek whined and nudged at Stiles to get him back inside. He let Derek nudge and push at him until they were inside again. Stiles couldn't bring himself to sleep in either of the bedrooms that their captors had slept in, their scents too dense and sickening in those rooms. Instead, he pulled the couch apart, dragged the cushions into the kitchen, then found and added a blanket that smelled musty but not like A, B, C, D, or E, thankfully.

"Well? What do you think?" Stiles asked with a drowsy smile.

He waited until Derek deemed his work as acceptable, curling up on a cushion, before he collapsed onto the cushion next to it to fall asleep, his arm slung over Derek to ensure he was close and his fingers curled in his fur.

...

Stiles had no idea what time it was when he woke up next, nor how long he'd slept, or even how long it had been since he'd been kidnapped. He could see the night sky outside, and felt both happy and a little cheated that it wasn't a full moon.

Looking down, Stiles saw that Derek was no longer a wolf anymore, and he sighed in relief. Realising that he was thirsty again, he filled both of their glasses, drank one down, and set the other beside Derek carefully. Then he climbed back into their makeshift bed and fell asleep. This time, Derek was the one who reached out and tugged Stiles closer.

...