Author's Note: Something a little darker and angstier than what I've been uploading recently! Rating is subject to change due to upcoming sexy times! Leave me a review and let me know what you think! C: xx

With a thousand lies
And a good disguise
Hit 'em right between the eyes
Hit 'em right between the eyes
When you walk away
Nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes
See 'em running for their lives

. x .

Derek gritted his frustratingly human teeth as Deucalion's claws dug further into the back of his neck, determined not to cry out even as he felt the unmistakable scrape of claw against bone. It had been nearly two years since they – Derek's largely unmanageable little pack, plus Scott and his 'human pack' – had defeated the Alphas; Derek still felt nauseated every time he remembered how he'd ripped out Aiden's throat. Knowing that he'd essentially been forced to do so to save Allison's life didn't make the guilt any easier to live with; nor did it do anything to foster the fragile truce that had been established between him and Chris Argent. Chris had blamed Derek for Allison being out in the woods in the first place, for the fact that she'd had to spend three weeks in hospital recovering from her injuries.

A tiny part of him, the dark, twisted part he preferred to keep hidden, was now mocking him, telling him he should have done more make sure Deucalion couldn't come back. He'd foolishly assumed that the injuries that he and Scott had inflicted on him had been too serious to survive; he'd tracked the man's scent until it reached the fast flowing river on the edge of the preserve. When he'd been unable to pick anything up on the other side of the water, he'd come to the conclusion that Deucalion must have drowned, his body washed out to the Pacific. Now, on his knees in the mud and leaf mold, Deucalion's claws piercing his skin as they grated hideously against the bone of his spine, Derek couldn't decide who he hated more, Deucalion for continuing to exist, or himself, for being careless enough to find himself in this situation.

Deucalion hadn't succumbed to his injuries, nor had he had the decency to drown in the river that night; Derek supposed the one saving grace was that none of Deucalion's pack had survived, having encountered Argent's hunters on the outskirts of town, sticking militantly to the code as they'd hacked Ethan and Kali in half. Derek had watched from a rooftop nearby, needing to know for certain that the threat had gone. All this meant now was that Deucalion had become an Omega; albeit one with a terrifying amount of power.

"Where's your pack now, Hale?" Deucalion hissed, bringing his head level with Derek's ear. Derek tried to turn his head away from the stench of Deucalion's breath but the tight grip the omega had on his neck made it impossible, as did the wolfsbane currently coursing through his system and sapping his strength and preventing him from shifting.

"They're close." Derek growled, not caring whether Deucalion could hear the lie in his voice. It wasn't a complete lie; the members of his pack were all away at school, with th exception of Boyd, who was up in Washington, and Allison who didn't count, they'd all picked colleges in California in a bid to keep the pack strong. Scott and Isaac were the nearest, both attending Chico State. Isaac came back to town on a regular basis, but now he thought about it, Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Scott. Although, he supposed that might have more to do with him not speaking to Stiles than Scott not being in town.

"That's not what I hear." Deucalion drawled. "I hear they've all up and left you. Abandoned you. Well, all except this one."

A very human scream from somewhere close by made Derek jerk his head up, forcing Deucalion's claws further into his neck. Stiles, his brain helpfully supplied. That was Stiles screaming. He wondered for a moment if the wolfsbane was making him delirious as well as weak; Stiles was supposed to be a good couple of hours drive away at school in Arcata. Derek tried not to think too much about the last conversation he'd had with Stiles about that, viciously accusing Stiles of only applying to schools in state in some desperate bid to stay close to him and that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Stiles had looked like he was about to cry for a second before telling Derek to 'go fuck himself' and driving off. Derek hadn't seen him again since that night and only found out from Isaac when he left town without saying goodbye; Derek had been determined not to let that bother him, and had been doing fairly well until one night when he'd been feeling particularly low about his pack all being out of town for college. He'd gone up to the woods to glower at his old house for an hour before driving around aimlessly, only realising he was heading out of town and up towards Humboldt State when he'd pulled over for gas.

"I found your pet, Hale. That tiresome little human you insist on keeping around."

"He's nothing to do with this." Derek said in an undertone. "Leave him..."

"Too late." Deucalion snapped as two heavy set men appeared in the clearing, dragging Stiles between them. Even through the cloying scent of Stiles' fear and his own blood, Derek could smell that Deucalion's lackeys were human, which given the condescension in the older man's voice as he spoke about Stiles, surprised him. He felt his heart start to race as he saw Stiles for the first time in over a year.

"What's the matter? Can't turn anyone now you're an omega?" Derek growled, earning himself a violent kick in the ribs. He tried to twist away to ease the pain in his freshly broken ribs but was prevented by Deucalion's tight hold on him.

"Hired muscle, nothing more."

"Pathetic." Derek spat as one of the men pushed Stiles closer to Deucalion and Derek, twisting one of his arms viciously behind his back. From this close, Derek could make out the blood smeared across Stiles' left cheek, the look of defiant terror on his face. He could also see that Stiles was refusing to look directly at him, even though it was apparently causing him more pain to do so.

"Oh hey look," Stiles muttered as he was pushed in front of Deucalion. "It's the big bad wolf."

"You shut your mouth." The burly guy holding Stiles snarled and yanked his arm further up his back; Derek winced in sympathy as he heard the bones in Stiles' shoulder groan in complaint. "You don't talk to him."

"I'll do, ow, what I want." Stiles bit back, his face twisted in pain. "And, ow, trust me man, better people than you have, ow, tried and failed to get me shut up. Ow."

"Be quiet!" Derek closed his eyes, grimacing as the guy punched Stiles hard in the back of the head, knocking him to the floor. He must have indicated in some way that he wasn't watching the scene unfolding in front of him as Deucalion gave a humourless laugh and grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head upwards and forcing him to watch as Stiles was kicked viciously in the stomach; he looked on in disgust as Stiles rolled onto his side, curling in on himself , presumably in a bid to lessen the impact of the guy's boot. Derek could taste the bile rising in his throat as he watched the man's boot swinging towards Stiles' now exposed face and tried to cry out; the sound died quickly as Deucalion gripped him around the neck, his claws pressing into the thin skin of his throat, bringing fresh trickles of blood with them. There was a sickening thud as Stiles was kicked in the face and Derek turned away, his eyes squeezed tight shut, not caring that Deucalion's claws were cutting into his throat and that at any second the older man could slice his windpipe open.

"Oh, you'll watch this, Hale." Deucalion sneered. "Just like you watched Argent's hunters cut my wolves in half. And when we find the rest of your pack, you can watch what we do to them too. And then once they're all gone, well, you can watch what I'll do to you."

"'m not pack." Stiles gasped from where he lay curled up in the dirt, dragging in air in deep, shaky breaths.

"What?"

"Go on, ask him." Stiles hissed. "He'll tell you."

"You lie, human." Deucalion countered.

"No, I really don't. Tell him Derek, tell him how I'm not part of your pack."

Derek cringed inwardly; yes, maybe he had told Stiles that once during a particularly heated argument in a bid to get Stiles to back off. It had worked to some extent; Stiles had stopped hanging around the warehouse and loft with the pack and as a result, Derek's belongings had stopped stinking of Stiles' arousal and want making it easier for him to focus. Unfortunately, it had also resulted in Scott punching him in the face for making Stiles cry and demanding to know why Derek felt the need to be such a dick about Stiles having feelings for him and couldn't he have just let him down gently. That had annoyed Derek more than the punch to the face; he'd been trying to let Stiles down gently for months but subtly was a language Stiles didn't seem to speak and he'd continued dropping increasingly unsubtle hints about how they could be more than friends while making snarky remarks about the woman Derek had been seeing at the time in a bid to distract himself from his own feelings about Stiles. Being hurtful and spiteful was the only way Derek had been able to make him go away; he wasn't particularly proud of his actions but kept reminding himself that Stiles deserved better, far more than he could ever offer. After being told in no uncertain terms that nothing was ever going to happen between them, Stiles had stopped chasing after him and got on with his life.

He was jerked back to the present by the feeling of Deucalion's hand slipping away from his throat as he snarled and snapped at Stiles. Derek wondered if enough of the wolfsbane had left his system for him to be able to fight off Deucalion; even if it had, he realised, he probably wasn't strong enough to take on the two men lurking in the tree line, or to get Stiles away from any of them.

"So you keep saying," Deucalion was muttering. "but if you're not pack, then why does this – " he dug his claws sadistically into the back of Derek's neck again "– smell like it wants you?"

"Fucked if I know." Stiles replied angrily. "Again, ask him."

"I'm asking you."

"And I'm telling you, I don't know. Why are you even here?" Stiles demanded, trying to push himself into a seated position.

"This deserves to suffer the way I've suffered." Deucalion growled, twisting his hand to carve new wounds into the back of Derek's neck. "If it weren't for Hale, my wolves would still be alive. This would be our territory."

"You dragged me out here for revenge?" Stiles grumbled, shuffling around in the mud to glare at Deucalion. "You're going to make him watch you kill me for revenge?"

"Yes."

"Dude, Derek doesn't care. I'm not pack, I'm not important."

"Hmm, I beg to differ."

"God, could you just, you know, kill me already and get this over with. Listening to you rambling on like this is pretty torturous."

"Shut up." Deucalion snapped, nodding to the man standing behind Stiles, who landed a sickening kick to Stiles' lower back. Derek was mentally urging Stiles to shut up as well; he was desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation but with Stiles continuing to antagonise Deucalion, he was certain it would only end in death.

"Hey man, I'm just telling you the truth." Stiles gasped as he struggled to look up at Deucalion. "You're like some bad movie villain. Pathetic."

"Pathetic? To want revenge on the one responsible for the deaths of my pack? You think this and it's family haven't done the same to others?"

"He never killed anyone who didn't deserve it." Stiles muttered. "Your pack invaded his territory and hunted us down. You'd have had us all killed without a second's hesitation over nothing more than a bit of territory, so don't pretend this is some noble 'avenging their deaths' mission."

"You do not speak about my pack, human."

"I mean, you're really are pretty pathetic, aren't you?" Stiles continued conversationally, pushing himself up onto his knees and spitting out a mouthful of blood. Derek glared at him, desperately willing him to shut the hell up. Apparently the subtly of this was lost on Stiles who – Jesus Christ – was giggling as he wiped mud from his face with the back of his hand before looking up at Deucalion, a wicked grin on his face. "Come to put flowers on their graves, is that it?"

"Stiles..." Derek managed to grind out before Deucalion's claws tightened again. He could feel his own blood trickling down either side of his neck, could hear the quiet dripping sound as it fell from onto the leaves beneath him.

"Only we burned the one we had to kill. And Argent's hunters did whatever it is they do with trash." Stiles continued, turning his hand over and picking at a patch of caked on mud. "So, uh, yeah. No graves."

"You think you won't suffer for your insolence, human?" Deucalion asked, his grip on Derek loosening momentarily.

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles sighed, bowing his head. Derek could still smell the fear rolling off Stiles, but underneath that could detect the smell of something different, something that smelled a little like burning tin. "You think you won't suffer for yours?"

"You dare..."

Stiles laughed; for all it was a quiet sound, it was menacing and had Derek's wolf trembling inside him. Something about the noise Stiles had just uttered connected with a primal part of him, a part of him that wanted to run to it's den and cower until the monsters had gone away. Derek tried to drown out the part of his brain that pointed out that the way in which Stiles' was laughing at Deucalion while wearing that malevolent grin on his face was a little too Kate like; he felt his stomach roll in disgust as his devious mind attempted to compare Stiles to her.

"Yeah, I guess I do dare." Stiles was whispering.

"Why aren't you scared of me, human?" Deucalion demanded, his features contorting as he shifted.

"Ooh, now I am." Stiles smirked. "I mean, I've never seen a werewolf before. So fucking scared right here."

"I'll make you..."

"Yeah, make me pay. Heard you the first time."

With Deucalion's grip on his neck loosened, Derek was able to look up just enough to see Stiles still kneeling in the dirt, his lips moving as he muttered silently; no matter how hard he strained, he couldn't hear what Stiles was saying.

The burning metal smell was getting stronger now; Stiles looked up through his lashes at Deucalion, still wearing the same terrifying smile on his face. Derek watched in horror as Stiles' eyes flashed, their usual amber-brown turning a pale silvery colour in the gloom of the forest.

"I think the real question is why aren't you scared of me?" Stiles asked, holding his hand out in front of him, palm up.

"Why would I be scared of a wretched, snivelling human?" Deucalion sneered, taking a step towards Stiles as he let go of Derek. "You're weak, breakable, worthless. I pity you."

"You really shouldn't." Stiles smiled. Derek saw Deucalion cock his head to one side as a curious silver-blue ball of light formed in Stiles' hand. It was roughly the size of a softball, little crackles of electricity moving over its surface as Stiles' grin widened.

"What are..." Deucalion started, lifting his foot to step closer to Stiles; before he could finish his sentence, the ball flew from Stiles' hand, hitting Deucalion square in the chest. Derek couldn't see the expression on the older werewolf's face from where he knelt in the dirt, but he could see the look Stiles was giving him, a worrying mix of smugness and horror as the light penetrated Deucalion. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was going to happen; Derek watched, frozen to the spot as Deucalion raised his head, looking from his chest to Stiles. With a peculiarly soft sound, Deucalion...exploded? Imploded? Derek couldn't be sure; he seemed to do both at the same time before his body just disintegrated. If someone had asked Derek a week earlier what it would like to see a 200 pound plus man explode, or implode – he still wasn't quite sure, he would told them to expect blood and guts and gore flying everywhere, rather than just sort of crumbling and disappearing, leaving nothing but a smell of burning tin and singed hair. He staggered to his feet, focusing all his concentration on shifting, his eyes flashing red as he snarled at Deucalion's two lackeys, who were edging away from Stiles with looks of trepidation on their faces.

"Run." Derek growled, stepping forward in case they didn't get the idea. They apparently didn't need telling twice, running blindly into the woods without so much as a backwards glance.