Relationship(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Allison Argent, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey/Danny Mahalani, past Jackson Whittemore/Lydia Martin

Tags: Alternate Universe, dark Derek, Mental manipulation, magic Lydia, mention of past character death (canon and non-canon), stalking, non-consensual touching, mates, lots of non-consensual everything really, angst

Sequel to "Kill of the Night."

Get Under Your Skin

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"You don't have to do this Stiles." Lydia's grip on his arm tightened desperately. "We'll think of some way to protect him, I promise."

"He went after my Dad, Lydia. You of all people should understand why I have to go." Lydia sighed before slowly releasing him and wrapping her arms around herself instead.

"Of course I understand. That doesn't mean that I have to like it." Stiles smiled at her sadly and pulled her in for a hug. She resisted for a moment, arching backwards away from him in an attempt to distance herself, before finally giving in and squeezing him so hard he thought she might have cracked his ribs.

Stiles buried his face into her hair for a moment and just breathed in. She smelled like the air before a summer storm. Warm, bright, sharp with the smell of ozone. He released her reluctantly and stepped back. Through the window to his right he could just make out the machine that was helping his Father to breathe. The sound was steady and reassuring but it still made his heart clench painfully.

"I'll be careful. I'll make him pay for everything that he's done." For a moment Stiles could see the doubt reflecting in her eyes but she masked it expertly after only a second. He could almost make himself believe that he had never seen it at all.

"Take Scott with you." Stiles shook his head immediately but he stilled when he caught sight of the shine in Lydia's eyes. "Please Stiles. I don't know how much good he'll do but you need back-up. I promised I would stay here which means that Scott's the only one left that's even remotely qualified to deal with this." Stiles nodded before he was distracted by the rapid staccato of his Father's heart. He shifted to go in but it had evened out again before he had taken a step. Stiles unclenched his hand slowly and when he turned to face Lydia his face had hardened.

"I have to go. Call me if anything changes, okay?" Lydia tore her own eyes away from the glass and caught Stiles with them.

"Call Scott." Stiles nodded and headed toward the exit. "I mean it Stiles!" Lydia's shout was muted as the door closed behind him.

Stiles had no intention of involving Scott in any of this. He refused to lose another person he cared about to the destructiveness of Derek Hale's obsession.

He pulled the zipper of his hoodie up and headed west. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek's pack was already tailing him but he had faith that they wouldn't act without Derek's express permission. He also knew that Derek wouldn't give them that permission until he was sure that Stiles had finally hit rock bottom.

Well fuck that. Stiles was tired of waiting. He was tired of watching everyone he loved be destroyed. If Derek wanted him then Derek was going to get him. Stiles was going to make him rue the day that he ever went after his family.

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He made it to his house without interruption. He slipped inside soundlessly and immediately went to the trunk in his Father's room. The shotgun felt light in his hand and Stiles smiled fondly as he remembered the first time that his Father had ever taught him how to shoot. It had been just after his Mother was killed and Stiles' Father had insisted that he was only teaching him because he wanted him to feel safe again. Stiles knows now that his Father knew more than he let on about the Hales. Now Stiles knows that his Father was preparing him for war.

Well Stiles was ready (or as ready as he was ever going to be). He grabbed a backpack from the closet and started loading it with wolfsbane bullets, mountain ash and throwing knives. In anyone else's hands the knives would have been pointless to bring along but Stiles had been practicing. He could blind a bird at twenty feet which meant that he could sure as Hell slow a werewolf down.

Fifteen minutes later found Stiles standing at the bottom of the staircase. He paused for a moment and his eyes caught the edge of one of the oldest photographs in the house. It was one of his Mother and Father at the beach when Stiles was three. Stiles Dad was smiling at the camera but Stiles' Mother was caught in profile as she grabbed for Stiles' little arm as he started taking off down the beach after a seagull. Stiles' chest constricted as he looked at it and for a second he was almost overwhelmed with the feeling of loss. The moment passed though and Stiles glued himself back together again before he walked out and locked the door behind him.

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The streets were silent as Stiles headed through downtown. The hospital loomed ahead of him like a beacon in the night. To an outsider Stiles merely looked like a young kid heading to the hospital prepared for an overnight stay. Backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the street surreptitiously Stiles hoped that Derek's pack fell for the guise as well.

Sure enough, two minutes away from the hospital entrance, Stiles heard a howl to his right that was quickly answered by a howl to his left. Stiles tensed instinctively before he bolted. He headed east but was quickly redirected south by the chorus of howls behind him. Stiles almost smiled. Everything was going to plan.

His cell phone vibrated tersely in his pocket and Stiles knew that Lydia had heard the howls as well. Stiles knew that if he lived through this Lydia would be waiting to punch him in the throat personally. Stiles wasn't worried though because if he made it through this alive he would gladly punch himself in the throat.

He hung a left onto Sycamore and paused for just a second to rummage around in his backpack. Right about now Boyd, Erica and Isaac should be about ΒΌ mile behind him which meant that he had about a minute and a half to make it to the warehouse district to set up his final stand. Stiles turned right and started running again. The sound of his blood pumping was loud in his ears but the thrill of possible victory sang through his veins. If he could make it to the second floor he would be able to take out at least two of them before Derek even arrived.

That was when he heard it.

AaWwwHoooo.

Stiles heart almost stopped. The hair on the back of his neck startled into attention and Stiles foot slipped out from under him. He hit the pavement hard and skinned his hands but shoved himself to his feet almost immediately because there was no time to lose. The thrill of victory had vanished at the sound of Derek's howl and Stiles felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. The top of the warehouse appeared through the maze of buildings and Stiles pushed himself harder. The sound of clawed feet on asphalt picked up behind him as Stiles cleared the first building. Two more howls sounded and Stiles tried to block it out. He could see the door. He could make it.

He cleared the door running and skidded to a stop as he threw the mountain ash behind him. It landed in a solid line across the door frame. Stiles' lungs were heaving as he braced his hands against his knees. The mountain ash gave him a few minutes at best and Stiles straightened as he tried to locate the stairs. They were off to the left on the far side of the room. Stiles could still make this work.

He took a step. One step.

"You were so close Stiles."

Everything went black.