Rescue (Sterek)

Summary: Sterek! Stiles finds himself shivering and tied to a tree in the forest. Derek investigates a strange scent

Word count: 1,160

Stiles woke slowly and numbly. He thought he was in his bed, but he was far too cold and sticky for that. Did someone dump a bucket of water on his head? The cold wrapped itself around his bone, like a parasite.

A panic rose in him. It was frosty icicle spearing his insides, frozen lakes stirring in his stomach. The panic was a yeti freezing everything with its breath.

Stiles took in a slow, chilly breath. He tried to yell but all that came out was a hoarse choking sound. Wait- there was something stuck in his throat. He hacked another painful cough and felt something sharp and cold bounce out of his throat and onto the ground.

It was a little pellet of white with jagged edges, gleaming from a sliver of the moon. It had a pink sheen to it, and Stiles realized with horror that it was blood. He tried to scream again, but nothing came out.

Stiles had no voice. He lunged toward the pellet, but the ropes tying him to a tree restrained him and cut into his wrists.

Stiles opened his mouth in a silent scream. The wind howled around him, masking any sound he could have possibly made. Tears flowed down his face and he coughed up blood. He wasn't making it out of here alive.

Derek's head snapped up. A tangy scent of blood drifted by, fleeting on the cold wind. Blood wasn't an unusual scent, but this time it was different than normal- it was warmer and more coppery.

Derek frowned, it was also familiar. His mind flickered through the different scents he was accustomed to and he was seized with a sudden panic as he realized it was human. Human blood on a full moon!

He focused and transformed, blue eyes glowing like steel. With an inhuman growl he leapt from the balcony and onto the roof. The full moon grabbed hold of his emotions and shook them, heightening them to such a degree that Derek was filled with a red-hot rage that threatened to break loose. The wind whipped around him and Derek howled at the moon in his rage and panic.

Stiles stopped thrashing around and focused all of his puny hearing abilities on a distant sound.

It was a wolf's howl, but far away.

He coughed up some more blood. It spattered on the wood. The blinding white of the pellet winked at him. It taunted him, dancing about free with the wind. Stiles knew with an absoluteness that this was what had stolen his voice and taken away his ability to call for help.
Once more, he futility cried for help with all his might, but nothing came out.

Still, there was hope. The wolf's howl meant that someone, probably Scott, had noticed he was missing and was coming for him.

The wind stirred up the leaves and Stiles realized the pellet was getting further and further away. He couldn't lose it! He stretched out his bare foot to reach it and pull it back to him, but it was just out of his reach.
He strained again, missing it by a centimeter. He silently grunted, because he was not going to lose his voice forever.

Derek proudly bolted through the forest and the scent of blood was heavy on the wind. It smelled of fear and panic. The wolf side of him revelled in it, breathing in the gloriousness of prey already captured. Derek bared his fangs in a frightening, hungry smile.

His human side realized what was happening and stomped down hard on that joy. He needed to keep his emotions in check.

Derek bounded over a log and reached an old, great tree. A figure with dark stains of blood on his shirt was tied to it and slumped over.

Derek let out a low growl and began to stalk his prey. The figure's head lifted.

His mouth moved in nothingness and he shrugged his shoulders, indicating the tight ropes. Derek realized that the figure was Stiles. Stiles was pale, shivering, and apparently couldn't speak because the Stiles Derek knew could jabber the ear off a parrot.

Still, he kept stalking his prey, circling the tree. His human side shouted that this was wrong and Stiles was his friend, and hadn't he originally followed the scent of blood to save someone? His wolf side only yowled in approval and bayed for more.

Stiles' face was panicked now and he shouted something in silence.

Derek stopped short. How often had he seen Stiles' face in such a panic? How many times had he had to rescue him from some monster?

His rage took over him again. It was a mindless rage, angry at everything. He was angry at the wind for howling so loudly and he was angry at Stiles for not talking and shouting for help. He was angry at the tree for being so large and he was angry at the ropes for hurting Stiles. He was angry at himself for being so out of control and dangerous, but he couldn't stop. He was so filled with anger and ferocity that he had to howl again, tilting his body up at the moon. The moon glared down at him with a silver blinding glare, and Derek howled defiantly at it again.

He howled and howled until he couldn't anymore and his voice was hoarse and torn up.

Then he turned his menacing stare at Stiles who looked confused. Stiles realized what was happening and began shaking his head frantically, mouthing something.

Derek tilted his head to the side in confusion. The wolf was almost in total control, so he couldn't carry out basic functions like reading lips. With this brief period of calm, the human told the wolf Stiles was saying 'No, no please.'

Derek darted right up to Stiles. Stiles' face was terrified. The wolf agreed with the human and the anger seeped right out until Derek was concerned instead of angry.

He swiped at the ropes constraining Stiles and Stiles fell to the ground. Derek helped him up, frowning at the chilliness of his skin.

Stiles fell into Derek and pressed his face into Derek's shoulder. He was too cold to be healthy. Derek relaxed and shifted back, once more in control of his own body.

Stiles abruptly pulled back and began rustling through the leaves on the ground. He desperately fumbled through the broken branches and dirt, lifting tiny chunks of wood and rock up and discarding them.

Stiles did something strange and swallowed one of them.

Derek watched in horror as Stiles began choking.

Then, Stiles sat back and opened his mouth.

"Thanks Derek," he said, teeth chattering, and immediately swooned.

Derek caught him and carried the icicle of a teenager all the way back to his loft. He pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead and wrapped him in blankets next to the heater.

Stiles was warm.

- the Little Doctor