Fighting through the agonizing pain, the sting of open flesh and buckets of sweat running down his skin, Derek struggled to protect his mate. It had been unexpected, a turn of events neither of them had ever anticipated, but through endless resistance and reluctance on both parts, they had fallen in love. All that meant now was that his desire to keep the boy safe was greater than it had ever been before.
Stiles was still human, still easy to maim or kill, as fragile as ever, only now the wolf feared any harm coming to him more than he could fathom. It was like an irrational fear, only in this instance it was a very real possibility. That fact alone had him fighting harder than ever before, letting lose the wolf within to protect his human.
They were an unlikely pair, one Scott and Allison had proven might have been wrong, too difficult to survive, but it was too late now. Derek had named Stiles his mate inside his heart, he'd bonded himself to the boy, making it impossible to resist his feelings any longer. Though Stiles might not feel the same pull that the Alpha was indentured to, there was still an undeniable bond between the two that both parties were subject to.
Snarling, fangs gnashing and claws tearing at flesh, striking bone, Derek struggled to free himself from the grip of the other two Alphas. Watching through shaking beams and a spinning room, he caught fragments of glimpses of the boy fending off his attackers, warding them off with whatever makeshift weapon he'd managed to get hold of. "NO!" he billowed, though it came out as nothing more than a resonating howl.
They had found his weakness, he'd left himself open to their attack by letting his guard down to that boy, and now they were threatening him with his life. Every ounce of remorse and guilt he'd let fall away, the torment he'd felt over his family being killed, he'd sacrificed to love that human, and he would not let him be taken from him like everything else had. He wouldn't go down without a fight, and would rather sacrifice himself than see Stiles get hurt.
Jaws clenched around his shoulder, pinning him to the ground, and he lost sight of his mate. The sound of the boy's struggle could still be heard, but Derek began to fear the worst; that if he could not see him, he couldn't save him.
Finally he heard the boy cry out, either scared or wounded, it didn't matter. The sound was enough to throw the wolf over the edge. With everything in him he struggled against the agony the other Alpha had him in, and pushed his way back to his feet.
Throwing the Alpha from him, Derek turned quickly and struck his giant hand across the beast's face, tossing its head about like a doll's. The two stood, snarling at one another, before crashing together in a furious collision of power and feral rage. Blood shot everywhere, as the second Alpha joined the fray once again.
It took all the strength Derek had to break the Alpha's jaw, but as he hooked his fingers into its snout, he managed to pull, tearing the top of its head from the rest of its body. Terrified, the other Alpha sprang from Derek's back, running for its life.
Finally free, Derek turned his attentions to the boy crying off in the other room, fighting for his life. He bounded forth, still in his full werewolf form, and lunged for the larger Alpha, tackling it to the ground.
Stiles stood, broken pipe in hand, waving it about, trying to protect himself, only to tremble and drop his weapon as he watched his lover jump into view. Fur, blood, and skin flew everywhere, chunks of muscle and fat were thrown about, spattering him with much of the arteriole spray that came from one of the wolves. Terrified, he watched the two mounds of fur die down, laying motionless before him.
Gradually they transformed, both turning to their human forms, as they both struggled and clambered to their feet. Derek stood lurched over, holding the gaping wound in his side, as the other Alpha sprang on him with what energy he had left. Both were mangled beyond most recognition, but Stiles knew which Derek was, he knew his body better than anyone.
Eyes wide with terror, he watched as the two thrust themselves through the crumbling all of the burnt shell of a house. Their fight traveled down the hill in a ball of bodies mingled together in a struggle of life or death. One of them would die, and though Stiles tried desperately to follow them, they fell to fast and too far for him to keep up.
Standing atop the steep hill, he looked down in horror, unable to see anything, but heard the snarls and growls grow louder and more wild. There came a howl and then a cry, until everything fell deathly silent.
Waiting on baited breath, Stiles paced, sidestepping along the edge of the ravine, hoping to see something, anything. Instead, his attention was pulled toward the edge of the woods to the other side of the house. A loud growl was heard echoing off the trees, and he swiftly ran toward it.
Met by the image of Peter fighting with his nephew, an image all too familiar to the boy, he watched both Alphas struggle against one another. Derek was hit hard across his face, sending him to his knees, leaving him stunned, too dazed to stand right away.
Taking the opportunity, Peter turned toward Stiles, who's heart was racing with panic, and grinned. That toothy, fang coated smile of deception, the ego and confidence in victory that had been ever present over a year ago, was once again present on the werewolf's chiseled expression. It effectively gripped the boy with fear, alone and helpless as he stood there, watching him grow near.
Peter took his time approaching the boy, his smile only slightly fading. His hand rose and clasped around Stiles' throat, lifting him off his feet, leaving him to struggle against his grip. The human thrashed his legs as his hands dug into the Alpha's, trying to pry them from his neck. To no avail, he hung there, letting his legs dangle for the force of them kicking only strangled him more.
"Still think you're helping the pack?" the wolf purred condescendingly to him.
"No," he choked, "but then again, it was your suggestion that kind of- Okay!"
Knowing that his suggestion to embrace love over anger had planted the seed of weakness within his nephew, Peter only tightened his grip on the boy, suffocating him. "A few more pounds of pressure and I could crush your windpipe." His lips curled in a snide smirk, enjoying the look of torture and fear in the boy's eyes. "If I kill you, Derek dies, did he tell you that? I'm sure you wouldn't have gone so head first into fighting a pack of Alphas if he'd told you that. No, he trusted you to stay back, thought you'd trust him, but no one really does."
"Tha- That's-" Stiles sputtered breathlessly, the spit shooting from his mouth as he tried desperately to speak. But with no air the words were stolen from him, caught in his throat and in his burning lungs.
"What? What's that? Some more pearls of sarcasm to share in the conversation?"
"That's where you're wrong," the boy grumbled, letting the vibrations in his throat give sound to the words his lips formed.
Puzzled, the Alpha looked into the dying boy's eyes, hearing his nephew behind him barely moving as he writhed on the ground. They were dying, both of them, struggling to breathe; Peter was winning. He knew this and looked into the human's eyes to assure him that he was, in fact, going to die.
But the boy wasn't looking at him, he was looking past, over his shoulder, at Derek. Still, even within inches of their lives, they both still fought for each other, still held hope that they'd be together. So weak, so like his sister they both were, who chose to let the flames take her with her husband, rather than flee when she could. Love made them weak, just like he knew it would do to his nephew, which was evident in his dying now.
Stealing his gaze from the wolf behind him, Peter returned his look onto the boy, who now met his eyes directly. There was something there, some sort of cold fury he'd never seen in a human other than hunters, and for a split second, he was scared.
Rightfully so, Stiles had a secret weapon he'd waited to use, waiting for the perfect moment so it wouldn't be wasted. Plunging his fist at the Alpha's stomach, he hit him with little force to have much an effect, but the man still managed to stumble back slightly.
Stunned and confused, Peter looked down at the wound in his side, as his guts began to bleed and spill from his torso. What was this? What had the boy done? Eyes wide, he looked up at Stiles, who had fallen to the ground, struggling for air.
Once more their gazes met, the resolve still held in the human's eyes, and suddenly a grave panic hit Peter's face. "I borrowed one of Allison's arrowheads." That was all that needed to be said, all he needed to know to realize his doom was mere seconds away.
Turning to his nephew, who rose slowly, his eyes glowing red, narrowed and resolute, he begged him silently for mercy. There was no mercy to give, nor was there any guilt left to be had for the man's death. He had betrayed them all, traded one pack for another he believed was stronger, and had endangered the life of Derek's mate. He'd sealed his fate all on his own, now all he had left to do was die.
I single tick sounded before the explosion erupted within the man's body, and nothing could replace the look of shock and disappointment on his face before it went flying through the air. Stiles had seen it, for even a split second, and couldn't help but imagine what it had to feel like to know the moment you were going to die, but didn't feel even slightly sorry for him. Instead, he merely shielded his eyes, too tired to do anything else.
Derek stood motionless, watching his uncle get obliterated, and searched for Stiles' small form in the darkness. The mist of blood cleared and he saw the boy rise, instantly making his heart race.
Stiles turned slowly, brushing the bits of organs from his clothing in vain, until his eyes rose and met with the wolf's. Their eyes locked and instantly they ran for each other, lost in a flurry of relief and panic. They crashed together in the dark, arms wrapped around each other, and lips meshed perfectly in the most eager of kisses.
It was as if they hadn't kissed in years, as if they were sure the other had been dead. Waves of euphoria and a steady ease grew within them as they furiously kissed one another. The fight was over, they were safe, and no matter what Peter had said, their love had only made them stronger, not weaker.