Warning: implications of rape and torture ahead. It's nothing too graphic but it's there.

He'd never meant for it to go this far.

He really, honest to god hadn't. Like, okay, it's not like he'd expected a long life, but he'd at least hoped he'd have gotten the hell away from Beacon Hills before they found him.

Because no matter what the hunters will have you believe, he is absolutely, completely, one hundred percent capable of love. He is capable of enough love that he can split it between a whole pack of werewolves and at least three humans, and still have enough left over to catch the bugs in his house and put them back outside instead of just squishing them into disgusting, insect flavored jelly.

Because he loves his pack and his father and honestly just has a soft spot for all of Beacon Hills, and if anyone got hurt because a few hard headed jackasses were set on killing him, he doesn't know if he could live with himself (figuratively speaking, of course. He would die either way).

But they found him. They found him and they told Chris Argent (and Stiles honestly can't help the bitter laugh that escapes him once he discovers this. He's always had a hunch that Argent would be partly to blame for his downfall, and his hunches are rarely wrong), who in turn told Allison, and Stiles likes to think that it took a lot of manipulation and convincing to get Allison to believe that he's a soulless monster who only exists to wreak havoc everywhere he goes and bathe in the blood of innocents.

(This is what he likes to think. The darker, not human half of him is totally convinced the bitch was looking for an excuse to kill him anyway, but the human half is the one in control right now and this is what the human half likes to think.)

None of that matters, anyhow, because here he is now, about to die. They've even brought the entire pack, tied them to chairs with chains laced with wolfsbane (and honestly, how cliche is that?). They're going to make his pack discover what he truly is like this and then force them to watch as he's most likely tortured within an inch of his life, and then murdered (he only feels a little bad when he thinks that they'll probably be glad to see him gone once they know about his demonhood).

He's been tied to this chair for the better half of the day - and honestly, they didn't even try to bind him more permanently to the chair. He would almost be offended if it weren't for the sigils above and below him, guaranteeing that no matter what he does to the dainty rope restraining him, he won't escape - and the pack has finally woken up from being unconscious (mostly. The only one still out is Lydia, which he's actually pretty thankful for. Of all the people in the world he loves, for some reason Lydia is the one he can't stand the thought of seeing him like this). They are looking quite confused, glancing between him (sitting in the middle of old warehouse) and the hunters leaning nonchalantly against the walls. Allison's and Mr. Argent's presence definitely does not go unnoticed.

The silence is unbearable. The looks of confusion and... suspicion are unbearable, so Stiles does what he does best when nervous and terrified for his life. He talks.

"Hey guys. I see you've, uh, joined the party." He laughs nervously. "It's not a very good party, though. There isn't any punch or anything!"

"Ah, I see you've finally decided to speak up," One of the hunters says. He is quite large, and it is with a plummeting heart that Stiles recognizes him as the creepy man he'd seen in the grocery store the day before his mother went missing.

"What is going on Stiles." It's Derek who speaks next. The question is not so much a question as a growl.

"Why is Stiles chained up in the middle of the room? What do you want with him? He's not a werewolf!" Scott's voice is radiating confusion, and an obvious frustration at that confusion.

The hunter only laughs.

"He hasn't told you? I can't say I'm surprised. I would hide it too, if I were him."

"Hide what?" Scott asks, eyes filled with worry. "Stiles?" The second part is directed at him, so many unspoken questions jam packed into it. Everyone else is staring at him in confusion. Derek already looks like he doesn't trust him. Stiles can't look any of them in the eye.

"Scott..." he starts, but he can't find it in him to finish. He's always been a coward, now is not the time to start pretending otherwise.

"What? You can't tell them? Too coward?" The hunter sighs. "Maybe I ought to tell them for you, or rather... show them." He picks up a knife from a table covered in weapons, and caresses it before quickly striding up to Stiles and making a clean, shallow slice across his cheek. Stiles gasps (being a demon does not keep him from feeling pain, after all), but he manages to stay in control. Still, he can't look at any of the pack.

To his horror, Lydia is starting to wake up.

"Hm. Not enough, huh?" He makes another cut, this time much deeper, across Stiles's other cheek, but the boy manages to control his breathing, to keep his dark side locked away. "I see you've got a resistance to a bit of physical pain, and I'm not ready to bring out the big guns yet. Not while the mutts still think you deserve to live. Perhaps some emotional pain will do the trick?" The hunter is smirking at Stiles.

"I knew your mom, you know. Before... you-know-what happened. We were friends, even. She gave me information for my hunts, I never asked how she knew the things she knew. Always assumed that she was another hunter. I'm sure you can imagine, my shock, my DISGUST, at finding out what she really was." Stiles starts crying, he can't help it. The mention of his mom is almost enough to push him completely over the edge, but he will fight until he's got nothing left, just like his parents taught him. He still closes his eyes, though, just in case.

"I, of course, never told her I KNEW. It didn't take much to track her down. She thought her secret was well hidden. I wonder if your father knew what his little whore really was?"

Stiles can hear the pack growling, fighting against their restraints, but he keeps his eyes closed. He can't risk looking at them. He takes a deep, shuddery breath and says in a small voice, "He knew..."

"What was that?" The hunter asks, grinning.

"He knew. He knew and he still loved her. And when I was born he loved me too. And my mother and I both loved him back with all of our hearts."

The hunter spits at him. "Hearts? Like you have a heart. I notice the past tense. Accepted your fate, have you?"

His eyes are still closed, though he's managing a solid enough grip on reality to not let the dark side take over. "I accepted it a long time ago. As soon as my mom died. As soon as my dad sat me down and explained to me what really happened. I knew this was coming, and I knew it'd probably be you who would kill me. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. Hoped I would be out of Beacon Hills, away from my friends and family." He opens his eyes now, and looks up at the hunter. He begs.

"Please, let them go. They have nothing to do with this, nothing to do with me. They know nothing, they serve no purpose here except as more possible loose ends you'll have to tie which will just make your life even harder. Let them go. Do whatever you want with me, just let them go." The hunter stares at him for a second before letting out a loud bark of laughter.

"Really? 'Let them go'? How pathetic is that? ... Your mom made a similar request seven years ago, in the very same spot you are. 'Please, please! Leave him be, leave my little Genim alone! I'll do anything you want, just please don't hurt him!' And she did do EVERYTHING I wanted. You should have heard her screams, seen her face as the life was slowly taken from her and she was sent back to hell where she belongs. I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it, though, the filthy little bitch she was." And that's it. Stiles snaps. He feels the human in him reside, letting the darkness take over. His eyes black out and he lets out a pained roar. He can hear the intakes of breath, the gasps of fear from his pack, but he can't even find it in himself to care.

"You do not speak about my mother like that. She was ten times the human you've ever been. She never hurt a single soul in her life. All she did to warrant your attack was EXIST."

The hunter leans in really close and whispers, "That's enough."

"I will tear you apart, limb from limb. I will cut off your dick and feed it to you. I will torture you till you can't even feel pain anymore. And when I'm done, I'll cut off your head and send it to your family." He catches a glimpse of the pack. They all look terrified, disgusted. It shouldn't hurt so much, he was expecting such reactions for god's sake, but it does anyway. Stiles has always been too emotional for his own good.

To be honest, Stiles isn't even sure he could do any of that. He relishes in the thought of it, in the images it produces in his head, but he just can't imagine causing such pain. If he did, it would make him as low as the bastard standing in front of him. His mother raised him better than that. He keeps up the evil, bloodthirsty facade, though. Partly because it IS nice to let this side of him out in the open (even if he could never be so brutal in actuality) and partly because he needs to establish to the pack that he is not worth saving, he is not worth loving, he is a soulless monster. The kind of thing they would normally be trying to stop.

"What happened to you going quietly?"

"Sigh. I'm not stupid. I still will. There's no point in fighting, I realize, but making empty threats is incredibly therapeutic." He grins at the hunter, though it's more like baring his teeth than anything. "I'll probably enjoy the torture, honestly. I'll definitely keep in mind your techniques when it's my turn to deal out the torture sessions down in hell."

"Wow. You're really laying it on thick, now. What about your precious pack? I thought you didn't want them from knowing you as the abomination you are?"

"Maybe it was an act," Stiles says, voice deadly calm, ice pouring out if his every word. "Maybe I don't care about them at all. Maybe all I really want to do is rip Derek's throat out. I wonder how that would work? Would the alpha power transfer to me? That would be cool. I could pit the rest of the pups against one another, watch as they're forced to kill each other. I'd save Scott, though. I've been wanting to beat the shit out of that bastard for years. Maybe I'd make Allison watch. She is, after all, part of the reason I'm here. It'd only be fair to give her special treatment." He looks directly at Allison, now, putting as much hatred and menace into his stare as possible. "How long did it take you to decide I had to die? Huh? Couple minutes? Couple hours, at most? Did they tell you about my mother? Did they tell you about all of the innocent people before her who just happened to be demons? You know how we knew she was murdered? A couple days after she went missing, we got a package in the mail. A big box from an anonymous sender. We figured it was a ransom note. It was her head."

Allison chokes out a sob at this. "Stiles, I..."

"Well you're lucky I'm a demon then, huh? Lucky I don't feel human emotions? Don't love? Is that what they told you? I bet they told you I stole this body from some poor, innocent little kid. They were wrong about that part. They weren't wrong, however, about the emotion thing." He laughs humorlessly.

"That's a lie." The voice is gruff, and of all people, Stiles really didn't expect it to be DEREK who speaks up.

"Oh? How do you know?"

"You're still Stiles."

"Yes, well, perhaps Stiles has just been pretending this whole time. Perhaps Stiles thought it funny how easily it was to fool the big bad wolves."

The hunter sighs. "Okay, okay. Enough chit chat. I'm getting bored. Here's the thing, bitch. I'll give you a choice. All of your little friends will be set free and I'll never bother them again, and you die a very slow and painful death, or you go free and your friends take your place."

He's about to stop pretending he doesn't care about the people he clearly loves the most, about to sacrifice himself when, to his horror, eight people (including Allison? He honestly wasn't expecting that) start yelling at him to let them take his place and he just. What?

"ARE YOU GUYS IDIOTS?" he shouts, the demon in him leaking a bit into his voice so that it shakes the whole building, promises of very dark things in its wake. "I'm a demon! From hell! Child of Satan! Okay, well, I've never actually been to hell and I'm pretty sure Satan isn't actually real, but still! My eyes are naturally completely blacked out, I have fangs! And claws! And we're not even gonna go into the wings! Why the FUCK would you want to sacrifice yourselves for me?"

"Because we love you Stiles. As much as you love us. And I don't think anyone here other than you really knew your mom but me, but she was pretty cool. And she made the best cookies ever. Demon or not, I miss her constantly. She was like a second mom to me. And I know that that constant achy feeling of missing someone who's gone forever will increase one hundred percent if you're the one I lose, and I'd rather die than have to deal with that." And, okay, yeah, maybe Stiles is crying. Just a little.

"That's sweet, it really is," The hunter begins. "But your time for decision making is up. I guess I'm gonna have to kill you all. And take my sweet time doing so."

He raises his knife to create the first gash in Stiles's chest, when the doors to the entrance of the warehouse open with a loud bang, and there's the sheriff, wearing a kevlar and brandishing a gun.

There is no pause. No dramatic effect. No slow motion running at each other, like in movies. The sheriff just shoots the hunter and that's that. He, of course, shoots him in the stomach, so that there's still enough left in him that the sheriff can walk up and stomp on the wound. "That's for my wife, you son of a bitch."

The hunter's dead. There's deafening silence, followed by woots of triumph from the pack. Allison is there by Stiles's side, making a mark in the sigils so that they're broken, apologizing profusely, and of course Stiles forgives her. It's Allison.

Chris Argent is nowhere to be seen.

They get the werewolves untied (Stiles rips out of his restraints easily. No use in feigning human weakness any more). There's a long moment of awkward silence. Stiles knows everyone's looking at him, trying to figure out what to say, trying to act like nothing's wrong.

His eyes are still black as night.

"So, I take it they know, huh?" It's the sheriff who breaks the silence first. Stiles just nods. He can't bring himself to look at any of his friends (ex friends, more like. Scott's speech was sweet and all, but Stiles seriously doubts he'll be so forgiving now that the threat of being tortured to death has subsided), so he stares at his dad. The sheriff holds his arms out, and Stiles walks into them gratefully, hugging his father with all of his might (or, at least, as much might as he can put into it without injuring the man).

He doesn't even remove his face from his dad's neck as he hears the man stare down the pack and say, "If you even THINK about hurting him in ANY way, I will hunt you down and I will show no mercy, Supernatural being or not." He pats Stiles's back. "Let's go home, son."

The next thing Stiles knows, he's being led to the police cruiser, making a weak attempt to stifle the sobs, but they're coming in waves and eventually he just gives up.

He's glad for a lot of things right now but, priorities be damned, he's mostly glad he doesn't have to try to be human around his dad.

They're sitting on the couch, talking about... a lot of things. Stiles knows that Derek is outside their house, that he followed them home and has been there since before their conversation started. Maybe the whole pack is outside. He thinks this should make him angry. He can't find it in himself to care.

"How did you know I was there?" Stiles asks, confusion laced into the question.

"It..." The sheriff sighs. "I don't know if you remember, and if not then it's understandable but, son, it's the anniversary of the day your mother went missing." Stiles feels his breath leave him and all the color drain from his face.

"... Oh."

"Mary taught me things, lots of things. Things I'm sure even your pack doesn't know. As soon as she told me that she wasn't human and I accepted it, and I still loved her, she started teaching me things." The mention of his mother makes Stiles sigh and close his eyes. He remembers his parents being so in love with each other. Nothing could separate them. The few times he allowed himself to consider the actual possibility of falling in love with someone who would love him back, he had leaned on the fact that his dad still loved his mom to keep the thoughts of no one falling in love with him because of what he is at bay.

"... How did she tell you? How did you react at first? I just..." He's not sure how to finish.

"You're just what? Not sure how anyone could love such a monster?" Stiles buries his face in his hands, letting the silence speak for itself. "She told me when I proposed. I'll admit, it was a lot to handle at first, but I loved her so much. I couldn't let her go, even if she was a demon." The sheriff puts an arm around his son. "I'm sure they'll come around, kid. If they don't then they don't deserve to be your friends, anyway."

"I'm... I'm not sure, dad. I said some not nice things. I didn't mean any of it, of course, but it was still scary. I saw their faces. They looked terrified and disgusted at my existence." His dad sighs.

"At least tell me some of these not nice things were directed at that hunter?"

Stiles grins at this, he can't help it. "Oh, yeah. I told him exactly what I would do to him if I got out of my restraints. It felt nice. But it scared the pack even more..." He trails off into silence, but despite the weight of what he's just said, despite the very large possibility of losing all of his friends, with his dad sitting next to him, it feels comfortable.

Stiles hasn't let the dark side of him loose so much in a long time, and it feels good. He doesn't want to take back his claws, his fangs, his black eyes. Not yet. He hasn't even gotten to let his wings loose. But there's something stopping him from asking his dad if he can stay that way a little longer, and once he opens his mouth because he thinks he's finally gotten past it, he just can't phrase the question correctly. He sighs. "I think I'm gonna go to bed, dad."

"Hm? Okay. Goodnight, kid." Stiles gets up to leave, when suddenly the sheriff says, "Oh, and, kid? You can let your wings out. I don't mind. After so many years with your mother? I've grown fond of the demon look." Stiles doesn't turn around, but he does let his wings out, and he's sure his dad can tell how thankful he is. "And if you're gonna practice that telekinesis stuff, you could at least clean your room while you're at it!"

Stiles just might have the best dad ever.

It's almost miraculous, how letting his true self out for a bit, letting his wings flutter around and using his real eyes to see things so much clearer, in a way that with human eyes he never could, seems to make everything okay. He's stopped even bothering just doing things with his hands, because he hasn't used his mind to move and control things in so long and it feels so good. He can't help the laugh of glee as the clothes strewn across his floor all hang themselves up in his closet, as his bed is made with a thought, as his room is on its way to looking spotless while he just sits in his computer chair and hums the tune to some Top 40 song he heard on the radio a few days ago.

This is, of course, the moment the resident alpha decides to climb in through his window. Stiles drops all of his work in shock, but he doesn't hide his wings or eyes (or teeth or claws). If Derek doesn't like him anymore, then him pretending to be human won't change that, and it feels so good to let go of the disguise for a while.

The werewolf just stands there, staring at him, and it's really starting to creep Stiles out so he decides to break the ice. "Hi...?" It's not very eloquent, but it seems to do the trick, because suddenly Derek is striding up to him. He even goes as far as to tug Stiles out of his chair so he can slam the younger boy into the wall.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Something about the way he says it makes it sound more like why didn't you tell me?

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey guys, by the way, I'm a demon'? I'm sure that would have gone smoothly." Derek seems to consider this, and Stiles knows he agrees, even if he won't voice that agreement. "Now could you ease up a bit? My wings are starting to hurt." Derek just growls and presses him harder against the wall.

Stiles does the first thing that comes to his mind. He forces Derek off him (and if he does it partly in hopes that it'll convince Derek that he's dangerous and he shouldn't be around the pack, no one needs to know). The man hits the opposite wall with a thud, and he looks surprised and angry, and like he's planning on just walking back to Stiles and pushing him against the wall again, but with the help of his wings, Stiles is there before Derek can even move, pushing HIM against the wall.

He decides that it's much nicer to be on the other side of this scenario for once. He can feel Derek's pecs through the tight fabric of his shirt, and, this may be the last chance he has, so you can bet your sweet ass he's gonna enjoy it.

"Perhaps you've forgotten," Stiles hisses, black eyes narrowing. "I'm not human. And I don't need to pretend to be anymore, so I'm not going to. You cannot expect to scare me into submission. I could kill you right now without breaking a sweat."

Derek just... rolls his eyes? "You're not going to."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"You're still Stiles, and Stiles wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was absolutely necessary. And you're still part of my pack, I'm still the alpha. You may not be tied to me like the other wolves, but you still wouldn't defy me unless you really think it's a good idea."

"You really think you know me? Then how did I manage to hide this for so long? Maybe you know nothing about me." He lets a bit of his darkness seep into his words, and he knows it has an affect on Derek, no matter how much the alpha tries to hide it.

In that moment, Derek Hale is afraid of Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles thinks it should make him happy, considering all of the times their roles have reversed and he's had to deal with a fear of the alpha, but mostly he's just overwhelmed with sadness. He had hoped that maybe Derek wouldn't be affected by his demonhood. Perhaps his hopes were a little too high.

"You can say it, you know. I'm a monster. You don't want me to go anywhere near the Hale pack again. It's fine." Pause. "You could also say that you don't mind the fact that I have claws and fangs and black eyes. That I have black, leathery, spiny wings that insist on fluttering about even when I don't want them to. I don't know why they do that, by the way. My mom's wings never did. That's not the point though. You could say you don't mind, that you want me in the pack, but you won't. Because you're scared. You're disgusted, as well. It's okay, I would be too." Derek just glares at him. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you still view me as the hyperactive teen that loves curly fries a little too much, not some supernatural threat that you feel you need to protect your pack from."

Derek just stands there, glaring at him, silent as ever, and Stiles thinks that the rejection shouldn't hurt this much. He's never been good enough for Derek, for the pack. At first because he was too human for them, now because he's too demon, too DARK, for them. He'd been expecting this. It shouldn't hurt this much. But it does.

Stiles sighs and backs away. He's looking at the wall beside Derek's head. He can't bare to look at the werewolf himself. "You can go. I won't bother you guys, I promise. I'll probably just go back to what I did before I had you guys, before anyone but my dad knew. Just sit in my mom's closet and go through her box of supernatural related stuff. I don't mind. It's kind of fun, actually."

He goes to walk away when suddenly a hand is grabbing his arm and he is being pulled back and Derek's kissing him and what? It takes about half a second for Stiles to overcome his shock and return the kiss, before he realizes his fangs are still out and he really doesn't want to bite Derek's face off. He frantically pulls them back in so that his boring, dull, human teeth are exposed.

He can feel his wings freaking out and suddenly flapping backward, pushing him into Derek so that bodies are slotted together. Stiles slips his hands into Derek's hair and his tongue into Derek's mouth and Derek moans, which is one of the best sounds Stiles has ever heard. Suddenly, though, he realizes what they're doing, and he throws himself backward, away from Derek - only barely managing to not land on his ass. This shouldn't be happening. Derek is supposed to hate him, not make out with him. Stiles decides to voice this concern out loud.

"What... what was that? You're supposed to hate me. You're supposed to be disgusted by my appearance, you're supposed to call me devil spawn and create a salt barrier around your house so that I can't get in." Derek raises an eyebrow.

"Stiles, I almost lost you tonight. I don't know what I would have done if your dad didn't show up. I don't care what you are or how you look, having to live with your death, knowing I'd never have the chance to do that... it's too much." Derek's advancing on Stiles, and there's something playful about his expression. "Plus, I like the whole demon look. It's kind of hot."

Stiles swallows. "Really? You... don't mind?"

"No, Derek says. "I'm a werewolf, how hypocritical would it be of me to push you away because you're not human?" He's close enough to Stiles now that he can wrap his arms around the boy and lean in close, mouth hovering just above the junction between Stiles's neck and shoulder. "The rest of the pack doesn't mind either." He licks up Stiles's neck and then latches onto a particular spot that makes Stiles shudder, his wings wrapping around the werewolf.

"O-oh. You know I didn't mean any of what I said about you guys in the warehouse, right? Well, I mean, I could do all of that if I really wanted to, but I don't want to. Yeah, that's what I mean." He lets out a little gasp at the things Derek is doing with his tongue. Honestly, it should be illegal.

"Okay, no need to answer," Stiles says. "You can just keep doing that. Forever. I really don't mind." He shivers again, and Derek lets out a quiet huff of laughter.

He finds himself being pushed gently to the bed. This is most definitely something he's okay with.

They sit on the edge of his bed and Derek finds his mouth again, lapping into it, exploring with his tongue. Just when Stiles thinks they're gonna go further, it stops.

They're both breathing heavily, and Stiles can't stop himself from saying, "This better not be a one time thing." Derek rolls his eyes, but his face falls back into a serious expression immediately.

"Could I..." the alpha starts. "Would you answer some questions I have?" Stiles raises an eyebrow. He knew this would be coming eventually.

"Uh. I guess. Shoot."

You said something earlier about your mom having stuff about supernatural things? Could you... specify?"

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Yeah. It's just, like, some old books about mastering the different powers that come with being a demon. Leather bound and everything. There's also some old spices and dried herbs. She was really into magic."

"What... powers come with being a demon?"

"Well, obviously we can fly. I can sort of... control things with my mind? There's a lot of stuff on harnessing the 'darkness within'," he makes air quotes at this. "Keeping a sort of humanity and controlling the darkness instead of letting it control you. I think I have an easier time with this than most since my dad's a human." Derek nods again.

"I... have to go, and you should probably get some rest. I need to prepare the pack for our next meeting so they don't freak out when you arrive looking you do naturally." Stiles looks confused at thi, and Derek sighs. "I want you in the pack. I want you with us, with ME. And I don't want you to have to pretend to be something or not for that to happen. If they have a problem with that, then that's on them to work out by themselves. I'll see you later. This conversation isn't over either."

Stiles seems to think about it for a minute before nodding. "The kissing better not be over, either." Derek leans down and gives him a peck on the lips as a way to show that it isn't, before jumping out the window.

It's gonna take a while to figure everything out, and he has a LOT of explaining to do, but... Stiles thinks this just might turn out okay.