Title: Change You Like a Remix (then raise you like a phoenix)
Author: Traxits
Chapter Rating: Teen.
Chapter Content Notes: Mild sexual content, mild gore (not at the same time).
Chapter Word Count: 4053 words.
(Chapter Two: Bleeding)
"What do you mean you're not on your way back? You promised, Derek. You said you were just going for that and to keep Laura from being crazy, and then you guys would be back. Then you said soon as you finished up, you know, your whole... spiral thing, you'd be back."
Derek leaned back against his car, his head tilted to one side as he watched the windows of the school. Leia's hesitation was all he needed to picture her with the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder so that her fingers were free to make air quotes around the word. A grin curved his lips. "Heathen," he said evenly.
"Hey, not one of you so your freaky shit doesn't apply to me," she retorted. "That means I don't gotta pay lip service to it. You know what I pay lip service to?"
Derek snorted. "Oh, I can think of a few things."
"Ew. Don't be nasty. Not when you're way out there in California, being all hot and… California boy and I'm stuck here, alone and babysitting your sub-leaser."
There was a pause, presumably while she checked around herself to make sure that said tenant wasn't in the foyer. That meant she was painting, and Derek smiled slightly at the thought. She'd been so insistent that she wasn't going to paint a single thing while he was gone.
"By the way? Next time you sublease, I am sitting in on your interviews. This guy is totally unacceptable."
His attention snapped sharply away from the humdrum of school activity back to her. "Has he messed with you?" he asked, and he could hear the faint growl in his voice at the thought. He'd been so careful, screening the idiots who had applied for his sublease.
She laughed, and his temper flared for just a second at the thought that maybe she was playing him. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and it slowly started to cool again, just as she replied with, "Much as I want to say 'yes' just to get your pretty ass home, no. I don't even think he realizes I live downstairs. Sad state of life, being ignored like that. I mean— Hey, you bastard, you did that on purpose, didn't you? Went and got a gay tenant just—"
"To keep you focused on your studies?" Derek said, and his smile widened just a little. He could hear one of the teachers scolding Stilinski, and his ears pricked at the low chuckle that followed it. His smile sharpened into a grin that he seemed to only ever get around that pretty little idiot who had begged him for the bite.
My alpha, Jackson had said, and Derek had rewarded him for that. He had taken one look at Jackson and known how to play him, how to get exactly what Derek wanted out of him. Jackson might not think he was leader material, might think he was outside of the pack, but he belonged to Derek. He had a spot there right beside Isaac, and even better, there was something special about the thought of Jackson.
Derek's first wolf.
He wanted to play with Jackson all over again.
"You're not even listening to me! Geez, Derek, what the hell is out there in California that you're this distracted? Ooh, is it a girl? Or a boy. Whatever floats your boat—"
Derek's attention came back to Leia, and he snorted in the phone at her. "Hardly. I have things to do."
"Making new friends?" She was laughing all over again at him, but he didn't mind so much. She had a nice laugh, low and throaty, and he liked hearing it. "Literally 'making' new friends, I bet. With Laura—"
"Yeah." He shifted against the car, and his attention snapped back to the school, to the window he was watching. He heard Jackson asking to be excused, and while he might normally not give a shit that Jackson felt like cutting class, what had his interest was the panic he heard there in Jackson's voice. His eyes narrowed, and it took all of his concentration to filter out what he was listening to in order to follow Jackson's progress through the school.
He hung up the phone— Leia was in mid-word, but she was used to this from him, from Laura, hell, from the whole damn pack— and he headed into the school. He ignored everything around him, shooting glares at anyone who dared get in his way, and he went straight into the bathroom Jackson had ducked into. He could hear Jackson's breathing, gasping and sharp, and more than that, he could smell the panic.
He knocked on the stall, and he had to close his eyes and brace himself, keep from laughing when Jackson called out, "I'm fine, Danny, go back to class!"
Idiot wasn't using what Derek gave him. One good deep breath would have told him that it wasn't Danny standing outside the stall. Then Derek's amusement faded, and he drew a deep breath. Unless whatever was wrong meant that Jackson was unable to smell him, and more than that, Derek could smell blood, but it smelled... wrong. Muted somehow.
He damn near ripped the door off the hinges, and he hauled Jackson out of the stall, baring his teeth automatically at the way Jackson tensed up at him. "Jackson," he said, and his voice was low. Jackson wouldn't hear the way Derek was barely leashing his temper at the idea that one of his wolves— his first wolf— wouldn't have immediately came to him the moment he was scared.
Then again, it was likely irrational to expect that of him. It wasn't like Jackson was born a wolf, wasn't like he had even figured out how to let Derek know when something was wrong. Knowing that didn't stop Derek from being pissed though.
"You doing okay?"
Jackson stared up at him, wide-eyed, and damn, he always had such a panicked look on his face. Like a deer in the headlights of a car it knew full well that it couldn't avoid. Derek crowded him, stepping in close, and Jackson automatically stepped back before he made himself hold his ground, his hand reaching back to brace himself against the sink.
The feel of something solid under him must have bolstered his courage, because then Jackson was baring his teeth right back, and Derek could feel another smile touching his mouth.
He seemed to be incapable of keeping a straight face in front of Jackson, in front of someone who amused him this much.
"Derek. Fuck off. I don't need you—"
"You're not alone now," Derek reminded him, and with Jackson bracing himself, he could get even closer, right in Jackson's space, close enough that touching him would be all too easy. He kept his hands in his jacket pockets; he wanted Jackson to reach for him first. He could have that, and when he got that from Jackson, it would be the first of Jackson submitting to him, giving in to the instincts that Jackson already had running through his head.
(Truthfully, it was probably the first reason Derek had actually considered giving Jackson the bite. Jackson was already starving for someone to give his life direction, to tell him he was good enough, tell him where he needed to improve and what he needed to fix. He needed a place to belong, and there was no where quite like a pack to give someone that.)
"And if something's wrong," he continued, working to keep his voice steady and even, "then I need to know."
"I am not in your pack," Jackson said again, snarling and the only thing that kept him from jerking away from Derek was the fact that they both knew that was as much yielding as anything else would be. He twitched though, and Derek wanted to get his fingers on the back of Jackson's neck, feel those scars he'd never intended to put there. "And nothing's changed from the other night. You're still a shit leader, and you came back smelling like someone else—"
Derek's eyebrows shot up at that, and his smile widened into a sharp grin that was little more than too-sharp teeth. "You didn't like the smell of your packmate?" he asked, because the first time he'd asked that, Jackson hadn't answered him. Jackson twitched again, and he looked away from Derek, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
But Derek couldn't focus on that expression, sweet as it was. His eyes were locked on Jackson's ear. Fluid was leaking out of it, and Jackson obviously couldn't feel it, and Derek reached up, his fingers heavy on Jackson's jaw as he turned his head to look at it more clearly. Blood and some kind of black goo, and there was that smell, something muting the heavy metallic scent of the blood. Earthy and it made Derek's skin crawl, because it was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Jackson caught sight of himself in the mirror though, and he gasped, his eyes widening again, and when he looked back at Derek, there was nothing but genuine fear in his face. "What's going on?"
Derek swallowed, and for a second, he stayed quiet, then he finally managed a low, "Your body is fighting the bite."
His first wolf, and he was going to be Derek's first death? There was something wrong with Derek maybe, the alpha hadn't taken the way it should, and no, he'd already bitten Isaac only...
Was Isaac doing this too? Was he already dead in a pool of black somewhere?
(She was dead, her dark hair hair wet and slick, muddy with the black fluid that leaked from her eyes and nose and ears and mouth, but there was blood around her mouth, flecked in and puddling over the black that was too thick to really mix with it. The blood wasn't from the way the bite— red and livid and angry on her shoulder, glistening and still oozing black— had killed her, but was instead from the way she'd been screaming. And he hadn't been able to help her, hadn't been able to do anything but watch and admit defeat and eventually kill her. Her throat was ragged, open and gaping and black, and he couldn't stop crying. His own throat ached, and the screaming wouldn't stop.)
"Why is it doing that?"
The naked fear in Jackson's voice pulled Derek back to reality, and he hesitated before he shook his head. "I don't know. ... We need to get you out of here." He wrapped a hand around Jackson's wrist, and Jackson didn't fight him.
Derek liked it when Jackson didn't fight him, but damn if it had to be now, when he couldn't enjoy it. It wasn't until Derek had Jackson in the Camaro that Jackson even seemed to process that they'd left the school. He looked over at Derek, and his lips parted for a second before he finally found words.
"I can't just leave school—"
"You have blood dripping out of your ears and nose," Derek countered, and he reached in the back, found an old t-shirt that smelled of sweat and death and shoved it at Jackson. Jackson's nose wrinkled, but he didn't argue as he pressed a piece of the shirt to his ear to try to staunch the bleeding. He didn't press it up against his nose— bleeding pretty heavily, and Derek would bet anything that this whole thing had started as a nosebleed in class— but he tilted his head forward so that he dripped onto the shirt, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"You're not in any shape to sit in class."
"Gonna be missed."
"Better think of an excuse then."
Jackson shot him a dirty look, and damn, he was expressive, managing to do that even with the sweaty t-shirt against his ear and the blood leaking from his nose. "You keep calling yourself an alpha, aren't you supposed to come up with my excuse?"
"Only if I'm your alpha," Derek countered, and Jackson hesitated before he dropped his eyes again. Derek's phone rang, and before he could reach for it there in the middle of the console, Jackson had it. He raised an eyebrow and looked back up at Derek.
"Leia? Cute chick."
Derek didn't so much as hesitate before he reached over and declined her call. Jackson sat there with the phone in hand for another moment, and then he said lowly, "Your girl?"
"Neighbor," Derek said shortly, shrugging.
"You seriously telling me you don't tap that?"
Derek ignored him until Jackson started fidgeting, shifting and sighing before he dropped the phone back down in the middle of the car, and then Derek murmured lowly, "Your alpha. Say it."
"Not my anything," Jackson countered, and he didn't look at Derek as he turned in the seat to face the window a little more. Derek glanced over just to make sure he had his belt on. "Just the idiot dog who bit me."
A muscle jumped in Derek's jaw, but he didn't let himself slam on the brakes. Jackson must have felt something, because he glanced back over at Derek, then right out the window again, swallowing thickly as he pressed the shirt against his ear a little more. They didn't say a thing before they got back to Jackson's place— mostly because Derek didn't exactly have a new safe house yet now that the hunters had burst into the old Hale house— and Jackson got out of the car in a huff.
Derek stopped just outside the door, glancing across the street, and then he followed Jackson inside.
Jackson didn't say anything to him, just stormed up the stairs, and Derek followed him easily enough, his eyes flicking over the rooms they went through. A kitchen that looked like it came out of a magazine, a living room that didn't look lived in, a hallway full of nearly nothing but pictures of them as a family and pictures of Jackson, Jackson in lacrosse gear, at various competitions (not just physical either, and there was an entire line of framed report cards that boasted just how smart Jackson actually was). Derek's throat tightened, and he glanced sharply up at Jackson's back, nearing the top of the stairs.
That wasn't the sort of kid who needed the bite, and Derek wasn't sure what, precisely, he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this.
It had been the desperation in Jackson's face every time he talked about the bite, about getting the power, the strength; when he'd heard that, Derek had assumed... Well. He'd honestly assumed that there was someone Jackson was trying to get power over, strength enough to fight back against. Derek had been looking forward to drawing Jackson into his pack, shielding him and protecting him and teaching him what pack meant.
He headed up the stairs, and he followed Jackson into his room. Jackson disappeared into his bathroom— private bath, and man, what Derek would have given for one of those when he was younger— and Derek headed over to the window, glancing out curiously.
He could get into the room easily enough from the outside if he had to. There were plenty of ledges and trees nearby; he probably wouldn't even be seen. After just a second, he headed over to the bed and he dropped down onto it, his eyes closing as he folded his arms under his head. He could smell Jackson here, nothing but Jackson, if he was honest, and that surprised him too. Given what he'd seen of Jackson, he'd have expected perfume to linger on these sheets, and while there was a vague scent of a girl, it was old and it was definitely only the one girl. Lydia. Derek didn't know her all that well, but he'd scented her several times over the past few weeks, and he'd grown to at least associate the name with the smell.
He listened to Jackson in the bathroom, in the shower, and he could smell the body wash that Jackson opened. His lips quirked in a faint smile as he heard Jackson gagging at the sheer strength of the scent. Doubtless, Jackson would be tossing his entire set of toiletries soon, getting something that didn't make him smell like he just doused himself in that sharp, fake ocean musk that boys his age seemed to like. Then the water cut off, and Jackson came back out with a towel around his waist, and Derek waited until he heard that sharp intake of breath before he cracked an eye open to look at him.
"Hey, hey, man, no shoes on my damn bed!"
Jackson looked better, more color to him, and that settled Derek's stomach in ways he hadn't realized needed to be settled. He held up a hand to motion Jackson over to him. Jackson hesitated, then dropped a hand to his towel before he inched over slowly, like Derek might lunge at him if he moved too fast. Derek wondered if he should point out that he really wanted to lunge with Jackson moving so slowly. It meant that Derek could watch each muscle flexing under his skin, and Derek just wanted to haul him down on the bed and start nipping.
The moment Jackson was in range, Derek did in fact reach for him, and he did haul Jackson down onto the bed with him. He rolled over on top of Jackson, leaning in to sniff the crook of his shoulder, nose brushing against Jackson's skin before he moved to scent along Jackson's ears and then back down his skin over his shoulder and chest. Jackson went perfectly still under him, no fight like Derek had honestly expected, and Derek glanced up at him, a very slight smile tugging on his mouth before he focused on what he was doing.
"You smell better," he finally said, and Derek could feel Jackson letting go of the breath he'd been holding.
"What did you mean, my body's fighting the bite? There's a full moon in just a few days—"
"I know," Derek said softly, and he leaned forward, touching his forehead to Jackson's stomach. He could feel Jackson breathing like this, could smell the water against his skin. Jackson had apparently decided against his body wash, and that was so much better because Derek could smell *him* under the water there. He licked the little dip in between Jackson's abs, and he felt Jackson stiffen under him before Jackson's hands found Derek's shoulders. They didn't push Derek away though, just curved there, holding on, and Derek tipped his head to look up at Jackson.
Eyes closed and bottom lip in his teeth, and all Derek wanted to do was spread him open and take, get that desperate little voice again, get Jackson calling Derek his alpha again. Derek liked hearing that. He liked the reminder that it was his turn now, that he was going to be the one calling the shots and no one else was going to get in his way. Not Scott, not the Argents, not any of them.
He licked Jackson's skin again, and then he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders and glanced out the window. "You should probably sleep," he finally said, and Jackson stayed where he was, shivering. Derek didn't look back at him, but he was fairly certain Jackson was staring up at Derek.
"Sleep? It's the middle of the day. What am I supposed to tell everybody?"
Derek slid off the bed and headed over to the window, studying the house across the street. Then he looked back to Jackson before he said softly, "I take care of my wolves, Jackson."
Jackson's lips pressed together hard, and he jerked his head down and away. When he didn't say anything, Derek shrugged.
"Suit yourself. Leave your window unlocked." He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. It was Jackson's fingers loosely wrapping around his wrist that stopped him, and Derek raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Jackson once more.
Jackson was quiet for long enough that Derek considered pulling away from him, and then there was a very low, "Please, Derek."
Derek was glad that Jackson had his head down, that he couldn't see the triumph flash across Derek's face for that. He made a low noise as he schooled his expression again, and he stepped over to the bed, his free hand reaching to tangle his fingers into Jackson's head and pull him back so that Derek could see his eyes. Jackson didn't fight him, just shivered for it, and his lips parted. So pretty. Derek felt his own lips peel back, flashing his teeth in the sunlight pouring in through the window.
"Say it, Jackson," he growled lowly.
Jackson shuddered, and he swallowed, but he found the words after just a second. "My alpha," he whispered.
"And what does your alpha do for you, Jackson?" Derek said, his voice just as low, just as soft. He leaned in though, getting his mouth just beside Jackson's ear as he spoke.
"Take care of me," Jackson finally whispered back, another little shiver running down his back. Derek's teeth flashed again in the light, and he nipped Jackson's earlobe sharply. Just enough to draw blood.
"Good boy," he murmured, and he knelt down beside the bed to look up at Jackson, meet his gaze and raise an eyebrow. "You'll tell them you don't feel well. That you think you picked up some kind of virus. That or you can tell them that you are just feeling a little overwhelmed with everything that's happened." His hand flexed in Jackson's hair, and then he smoothed the blond strands back out, combing his fingers through them gently. "Your ex girlfriend in the hospital and her best friend's aunt being a murderess. No one would argue."
Jackson blinked slightly at him, then nodded. He leaned forward, and Derek shifted to sit on the edge of the bed just so that he could tuck Jackson's forehead in against his throat. He petted Jackson for a minute, and Jackson didn't even seem to notice how close to losing his towel he was. Derek didn't point it out, only gently dislodged the loose hold Jackson still had on his wrist and moved to fix the towel, tucking it under the edge of Jackson's thigh to keep it steady. His fingers curled lightly through Jackson's hair, and Jackson made a little noise for it.
Starving for the attention. That's what he was. Derek sighed faintly, petting him soft and steady, and he turned to press his cheek against the top of Jackson's head. "You're okay," he said after a minute, the words nearly sticking in his throat. "Figure it out."
"You have no idea what's wrong with me," Jackson said, and for a moment, Derek wasn't sure if he'd actually said it or if Derek had just been imagining it. But no, he'd felt Jackson's breath against his skin, and Derek's eyes narrowed before he pulled back. His hand tightened in Jackson's hair just to make him meet Derek's eyes.
"Take care of my wolves," Derek repeated. He'd never been an alpha before, but he'd been his sister's enforcer, and more than once, he'd felt like the pack back in New York had been his instead of hers. He kept his gaze steady on Jackson. He'd cared for all their wolves, right up until Laura had run them off, one by one. "Take care of you."
Jackson whimpered faintly for that, trying to jerk away, but Derek didn't let him. He just leaned in and brushed his lips against Jackson's cheek.
"My alpha," Jackson repeated again, his eyes closing, and Derek kissed his eyelids too, mostly because he could smell the tears starting to come up. He was pushing too hard, too fast, but Jackson was a stubborn thing, and Derek was pretty sure that even with this, his control was tenuous at best.
"My beta," he murmured back. "Now, get some sleep."
Derek had to find someone to talk to about this.
