A/N: YAAY! My first Teen Wolf FanFiction! Please read and enjoy! And also... I don't own Teen Wolf... duh.
THREE-SHOT
SUMMARY: "I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen." In which Derek drive Stiles away from the pack, Deucalion takes advantage of Stiles's isolated state, and something terrible does happen.
PAIRINGS: None (bro-fic, but if you crazy Sterek fangirls want, you can read it as that)
CHARACTERS: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Issac L. (I can't spell his last name), Ms. McCall, and the pack
WARNINGS: Violence, gore, language
Stiles drove away from the house as quickly as he could with one hand, the other lying on his lap. He had come to the conclusion that his arm wasn't broken or dislocated, but most likely a bit sprained and extensively bruised. Tears still lingered in his eyes as he thought about Derek's last words.
"You are not pack."
It rung in his ears, making him let out a gasp as he tried to keep from crying.
C'mon, Stiles. You knew you weren't pack, anyways. You're not a werewolf or a druid or even a kanima- there's no way you could ever be pack... Not even if you were a werewolf... They wouldn't ever want anything to do with you- annoying, hyperactive, weak Stiles Stilinski... Stiles rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, wincing as his shoulder protested. Nevermind them, Stiles. Just think about happy thoughts! Puppies and sunshine and flowers and videogames- definitely videogames. Think about... about... World of Warcraft! Yeah! That's a happy thought! I'm almost a level 68- and then I'll be a level 69 and I'll be able to make perverted comments to the rest of my battle crew about it! Yay! Happy thoughts, Stiles! Just don't think about that stupid Alpha Derek Jerk-face and the rest of his Pack Stupid, and you'll be fine! Just fi-
Suddenly, he felt something grab his hoodie. He gasped as he was torn from his Jeep- still moving- and flung to the ground, watching as the car flipped over a fallen tree and fell on its side. "Aw, c'mon!" he whined. "That's my-"
Stiles froze when he saw who was holding his hoodie. Fear took over his features, and it took everything he had to not scream.
"D-Deucalion..." he rasped, eyes wide. Ooooooooh shit. It's Deucalion. Like, the Deucalion who wants the pack and anyone associated with them dead- and I'm associated with the pack. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, mother eff-ing shit and- Gooooooood can't I catch a freaking break every once in a while?
"Hello, Stiles..." the blind werewolf said with an eerie smile. "It's nice to see you again."
Stiles chuckled nervously. "Really? Ah-" he licked his lips "-because you can't, y'know, really see anything- ACK!"
Deucalion's hand quickly moved from Stiles's hoodie to his neck, his body twisting to where he slammed the teenager up against a tree behind him. The Alpha grinned, showing off fangs, and laughed darkly. "You're right, I suppose. Anyway, Stiles, do you know why I'm here?"
Choking and pulling at Deucalion's hands, Stiles shrugged. "Ah, because you love me and think I'm awesome and reeeeeally don't wanna kill me?"
Deucalion's grin got even scarier- is that even possible?- as his grip around Stiles's throat tightened. "I'm here because I want to hurt your pack. I want to hurt them in the most painful way possible. Do you know what that is?"
Stiles gasped for air as he retorted sarcastically, "Well one, they're not my pack, and B, how is that?" Oh, God. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me, puh-leeeeeease don't kill me!
"I'm going to make them feel the anguish I felt when they killed one of my pack members... I'm going to kill you, Stiles Stilinski."
Well, shit.
Deucalion whirled around and threw Stiles into a tree, making the teenager wail in pain. He slumped to the ground, gasping and clutching at his stomach. Okay- soooo not cool. That really, really hurt, you sonofabitch! And I'm sure that under that creepy, furry, Alpha-ness that you care that I'm an innocent human. Right? He watched as Deucalion approached him, claws and fangs at the ready. Okay... maybe not.
The Alpha grabbed Stiles's hoodie with one hand, using the other to slash at his chest. Stiles cried out, tears leaking from his eyes as he attempted to push the werewolf away. Deucalion grabbed Stiles's good arm and, with the simple closing of a fist, snapped his radius and ulna simultaneously. "AAACK!" Stiles screamed, throwing his head back against the tree. He felt Deucalion's foot slam into his shin, and his scream loudened as he heard a terrible snap echo through the forest. Deucalion grinned and lifted his foot to do the same to Stiles's other leg. Through the pained fog of his mind, Stiles thought he heard someone whisper in his brain. He couldn't make out the voice exactly, with all of the signals of agony that his body was sending him, but he could hear that it was husky and low.
"Stiles."
"P-P-Please..." Stiles hissed, fighting back tears rather unsuccessfully as he felt the Alpha press against his leg. "P-P-Please don't..." he whispered, his voice growing dim from his screaming.
Deucalion sighed, nodding. "You're right. I shouldn't prolong your pain. I should just kill you- it's the humane thing to do, right?"
Stiles bit his lip. "T-Then again, g-g-go right a-ahead," he ground out through the pain. Deucalion smirked.
"I kind of like you, Stiles..." His face suddenly turned dark. "Too bad you're Hale Pack."
The werewolf's foot rammed into Stiles's other shin, making Stiles scream once more. P-P-Please help... Stiles thought as he felt Deucalion's claws cut into his chest and legs. P-Please... Scott, I-Issac... Come help me, p-p-please... I- I can't leave D-D-Dad alone... P-Please, h-help me...
Despite the agonizing pain running through his entire body and the anguished screams that came from his raw throat, Stiles couldn't help but find humor in the situation. If only... D-Derek let me t-t-train... We could h-have avoided t-t-this whole s-situation...
Deucalion pulled Stiles away from the tree, throwing him to the ground a good ways away from his Jeep so that the teenager wouldn't be able to crawl to it. As he made his way over to Stiles, Deucalion grinned, smelling the fear radiating from the human's pores. Stiles shivered as Deucalion neared him, curling up to try and protect his broken, wounded body. "P-Please..." Stiles gasped in a minute voice, unable to talk at a normal level. Oh, G-God... I'm b-b-bleeding out... I-I'm g-g-going to d-die here... D-Dad... S-S-Scott... M-Mom... I'm s-so s-s-sorry...
Deucalion crouched near Stiles, smirking darkly. "Oh, don't worry, Stiles... I'm finished with you. I want your pack to find you freshly dead- hopefully even still alive. You'll die in your friends' arms, bleed out and turn white, soak them with your blood..."
Stiles hissed as Deucalion's claws sunk into his chest. The Alpha lowered himself near Stiles's face as he whispered, "I want them to see the light leave your eyes..."
Stiles gasped as he felt Deucalion pull away, heard the crunch of leaves and twigs under the werewolf's feet. He smelled copper, taking note of the blood that was filling his mouth and dripping from his nose. The teenager coughed, breathlessly sputtering as blood shot from his lips and pain racked his body from the single motion.
Black spots appeared before Stiles's eyes. He drifted off into interness, but not before he heard a familiar voice screaming, "STILES!"
…
"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead..."
…
"Deucalion..."
…
"Meet us at the hospital!"
…
The drive to the hospital was agonizing. Stiles spasmed and cried out at every bump in the forest and every pothole on the street they ran over. Scott was holding his friend close to his chest, Stiles's blood leaking out over his clothes. Derek's grip on the steering wheel was so strong that he dented it. Hang on, Stiles... he thought over and over as his hard eyes drifted towards the dying teenager. "How is he?"
Scott shook his head as he stumbled to try and put pressure on all of Stiles's wounds. "He- his pulse is weakening, and- and he's hardly crying out anymore," Scott said with tears in his eyes. "D-Derek, he's dying-"
"I know!" the Alpha snarled, stepping harder on the gas.
They came to a screeching halt in front of the hospital doors, where Derek ordered Scott to go in ahead of them. "NOW!" he roared when the younger werewolf hesitated. Scott scrambled into the hospital, trying to get a hold of himself as he did.
Derek exited the Jeep and jumped over the hood to the other side, quickly taking in the damage that had been done on the drive there. Stiles was hardly moving, besides the subconscious spasms that his body was making and the quiver of his lips as he struggled to breath. Even the movement of his chest rising and falling was getting weaker.
Dammit, Stiles! I said 'hang on'! Derek thought as he pulled the teenager into his arms. The Alpha was alarmed when Stiles made no noise of pain at the movement. "Dammit!" he whispered to himself as he charged towards the hospital doors, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
When he entered, Derek found that Ms. McCall had already readied a stretched for them. Several nurses were at the ready, one taking Stiles from Derek's arms and putting him on the stretcher. Another cut off the tattered remains of Stiles's hoodie and pants, and Derek's eyes widened when he saw Stiles's pale skin covered in liquid red.
The Alpha made to follow the stretcher as Stiles was wheeled into a back room, but Ms. McCall grabbed his biceps. "Derek, you can't go in there."
Derek's eyes flashed red, and he growled, "I have to-"
"You can't, Derek," the nurse replied flatly, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry, but you have to wait. They're taking him into immediate surgery." Derek deflated, feeling suddenly worn. Dammit, Stiles... This is my fault... I let one of my pack get hurt, and by Deucalion, no less... Dammit! Why the Hell did I have to run you off? "You can wait with Scott," the woman said softly, pulling Derek from his thoughts. The Alpha nodded and turned to see Scott already sitting on a chair, his face buried in his bloody hands. Derek could not only smell the hurt and the fear coming from Scott- he could feel it in his bones.
He had read somewhere about this when he was younger. How an Alpha was connected with the rest of his or her pack. How he had known Stiles was in danger was proof of it, as was how he could physically feel Scott's anguish.
Derek sat next to Scott, rubbing his face with his hands. He flinched when he realized he had just wiped blood- Stiles's blood- onto his face.
And then, Ms. McCall was standing in front of them, holding two towels and two sets of plain green nurse scrubs. "You can use the showers in the back," she said as she offered one of the piles of fabric to Derek. "Scott can show you where they are. Scott? Sweetheart?"
Scott looked up, his face ashen and eyes empty. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Derek looked down at his lap, his fingers clasping around the bridge of his nose. Please say he's going to be okay, he cogitated, trying to project his thoughts onto Ms. McCall as if he could control her words.
Ms. McCall smiled sadly at her son, running her fingers through his hair. "They're going to do everything they can, sweetheart," she spoke with a rather dim amount of conviction.
Derek's grip tightened around his towels as he growled lowly, his eyes squeezing shut as his heart pounded dangerously into his throat. That means 'no'.
Scott took his mother's statement positively, though, standing and gesturing for Derek to follow him. The werewolf reluctantly stood and followed Scott through the winding hallways of the hospital.
It was then that Derek remembered just why he hated hospitals so much.
The smell of ammonia assaulted his advanced sense of smell first- Damn. How much of that shit do they need to use?- followed shortly by the definite smell of death. It permeated the air, leaving a draft of bitterness in it. The bright white lights in the ceiling made Derek's head spin, and he grunted as he heard the numerous cries of patients and squeaks of metal against metal from all around. You'd better be okay, you hyperactive little brat, Derek thought, once again forcing his thoughts outwards, willing them towards the room Stiles had disappeared into, because I'll never be able to forgive myself if you're not...
Scott stopped abruptly, and Derek almost ran into him, if not for his super-quick werewolf reflexes. "Here," Scott said softly, brokenly. He pushed open the door to reveal a bathroom that particularly reeked of ammonia, making Derek's lip curl and nose scrunch up. "There's only one shower, so..."
Derek nodded, allowing Scott to go first. Too lost in his thoughts of self-hatred and rage at Deucalion, Derek didn't notice that Scott was finished until the younger werewolf nudged his shoulder. "Your turn."
As Derek stripped, he took note of the blood on his chest and shoulders that had managed to seep through his shirt. His clothes were utterly soaked in red, and the Alpha had to bite his tongue to keep the bile in his throat from making an appearance.
When he got in the shower, Derek turned the water on as hot as it could get, furiously rubbing the blood from his skin. All the while, his thoughts were focused on Stiles dying and just how many ways he could tear Deucalion apart. I'm going to kill you, you sick bastard... He's a kid- a fucking kid- and you k- almost killed him. I'm going to tear you apart slowly, limb by limb, until you beg for mercy. And then, I'm going to torture you even more by making you watch as I kill your entire damn pack! You are going to regret ever messing with us- with my pack... I am going to make you pay tenfold for what you did to him...
Derek dried off and dressed in the scratchy, bleach-smelling scrubs before making his way out of the bathroom. He saw Scott leaning against the wall, wiping away the tears that ran down his face. "Hey."
Derek said nothing in reply, but followed Scott back to the waiting room. The rest of the pack had already congealed there, along with a few other faces that Derek recognized. Boyd was sitting with Issac on the floor, the latter leaning up against Cora's legs as she stroked his hair, her eyes staring into space. Peter was leaning against the wall, his face blank- but really he's nervous- playing with the zipper on his jacket with a faux air of boredom. Lydia and Allison had arrived as well and were huddling together, the prior sobbing. When Allison saw Scott, she ran over to him and began to cry silently into his shoulder.
And then there was the sheriff. Sheriff Stilinski was leaning against the wall, his face covered with tears as he gripped his forehead, trying to get ahold of himself. The anguish that came off of him made Derek stagger as he walked over to his pack. The man reeked of fear, his eyes full of terror as he blinked back tears behind his hand.
"How is he?" Peter asked his nephew nonchalantly, but anyone who knew the werewolf well enough could hear the slight jump in his voice that signaled his distress.
Derek shook his head. "I don't know... They took him into surgery immediately. It was..." -terrible, gruesome, agonizing, abhorring- "bad..."
The pack all looked away from their Alpha, going back to their numbness and sobbing and anger. Derek sat down next to Scott and Allison, leaning forward on his knees and staring at the white tiles. I swear to God, Stiles, you'd better not die... I'll kill you if you do...
…
"Stiles? Stiles! Stay with us!"
…
"Go in ahead!"
"But-"
"NOW!"
…
"Stiles? It's me- Melissa. Stiles, you need to stay awake, alright? Stiles? Stiles!"
…
"We're losing him!"
…
"...Stiles?"
Okay, a lot shorter than the last chappie, but still good... i hope...
Tell me what you think, and I'll have the last chappie up ASAP!