A loud screeching sound filled the locker room, followed soon by a clang of metal hitting tile as Scott ripped the door to Stiles' locker open and threw it haphazardly to the floor. Reaching in he pulled out the clothes Stiles had been wearing before the game, whining needily as his missing friend's sent wafted out of the confined container. Without any real thought to what he was doing Scott brought the clothes up to his face and took a deep breath. Spice and earth filled his nose and he whined again.

When Scott had first connected the sent to his friend he had been confused by it. For some reason it didn't seem to fit with the hyperactive teen. Stiles was bubbly and light whereas the sent, to Scott, seemed heavy and nothing like how his friend should be. But over time he had gotten over that. He had come to accept that this was a sent that was totally and uniquely Stiles', a sent that he had memorized months ago, and sent that he found comfort in always being there.

Only now it wasn't.

And that hurt far more than he ever thought possible.

He took another breath. Suddenly he scrunched his face in confusion

There was something different about the sent. Like something was missing. Something that should have been there.

"Scott?" Issac asked quietly.

The young Alpha didn't seem to hear him as he fingered the material, turning it over and over in his hands, trying to find what was missing. "I wonder when he stopped taking it?" he mumbled to himself.

"Three months ago."

Scott's head snapped up. Derek stood by the door eyes locking on his before flicking down to the pile of clothes in Scott's hands. Behind him stood Peter. Scott's eyes widened at the sight of the once dead Alpha. His eyes darted back and forth between Derek and his uncle before the words caught up to him.

"Three mon—wait what? How do you know that? For that matter, what the hell are you even doing here? Or, more importantly, what is he," he gestured wildly at Peter, "doing alive?"

Derek took a step forward his eyes flashing, "None of those things are really important right now." He took another step forward, "What is important is finding Stiles."

"And serving Gerard's head up on a plate." Peter added taking a slight step forward, "I may have been dead for the last few months, but the last time I checked hunters generally left humans alone. I guess Gerard just decided that this one was too valuable. I'm just worried about…" he stopped suddenly.

The remaining wolves bristled, "Wo-worried about what?" Issac asked fearfully, "They wouldn't really hurt Stiles would they?" his eyes flickered frantically around the room, trying to find someone who would agree with him. No one met his eye.

"He threatened my mom." Scott said softly fingering Stiles clothes again.

"And I'm sure my nephew has mentioned his ex-girlfriend." Peter added bitterly smirking internally as Derek flinched.

Issac swallowed thickly, "So….what?"

Peter stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets so none of the others could see his fists, though he was sure if they weren't so worried about the missing teen they would smell the blood, "I've been keeping my eyes on them. They'll probably try to persuade him first, tell him that we're dangerous monsters that don't deserve to live. They'll remind him of all the times we put him in danger or threatened him or forced him into our world against his will, and if that doesn't work then they will go back to their old standby."

Torture.

It didn't need to be said.

"And if that doesn't work?" Peter looked at Scott skeptically. The young Alpha leveled a glare at him, "You don't know him."

Derek met Issac's eye and they both shared a knowing smirk.

Peter cleared his throat, "Yes well, I hope for his sake it does."

The smirk dropped of Derek's face and his eyes snapped to his uncle's, "Peter," he growled eyes flashing, "what do you know?"

There was no way in hell Peter would condone a member of the pack turning on their pack. Not unless there was a very good reason.

For the first time since he walked in the door the former Alpha dropped his eyes to the floor. Swiping his tongue across his lips he began speaking, "I recently learned that Gerard hired a man by the name of Andrew Humus," His voice was controlled, but his body shook with a rage so palpable that the other three were forced to take a step back, "he is a convict recently released from the Washing State Penitentiary after serving five years for…." By now he was half shifted causing the last few words to become garbled.

They understood it anyway.

Issac immediately snatched the missing boy's clothes out of Scott's hands.

They had to find Stiles. Now.

Righty and Lefty took a great deal of pleasure in dragging their captive over to an exposed pole sticking out of the floor in the center of the Argent's basement. Twisting him around so that his back was to the pole Righty held him still while Lefty slipped away for a second before returning with more rope. He then proceeded to tie Stiles' already bound hands to the pole. The rope was then wrapped around his waist and pulled tight so that his back was flush against the pole. Stiles knew by then that it was pointless to struggle anymore but that didn't stop him from jerking viciously at his bonds in the hopes of loosening them. All he managed to do was rub his writs raw and bruise his stomach.

It also gave Righty and Lefty something to laugh about.

"Give it up already kid." Righty said snidely once he stopped clutching the stitch in his side, "There is no way you are getting out of those ropes. Which is fine by me." He shrugged his shoulders, "Means I'll never have to see your face again."

Lefty clucked his tongue, "You have absolutely no taste John." Taking Stiles' chin in between his thumb and forefinger he forced the teen to look at him. Stiles tried to jerk out of his grasp. The grip tightened. "Kid's got some fire in him, those are always the best kind. Never cared much for the pleading or the sobbing. Makes them more fun to break if they've got something to lose." Keeping firm hold of the chin in his hand Lefty began turning the younger boy's head back and forth, eyeing it as though it were a piece of meat, "Not bad looking either. In fact," he turned Stiles forward again, "if the old man didn't need him so much I wouldn't mind being the one to make him scream."

Honey brown eyes widened in fear.

"Ya well, unfortunately for you, and as you so aptly put it before, Gerard does in fact want the boy alive and in one piece so you will just have to wait to play with your new toy until he is done." Righty (who was now apparently John) said stiffly as he turned on his heel and walked toward the door.

Lefty moaned mournfully.

John stopped at the foot of the stairs, "Come on Drew," he snapped over his shoulder, "The old man is already pissed at us for losing the wolves do you really want to make him angrier?"

Drew snarled but dropped his hand form Stiles' face. Grumbling, he made his way to John's side, "It wasn't my fault they got away. You were the one who was supposed to make sure they were secure."

"Don't you try to blame this on me you perverted shit you were the one who was supposed to make sure the current was on."

"It was on you fucker! And I bet anything you overloaded the circuit again with that goddamn guitar of yours."

They continued to argue all the way up the stairs. Stiles barely heard them. His mind was too busy trying to process what he had just heard. Wolves, they had had wolves in this hell whole. It must have been just recently otherwise he would have heard about it. Derek was a lot of things –including a shitty Alpha, a creeper, and a basket case—but one thing he was not was heartless. Sure the thing was buried under a lot of pain and scar tissue, but it was still there.

If any of his pack were in trouble then Derek would be the first to break down the door.

But the hunters hadn't mentioned Derek.

They had just said that they had escaped.

And from the sound of it, it had been an inside job. Which meant that either Allison or Chris was on their side, on his side. Hopefully both. Though, judging by the way Allison had been behaving recently Stiles couldn't be sure whether the thought of her coming back to their side comforted him or pissed him off.

Right now he was leaning toward the latter.

The room around him was suddenly plunged into darkness. A door slammed shut and the sickening sound of it locking echoed off the walls of the tiny room.

Stiles swallowed thickly. If wolves from Derek's pack had really escaped from the Argents with the help of an Argent then Gerard didn't have much time till not only the wolf pack but the Beacon Hills Police Department came raining down on his head. Whatever he wanted he would have to get before they arrived.

And Stiles was the only one left who could give it to him.

Chris drove through the forest trying to ignore the sounds coming out of the trunk of his car. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror to where Boyd and Erica were comforting each other in the backseat. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

All his life he had been taught that werewolves were the enemy, that they were nothing more than creatures that killed and turned as they pleased. Inhuman monsters that cared only for the hunt and for nothing else.

But tonight he had been proven wrong.

Tonight he had seen the truth.

Tonight he had seen two sixteen year old wolves, two children, tortured for want they were. Tortured for an Alpha whose only crimes were stopping his rampaging uncle and turning them too soon. Derek could have sought revenge if he had wanted too, could have joined his uncle in a slaughter. But he didn't. Instead, he had been stripped of his family by the one he loved, seen the death of his uncle by his own hand, and been forced into a role that should not have been his in the first place.

Chris was barely handling the loss of his wife. He could only imagine what Derek had and was feeling.

He sighed.

When he had found out that Derek was making a pack he had assumed that it only because he wanted to be stronger. Now he wasn't so sure.

Erica sniffed, "Th-th-thank you. For helping us."

Flicking his eyes to the mirror again. Erica was tucked into Boyd's side, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

He swallowed again.

He had been so, so wrong.

Nodding once he flicked his eyes back to the road, reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and reached back over the seat. "We'll be reaching the old warehouse soon. You had better call Derek and let him know."

Tentatively, Boyed reached out snatching the phone out of the hunter's hand. Then he turned his eyes back to the road.

There was a few moments of silence before Erica spoke again, "Do you think he will forgive us?"

Boyd hummed comfortingly, "He is still our Alpha. He was right and we know that now. We will just have to prove to him that we understand that know. Derek has been more than giving to us, it is time we return the favor."

"Yeah."

"It will be alright Erica."

"I wish Batman was here, he always knew what to do."

"I do to."

Chris rose an eyebrow in confusion. Shrugging his shoulders he continued to drive.