June 1926

Noon rolled around and Stiles decided to go on a supply run so Boyd wouldn't complain about the lack of flour. And salt. And milk. It seemed to be a slow day for the whole town. Stiles didn't see anyone as he walked to the store down the road or when he went into the shop or when he walked out again. He strolled into the alley next to the store and lit a cigarette. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned against the brick wall, his back toward the dirt road. Though he didn't hear the man's smooth, silent steps, he felt a looming presence behind him, suddenly. A body crashed into him before he had time to look behind. The cigarette flew out of his hand and pain shot up his back as he was slammed against the building. Bringing his hands up, he struggled against the man's body.

The man, who was tall, fair haired and brooding, slammed Stiles against the side of the shop yet again. As pain radiated over his back, his eyes began to tear. "I can't believe they got a new guy," the man said. "These Hale's are unbelievable. Tobacco stained his breath horribly, his voice was coated with malice. Stiles had no idea what he was talking about. Or why this man was livid. The Hale's, from what he's seen so far, were respectable. The man's fist suddenly collided with his jaw, knocking his head back against the building, hard. "You're a pretty one, though. Derek must like you." He smiled. "A lot." The man's fist came down onto his face again. then, again. And again, until he allowed Stiles to fall to the ground and shield his face. Then his foot came crashing against Stiles's ribs once, before he knelt down beside him, grabbing his shirt and forcing them to look at each other. "Where are they making their stuff?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles choked out, and the man let go of his shirt.

"I don't have time for foreplay, kid." He kicked Stiles in the ribs again. "Tell. Me."

"I don't..." He writhed.

"Alright, kid." The man's foot and Stiles stomach clashed relentlessly until Stiles gasped for air and tried to plead for the kicks to cease. "To be continued, Stilinski."

THREE HOURS LATER

"Stiles?" Getting up quickly he headed toward the kitchen but Derek was right at his heels and spun him around, knocking the ice out of his hand. Derek studied him, the cut on his lip, eye bruised and puffy, blood leaking through his shirt.

"Who did this to you?" Derek tilted Stiles' face up toward the light, he tried to shrug away.

"It was Lahey," Erica said behind them. Derek looked at her past Stiles's shoulder.

"You're sure?"

"Derek, it's fine," Stiles said softly. Erica nodded at Derek.

"That little fuck. He's gonna get it once and for all. All of them," Derek growled and let go of Stiles.

"Derek, no. You know what will happen," Erica moved to touch Derek's shoulder but he slapped her hand away.

"I don't care what will happen!" Derek's voice echoed through the empty store. "Let them come. Let them. If they think they can just waltz up and do this to someone I ca-"

"Derek! Stop, I'm fine. It's all fine," Stiles interjected.

"Stiles, this is bigger than you. There's more going on. You don't understand."

"Then why don't you explain it to me?" It was Stiles's voice that echoed through the store, then, he shook with anger and frustration.

"Sweetie..." Erica started.

"No! I am not a child. Stop fucking treating me like a goddamn child. I'm the one that got the shit kicked out of me, I'm the one that could've been killed and you two are still gonna keep why it happened a secret? Keeping whatever it is from me isn't protecting me." They both stared at him, unable to speak. Derek lost all rage when the tears started falling from Stiles's eyes. "If you're just going to look at me, I'll leave."

When the sun began to set and his head began to throb, he wandered through the woods and up to the house. It was dark and quiet, the only light came from Peter's attic. As he wandered around the back, he caught sight of the barn door hanging ajar. He walked in slowly. "Hello?" The dimming light from outside illuminated stacked up cases of mason jars on the far wall. Curiosity overtook him and he grabbed one of the jars and inspected the clear liquid that sloshed around inside. He unscrewed the cap with precision, sniffed at it, then took a sip. His eyes widened and he swallowed, sharp stinging radiated in his throat and chest. Falling into a coughing fit, his eyes watered uncontrollably.

"Derek!" He rasped when the man's distinctive silhouette stood in the doorway. "Was this the secret?" He shook the jar slightly in Derek's general direction, the man's brow was furrowed as he watched the boy lean over, cough and spit onto the ground. "It's horrible!" Stiles exclaimed looking up at him. There was a moment of silence before Derek laughed a little. Then he laughed some more, having to lean against the crates and clutch his side.

"Secret's out, then," he giggled and Stiles laughed, too. Laughed because that was Derek relaxed and because he didn't have any other response to how beautiful he was when he smiled. "Come on. Bring that with you. It'll help with the pain."