They hide the Jeep on an access road maybe a half-mile out. The sun hasn't quite set, so they have to pull in pretty far, but it won't be visible from the main road. The Argents haven't arrived yet; Peter said they should allow some time to get into position. He's not sure how long the fight will last.
Scott's about to get out of the car when Stiles grabs his elbow. "Scott. Be careful." His eyes flick back to where Peter's climbing from the Jeep. "Like, really careful. 'Cause I won't be there to save your ass."
"Hey. Don't worry." He gives Stiles a pat on the shoulder. "I know. We'll be fine."
Stiles swallows and nods. Scott still feels guilty for dragging his friend out here, but they need a getaway driver, because there's a real chance that none of them will be in any condition to drive a car after they pull Derek out.
Scott jumps out, followed by Isaac and Peter. Scott glances over his shoulder. He doesn't like Peter's inclusion in this, not at all. But they'll need all the help they can get. He jolts as Peter grasps his arm. "This way. Follow me."
They slip through the forest as stealthily as they can. Scott hears it after a few moments, the rumble of engines. The Argents are close. Peter stops them, points ahead. "That's where they're holed up."
Scott squints. Through the trees, he can see white siding. A house.
"Wait for my cue." The moon is near-full, and Peter's grin catches the light. Combined with his recently dead state, it makes him look for a second like a mad ghost. Scott mentally shakes himself. No time to be scared of Peter. He's got enough to worry about tonight.
Then suddenly Peter's off and running. Scott swears under his breath, pushes off the nearest tree trunk and sprints after him. Isaac's right there. "Wow, he's pretty eager to save Derek."
"Yeah, I know!" Which doesn't ring true, and never has, but it's too late. Whatever happens, it's too late.
The first volley of gunfire sounds just as they arrive at the house. Scott freezes reflexively, but Peter grabs hold of his arm and heaves him forward. "Quickly! They'll be forming a perimeter!"
"All right, jeez! I'm just trying to find him!" Scott takes a deep breath as he runs to the back door. He can smell Derek here, definitely, but there's several other scents too, unfamiliar ones, and they're hard to disentangle.
"I got him. Come on." Isaac claps Scott on the back.
Must be a Beta-Alpha thing. Scott follows him. Peter's right behind.
The house appears to be empty; the other wolves are all outside, meeting the hunters head-on. Scott frowns. "You sure he's—" But Isaac moves with confidence, pulling at a white-painted door in the central hallway, then standing back and kicking it down when it doesn't open.
The lights are on. The basement looks empty.
Isaac, at the top of the stairs, calls out softly. "Derek?"
There's a low growling from below them. Scott yanks Isaac back just as Derek pulls himself up onto the edge of the landing, slashing the air.
"Shit!" Scott tries to slam the door shut, but one clawed hand clamps down on it from the inside and shoves it open, overwhelming Scott's efforts with ease.
"What the hell—" He doesn't get any further, because Derek's coming at him with what looks like the intent to kill. Scott flings himself sideways and ends up on his ass, but considering the enormous, ragged hole in the drywall where he was just standing, that's an acceptable tradeoff. Derek yanks his claws from the wall and faces the three of them, teeth bared. Yeah. Definitely the intent to kill.
The hallway is narrow, hardly an ideal place to defend themselves. Derek goes after Isaac next, roaring, and Isaac freezes, his Beta instincts kicking in. There's no room for Isaac to retreat, and Derek's backhand sends him bouncing off the wall and stumbling to the floor, prone. Too exposed. Way too exposed. Derek's about to go deliver the finishing blow, and Scott, knowing this won't turn out well but seeing no other options, grabs Derek bodily, planning to pivot him away from Isaac.
He barely gets his hands on the Alpha before Derek's twisting, breaking his grip, gathering the front of Scott's shirt in his hand and slamming him into the wall. It happens too fast for Scott to react with anything other than total surprise and reflexive terror. Derek's face is inches from his own, wolfed out, eyes sparking red.
But he hesitates.
The ferocity vanishes, confusion taking its place. Derek's eyes fade to their normal gray-green. He looks down at where his claws have pierced Scott's shirt, opens his hand.
Peter takes the opportunity to lift Derek bodily, step into the basement, and throw him off the side of the landing.
He withdraws and swings the door shut behind him. "Okay. Time to run away now."
Scott hauls Isaac to his feet while Peter peeks out the door. "Coast is clear. Mostly. Let's go."
As they emerge into the evening air, Scott hears the basement door bang open behind them. Not wanting to face Derek again, he runs, dragging a still-dazed Isaac along with him. There's a scuffle going on to their left, two werewolves and two hunters, but they get by unnoticed.
"What the hell was that?!" Scott, seeing Isaac's got his feet back under him, lets him go. "It was like he didn't even recognize us or something!"
"Ah, that's not quite true." Peter's keeping pace with them. "Scott, are those clothes you're wearing yours?"
"Um—" Weird question. He answers automatically. "Yeah, of course they're—" But that's wrong, now that he thinks about it, and he amends his answer. "No, wait, Stiles lent me this shirt. I spilled ketchup all over mine at lunch. Oh, crap, there's holes in it now…" And there are, four ragged holes right in the center of the chest where Derek's claws tore through it.
"Interesting. Very interesting." Peter looks thoughtful, and Scott thinks if he wasn't running, he'd probably be stroking his beard. "So he reacts to all of us with hostility and aggression, but the scent of Stiles brings him back to earth. Did you see his eyes? They went human-colored when he got close enough to you."
Scott's brow crinkles. "What? Why does Stiles make him do that?"
Peter shrugs nonchalantly. "How is Stiles different from the rest of us?"
It's obvious. "Human. He's human."
"Exactly." Peter grins. "Stiles is neither a wolf nor a threat, so Derek's wolf side doesn't care about him. And the human side can break through." He sighs. "Poor Stiles. I really didn't think he was going to have to get involved."
Even Isaac looks up in surprise at this, and Scott wastes no time in protesting. "Wait—no. No way. We are not letting Stiles anywhere near Derek. He was this close to killing us, and Stiles isn't exactly equipped to handle that kinda thing—"
"Do you have an alternate plan?"
Scott's never heard that sharpness before from Peter, and it takes him by surprise. Peter's pinned him, too, with his stare, even as they're running. "Do you have any other ideas for bringing my lunatic nephew back to his senses and rescuing him from the—depraved wolves who have done this to him? Because, Scott, if he's this bad after only six days, how long do you think it'll be before his human side is completely suffocated? We must do this now or he's gone forever."
They're almost at the Jeep. Scott doesn't know how it got to this point, when he's actually considering throwing his self-confessedly fragile best friend at a killer werewolf. "Look, we'll—we'll tell Stiles. And let him decide. Okay?" But even that's an admission of defeat, because if this is the only way to save a life, there's no chance in hell Stiles will refuse.
Peter insists they explain on the move, because they've wasted too much time already. And Scott's right. Of course. He can tell Stiles is terrified even though he pretends to be calm, can see his eyes have gone a little wide, and he won't smile. But Stiles says he'll try, doesn't put up any objections, doesn't complain even one bit.
Scott hates everything about this. "Just promise me, if anything goes wrong, you run, okay? We'll be there. We'll get you out."
"Yeah, I know. I know." No self-deprecating quip at the end. Scott swears to himself in his head, over and over and over. They keep running.
There's hunters in the forest now. The perimeter has broken, and they're scattered, wolves and hunters circling each other. Peter's eyes dart left and right, and he picks out a safe path for them with preternatural skill. Scott doesn't argue. He's too busy keeping an eye on Stiles. Which isn't even necessary, at this point, but he can't help it. He feels like he needs to do something, and this is all he can think of.
The backyard is empty now, and Stiles doesn't pause at the treeline with the rest of them, just barges straight ahead. Scott's pretty sure that he's afraid if he stops, he won't have the courage to start walking again.
Stiles pushes the door open. Scott hears him call, tremulously: "Derek?"
From inside the house, a low growl.
Peter grabs Scott's arm. "I believe that's our cue to exit."
