Kidnapped

At first I thought it was Derek doing his 'stalk Stiles' routine. I guess he feels guilty about the alpha pack taking me hostage. He has been trying to show me that I am pack but I know it's just guilt. I got all messed up trying to keep his betas alive so he can't just dump me. It would be like taking Lassie to the pound after she saved Timmy from the well, just not done.

My tire was flat and I was struggling to fit the jack under without it slipping on the loose gravel of the shoulder. I could see the black boots topped by black jeans as they walked my way. As he came closer I could see the leather jacket out of the corner of my eye. Derek to the rescue again.

"Can I give you a hand?" I must have jumped a foot because that was not Derek's growly voice; it was warm and happy like the summer sun if sunshine had a voice.

I cradled my hand against my chest, having cut it as I jumped in terror from an offer of help, the gash oozing blood slowly through my grip. "Shit, I am so sorry. Here let me." Sunny, as my tangled brain dubbed him for both his voice and his hair, kneeled down and wrapped a handkerchief around my cut. "I didn't mean to startle you. I saw you on the side of the road and I just wanted to lend a hand. It's getting dark and changing a tire on a shoulder like this can be tricky. Damn, sorry again. I kinda babble when I am making a fool out of myself."

He smiled with his whole face, from pewter grey eyes to a small crinkle in his nose. He even had dimples on both cheeks. I keep the "huba huba" to myself. "I babble too and I don't even have to make a fool out of myself to do it, it just comes naturally. The babble, not the being a fool. Though if you ask my friends they would tell you I am both and God, I will stop talking now."

Sunny just smiled through my ramble, his hand lingering over mine. "I wish you wouldn't. Stop talking that is. I like hearing you talk." A blush tipped his ears and he gave the most bashful nod as he broke eye contact. "Sorry, I don't usually come on to strange men this way. I'm Jack." Looking down at my hand, which was still tucked in his larger palm, he gave it a slow shake before letting me go. "So can I give you a hand? With changing the tire?"

"I'd really like that. I can't seem to keep it steady and I kinda have a phobia about jeeps falling on me. Long story. I'm Stiles."

Jack stilled and looked guilty for a second. "Are you the sheriff's son?"

"Are there that many Stileses running around?"

"Look I'm going to just come clean with you right now. I'm Jack Veneur, Chris' cousin. I've come to stay with him for a while and, God, this looks bad. I don't want you to think I'm some sort of freak that's trying to stalk you are something." Jack stood quickly and backed away. "Maybe I should leave?"

"Or you could help me change my tire. As far as I know Derek and Chris have a truce going and I'm not a werewolf so I should be safe. Are you hunting?"

"No! I'm not in the family business. Actually, that's why I'm staying with Chris. He doesn't push for the kill like Mom does." Kneeling back down he made quick work with the jack and had my tire off in moments as he talked. "My mom is Victoria's younger sister. Not that our families are close, I haven't seen Uncle Chris since I was seven and Allison was still in diapers."

Pulling my spare up, he fixed it in place, spinning the nuts and tightening them with a competent flare. I watched the subtle play of the tendons in his hands as he worked with the tools. What is it about men in leather jackets that makes me so wound up?

"Okay, that should hold you until you get a new tire." Dusting the gravel off his hands, Jack handed me my tools and carried my tire to the back of my jeep. "I don't know if you would be interested but I would like to see you again. Maybe for coffee or something. I would understand if you said no being part of the local pack in all."

"I'm not pack. I'm just a friend of one of the wolves." Never pack, never wanted, especially now the memory of the dead alpha whispered in my ear. "Coffee sounds nice." I wasn't going to feel guilty about this. I wasn't pack. I didn't need Derek's permission to have coffee with a cute, older man that reminded me so intensely of my alpha. No, not my alpha because I am NOT PACK.

I kept the guilt pressed deep inside while we exchanged phone numbers and made a tentative plan to meet at the Coffee Hut the following day. Once in my car I found myself pulling over after just a few miles when the tears blinded me.

I thought of the pain I went through as my body healed. Some days it hurt worse to heal than it did when I received the wound. Maybe emotional healing is the same; it hurts worse before it can get better.

Sucking air in through my teeth I forced myself to believe it. I WAS getting better. Just cracked, not broken, just cracked.

He was laughing. I hadn't seen him laugh since before the alphas took him. Oh, he smiled, eyes tight and hollow as lips formed the expected motion, but he hadn't really laughed. Not the carefree, happy sound that rolled out of him as he sat across from the large blond at the coffee shop.

I wanted to rip the skin from his bones for touching what was mine. It was all I could do to keep my wolf at bay as the older man brushed his hand against Stiles' as he reached for a napkin.

Isaac made a high pitched whine as my anger begin to affect him. Closing my eyes, I reined back my jealousy to a more manageable level. "Do you know who he is?"

"No. Stiles doesn't really talk to us at school anymore. Every time he sees us he seems to just slink away. Scott's the only one he even texts on a regular basis."

Pulling out my phone a called Scott and demanded he get his ass to the Coffee Hut NOW. I tried not to push my alpha status with Scott that often but this was an emergency and I needed someone for recognizance. I didn't like the looks of this new person in Stiles' life.

Unfortunately Scott is mostly worthless. By the time he showed up Stiles and the blond were long gone having exited the shop, leaving in separate cars after smiling and touching too much in the front of the store.

Leaving Isaac to fill Scott in on the Stiles situation, I followed the biker wanna-be as he drove his Charger through the town. What would Stiles see in a man like that? How pretentions could a guy be wearing a leather jacket when it was eighty degrees outside and the black on black just looked ridiculous.

My blood chilled as the Charger pulled in front of the Argent house. Not wanting to waste another moment I dialed directly to the source. "Stiles! What the hell are you doing with a hunter?"

There were a few seconds of silence as I heard Stiles fumble with his phone and take a couple of shuddering breaths. He hadn't known. That bastard was using Stiles to get close to the pack. He was going to break him into little pieces, the truce with Chris be damned.

"He's not a hunter. I mean his family is, cause he's Chris' nephew but he is not in the business. And I was having coffee with him. What does it matter who I have coffee with. Crap! You think I would tell him information about the pack. Fuck, Derek, what do I have to do for you to trust that I would never let something harm your pack? I would die first. You paranoid shit, I almost did!"

It's hard to slam a cell phone but Stiles' made an impressionable click as he hung up on me. My steering wheel creaked under the pressure of my grip as I fought for control of my anger. Why is it that I can never seem to say the right thing with Stiles? Every word I says seems to be taken as the complete opposite of what I meant. I know that I have trouble with the emotional part of dealing with people but this was insane. I seriously can't be this messed up.

I was so busy berating myself for handling Stiles wrong again that I didn't even hear Chris approach the side of my car until he tapped on the passenger window before letting himself into my car.

"I guess you have seen my nephew and Stiles." I didn't mean to growl but I couldn't form words at that point without screaming. "I know you don't want advice from me but I will give it to you anyway. Stiles is human and all he has ever received from you and your pack is death and pain. I know you never mean for him to be hurt but think of everything he has been through since you came into his life. I know you feel strongly toward him, you wouldn't have come to me for help if you didn't, but maybe you need to stop thinking of what you want and think about what is best for Stiles."

The plastic cracked under my hand, claws flashed briefly and I had that sharp edged vision that let me know my eyes had gone red. Chris sat stoically as I flashed between human and wolf. "Your control is usually better than this, Derek."

"I know. It's Stiles."

"Don't you think it is best if he finds his own way to heal? Give him some space." Chris slapped my knee in a friendly way and left. When did my life become so twisted that I was taking relationship advice from the man whose sister killed my entire family.

The worst thing was that I knew he was right. If I forced my way in, I would just push Stiles further away. Maybe he needed some normal, human friends in order to start the healing process.

It hurt; it hurt more than I ever thought I could feel again but I pulled away from the curb and promised myself I would give Stiles the space he needed. But lacking Stiles I was broken and I didn't know how to start to piece myself together without him.

AN: Okay, I have more plot bunnies than brains. I have four stories currently being updated on a sorta not so regular basis. I do try but – there are FOUR of them and I am not that organized. Plus, the random thought factory that is my brain just churned out another idea that is taking up all my extra brain capacity. So…I have made a schedule…and I will stick to it (pinky promise). I will rotate – Kidnapped, Hunter War, SPZA (the new one), Two out of Three is BAD, and Stiles Has Enough. I write about 1,000 + words a night so I should be able to get two new chapters posted a week-ish.

Yeah – I'm screwed. Don't hate me because I'm an idiot.