Notes: Beta by Dusty, who once spent nine days and nine nights trapped in a cave full of funnel-webs, learning the Ways of the Spider.

Chapter Seven: Lost in the Mazes

The sound of gunfire shocks Derek out of his daze. Everything hurts. He can barely breathe. The pavement is rough and cold against his cheek.

The Alpha bellows. Claws scramble on the asphalt. Moving away. Fleeing? That can't be right.

Two fingers touch gently to his pulse.

"Derek?"

Derek groans.

The hand moves to his arm, lifting it. Lifting him.

"Come on, Derek. Move. The parking lot is not for sleeping."

Agent Stilinski carries—drags—Derek to the jeep. Hefts him into the passenger seat. The hand is back, fingers on his jaw, turning his face.

"Derek? Stay with me. I need you."

He can't focus. Leans into the warmth of Stilinski's touch. Why is he cold? Blood loss, maybe? Laura would know.

Something opens in front of him—the glove compartment—and Stilinski rummages around for a few seconds before snapping it shut again.

"Okay. You're safe here, for now. Help is on the way."

The door closes.

ʘ

Stiles slams the backup magazine home and chambers the first round. The fucking Alpha took 13 bullets to the face and all that did was scare him off. He considers hitting up the Argents for some of their wolfsbane rounds, but he doubts they'd let him have any. Plus, those things probably violate more than a few articles of the Geneva convention.

He grabs his phone and calls Lydia.

"Stiles? Where have you been?"

"It's a really, really long story." Stiles scans the parking lot. "I'm at the school now. Derek's hurt and Dr. Deaton's cuffed in the back of the jeep. I need you to get here, pick them up, and get them somewhere safe."

"... Stiles, why is Dr. Deaton cuffed in the back of the jeep?" Lydia says. "Never mind, we'll go over that later. Swear to god, I can't leave you alone for five fucking minutes. Where are you going to be?"

Stiles ascends the steps to the school doors. "Scott ran into the school. The Alpha's probably gone after him. I've got to find him first."

"You'll need my help."

"Derek and Dr. Deaton first." Stiles cracks the door open and edges inside. "Trust me, okay?"

"I always do, against my better judgment." Through the line, Stiles hears the office door close. "Be careful, Stiles."

"Will do." Stiles hangs up.

Schools are always creepy when they're empty. Doubly so after dark, with the lights off. Stiles keeps his gun drawn and moves slowly through the halls, checking every corner.

He stops when he hears something moving.

Around the next corner, just out of his line of sight: deep, heavy breathing.

Stiles raises the gun and quickly turns the corner, finger on the trigger.

He immediately lowers it again when he sees who it is, because Special Agent Stilinski of the FDSI almost shot the mouth-breathing janitor.

"What the fuck?" the janitor gasps. Either this is the exact same guy from when Stiles was in high school, or there's a hiring policy in place here that favors short, middle-aged balding custodians.

Stiles flicks the safety catch and holsters the gun before his nerves get someone killed. "Sorry, my mistake."

"What the hell are you doing, waving a gun around like that?"

Stiles shows the guy his badge. "I'm Agent Stilinski."

"One of the feds?"

"Yeah." Stiles looks up and down the hall. All clear, for now. "Don't suppose you've seen a teenage boy running around the school?"

"Nah, not tonight." The janitor starts to look less like he's on the verge of a heart attack. "There's a kid in here? You need help looking?"

Stiles exhales, trying to get his own heart rate under control. "Actually, yeah. That would be awesome. But there's a suspect on the premises, too. If you see anyone you don't recognize, don't confront them, okay? Don't even approach them. The suspect is armed and dangerous." Which isn't even a total lie.

"Sure thing," the janitor says, still looking a little shaken.

"All right, I'll take the North wing. Meet you back at the atrium after the first sweep."

Stiles and the janitor strike out in opposite directions. Stiles has just turned the corner when he hears the janitor yell.

Shit. Stiles draws his gun again and backs up, peeking around the corner.

The janitor is on the floor. In a pool of blood. There are a pair of red eyes in the dark.

Stiles doesn't bother with the bullets this time. He runs.

ʘ

Eventually, Stiles slows to a jog, then a brisk walk. He turns yet another corner and collides with Scott.

"Back door," Stiles barks, and pushes Scott ahead of him.

They reach the back door, undo the locks, and shove against the door handles.

The doors don't budge.

"Crap," Stiles squeaks—very manfully, mind you—and looks through the windows. Someone's shoved a Dumpster up against the doors. "Oh, that is just cheating."

"What do we do?" Scott whines.

Stiles leans back against the doors and tries to remember the layout of the school. "Okay, we'll circle back around to the gym, get out through there."

"Wait." Scott holds a hand up and tips his head to the side, like the dog from the old RCA Victor ads. "Is that...?"

"What?"

"... I think Allison and Jackson are in here somewhere."

Stiles makes a few incoherent noises of confusion before he says, "Why?"

"I need to borrow your phone," Scott says.

Stiles hands his phone over. Scott dials quickly and puts it on speaker.

"... Hello?" A girl's voice.

"Allison?" Scott says. "Where are you?"

"I'm by the pool. Where are you?"

"Allison?" Stiles says, cutting in. "It's Agent Stilinski. Meet us in the atrium, okay?"

"... Okay," Allison says, and hangs up.

ʘ

Scott and Stiles are waiting in the atrium when Allison and Jackson arrive. Stiles opens with, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You told us to meet you in the atrium," Jackson says, wearing the patented adults-are-idiots face all teenagers pick up in middle school.

"Not here-here, at-the-school-here," Stiles snaps.

"Scott texted me," Allison says. "He said to come to the school."

A few seconds pass. "Scott doesn't have a phone," Stiles says, very carefully.

"And why is Jackson here?" Scott adds.

"We were hanging out when she got your text," Jackson says.

"'Hanging out?'" Scott says, looking pissed. "With Jackson?"

Allison says, "We're just friends."

"McCall, relax," Jackson says, right on Allison's heels. "You don't have dibs over Allison's entire social life."

Stiles groans. "Oh my god, are we really going to do this now?"

A low growl echoes down the hall from behind Stiles.

"Run!" Stiles yells, drawing his gun. Scott grabs Allison by the arm, and the kids book it down the hall. Stiles follows, covering their retreat.

They end up in the cafeteria, of all places. Stiles slams the deadbolt into place and steps back with his gun raised, covering the door.

"What the hell was that?" Jackson gasps, trying to get his breath back. Jesus, for the captain of the lacrosse team, the guy isn't much of a sprinter.

"Uh, there is currently a murder suspect loose in the school," Stiles says, not taking his eyes off the door.

"A suspect?" Jackson wheezes.

"That... that's the best way of putting it, yeah. He's already killed the janitor."

"... Then he's not a suspect, is he?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Look, this isn't my best day, all right?"

"So what do we do?" Allison says. She sounds nervous, but not nearly as wrecked as Jackson.

"Right now, priority one is getting you guys out of here," Stiles says. "Back doors are blocked, and the suspect is between us and the other exits, so we need another way out."

"Can't we call someone?" Jackson asks petulantly. "Get the authorities involved?"

"The 'authorities' are involved," Stiles answers. "Sorry, man. I'm all you get."

"Oh, well that's just great."

"Hey!" Scott snarls.

"Calm down, Scott," Stiles says. His arms are starting to get sore. "Did they ever close off the old stairwell in the kitchen?"

"I don't think so," Scott says.

"Okay, we can get to the second floor through there. We're going out via the roof."

Jackson gapes. "The roof?"

"No, there's a fire escape down to the ground, it makes sense," says Allison.

The doors shudder, like something heavy has just thrown itself against them.

"Up the stairs!" Stiles shouts, backing up. "Now! Head for the chem lab!"

Stiles manages to get the stairwell door closed and locked behind him before the cafeteria door breaks, but it's a near thing.

ʘ

Just outside the chem lab, Stiles' phone rings.

"I just dropped Mr. Hale off at the hotel," Lydia says as soon as Stiles picks up. "He's healing already. I think he'll be okay."

"Where'd you put him?"

"The bathtub."

"And Dr. Deaton?"

"He wasn't in the jeep."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Stiles hisses.

"I'm on my way back," Lydia says.

"What? No!" In the background, Stiles can hear an engine running. "Distracted driving law!" he adds.

"Stiles, I'm not about to let the Alpha eat my partner," Lydia says. She's using that tone again. "I just got you trained the way I want. I'll be there soon."

With that, Lydia hangs up.

Stiles shoulders open the door to the chem lab. Scott, Jackson, and Allison look like they're waiting for him. "Why aren't you guys out of here yet?"

"The door to the roof is locked," Allison says.

"Fuck." Stiles locks the door and leans against it. "Okay, give me a second to think."

"Can't you just shoot the lock off or something?" Jackson says.

"Oh yeah, that's an awesome idea, it's not like the bullet could ricochet and kill someone or anything," Stiles retorts.

"What about the janitor?" Allison asks. "He has the keys to every lock in the building, right?"

"The janitor's dead," Stiles reminds her gently.

"I know, but you could maybe get the keys off his body? Or something?"

It's not a bad idea. Well, it is a bad idea, but it's less bad than all the other options. "Okay," Stiles says, and turns back around, unlocking the door to the hall. "Stay here, and lock this door behind me." He digs his phone out of his pocket and holds it out to Allison. "My partner's on her way, so if I don't come back—"

"Wait!" Scott interrupts. He grabs Stiles' arm and pulls him to the other end of the room. Christ, his grip is strong these days. "I should go," Scott says.

"I can't let you risk yourself," Stiles replies, keeping his voice low. "The Alpha's after you—"

"Because he needs me," Scott points out. "He needs me in his pack, right? He wants to kill me less than he wants to kill you."

"That's because he wants you to commit murder with him."

"He can't make me hurt anyone." Scott glances back at Allison, who's nervously watching them. "I need you to protect her."

"Them," Stiles corrects.

"Yeah, them." Scott looks over at Allison again. "Please. Let me do it."

Stiles sighs. "Let the record show that this is a stupid plan and I hate it."

"I know," Scott says, and is out the door before Stiles can say anything else.

"Scott?" Allison calls. Stiles throws the deadbolt. "Where's he going?"

"He's getting the keys."

"By himself?" Allison sounds like she's on the verge of tears.

"He'll be fine," Stiles says, trying to sound convincing.

"You were just saying whoever went might not come back!"

Jackson shrugs. "Look, if McCall wants to throw himself under the bus for us, I have no problem with—"

"Shut up, Jackson!" Allison shouts. Oh, she's definitely crying now.

"He'll be okay," Stiles repeats, staring at the door. He fully intends to watch this door until Scott comes back through it.

About five minutes go by in silence before Jackson says, "I'm sorry."

Stiles assumes this apology isn't for him, what with the crying person in the room, and so says nothing.

"I mean it," Jackson says. "I told you I was going to be less of a dick, and I haven't been doing a very good job, so... sorry."

"It's okay," Allison says, sniffling a bit.

A howl rends the air, deep and long. Stiles' fingers twitch toward his holster.

"What was that?" Allison gasps.

At the same time, Jackson says, "That doesn't sound like a fucking 'murder suspect.'"

"Everything's fine," Stiles says, lying through his teeth. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Another few minutes go by. Then, they hear Scott's voice from the hall.

"Stiles?"

Stiles steps up to the door, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, buddy? Got the keys?"

"Yes." There's a pause, then: "Stiles, I need you to come out here." His voice sounds... small, almost childlike.

"Scott? Everything okay out there? Are you hurt?"

"Stiles, please. I need you to come out."

The hairs on the back of Stiles' neck are standing on end. Something feels wrong, and Stiles hasn't survived this long in his line of work by ignoring his instincts.

But it's Scott.

Stiles steps away from the door. "Keep this door closed and locked," he says to Allison and Jackson, "and don't open it until I say so. No matter what happens, do not open this door." He hands his phone to Allison.

Allison takes the phone, looks at it, then looks up at him. "What's going on?"

Stiles says, "Everything's gonna be okay."

He really hates lying to Allison.

Stiles steps out of the chem lab. He hears someone throw the deadbolt behind him.

There's nobody out here. Stiles looks up and down the hall. Empty. "Scott?"

And then Scott's there, fully shifted, yellow eyes glowing from under his eyebrows.

Scott's hand snakes out, grabbing Stiles by the throat and slamming his head against the door. Stiles hears a stifled scream from inside. He reaches for his gun. Scott bashes him against the door again, and with his other hand grabs Stiles' wrist and twists.

Stiles gasps for air as Scott's grip tightens. He tries to pry Scott's hand off his throat. Stiles' head hammers against the door a third time. He hears glass crack. Something wet drips down the back of his neck.

Allison screams. "Scott!"

Scott lets go. Stiles drops to the floor, gasping, then grabs his gun and trains it on Scott, finger on the trigger.

Shifted back to normal, Scott stares at Stiles, his breathing ragged.

"Stiles?" he says, scared and lost, and starts to cry.

ʘ

There's about a three foot drop between the bottom of the fire escape and the ground. Allison breaks the heel off one of her boots on the way down, but she's safe.

They're all safe.

Scott helps Stiles down the ladder and hands him off to Lydia, who leans him against her borrowed squad car. No, correction: Sheriff Stilinski's squad car.

Stiles feels like he's earned a bit of petty grousing. "You brought my dad?"

"He invited himself," Lydia says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding from the head, my throat hurts, and I pointed a gun at a sixteen-year-old kid," Stiles says, trying to remain vertical.

"So that's a no?"

"I kind of want to die."

Lydia steps closer and lowers her voice so only Stiles can hear her. "Any sign of the Alpha?"

Stiles shakes his head and immediately regrets it. "Ow, ow, ow, fuck."

Lydia tips his head forward and examines the dried blood on the back of his skull. "You're going to the hospital."

"Yes, ma'am." Stiles sees Scott evade Sheriff Stilinski's attempts to keep the teenagers corralled and head their way.

"Agent Martin?" Scott says, avoiding eye contact. "Can I talk to Stiles for a second?"

Lydia nods and walks a few yards away, ostensibly out of earshot. Absolutely nothing about her posture indicates that she's eavesdropping, which means she probably is.

"I'm so sorry," Scott says, for about the fourteenth time.

"It's okay. It wasn't you. The Alpha did something to you."

"But it was," Scott says. "Or... Whatever the Alpha did. When I attacked you... I wanted to kill you."

Stiles rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Well, you didn't do a very good job." When he pulls his hands away and sees the look on Scott's face, he adds, "Sorry. That was mean. Sorry."

"The Alpha wants me to kill you. And Allison. He doesn't just want you guys dead. He wants me to do it."

Stiles tries to blink away the oncoming headache. It doesn't work. "Why?"

"I think... the Alpha needs me in his pack. But first... I need to get rid of the pack I already have. The Alpha I already have. And... that's you."

"I'm not your Alpha, Scott."

"Yes you are," Lydia calls over to them.

"Okay, maybe I'm your Alpha a little bit," Stiles concedes. He reaches over and pats Scott on the shoulder. "Go home, Scott. It's been a long night. We'll work this out."

Scott wanders back over to Allison. Stiles wobbles a bit. Lydia strides over and grabs him before he topples over. "Hospital," she says, and shoves him into the passenger seat.

When Lydia settles into the driver's seat, Stiles says, "Isn't Dad coming?"

"He's driving the jeep back to the station," Lydia explains, and starts the engine.

They're on the road when Stiles says, "I pointed a gun at Scott."

"You mentioned. Just focus on not passing out, Stiles. We'll talk about this later."

Stiles leans his head against the passenger-side window and watches the streetlights go by.