Derek has never run faster in his life. His heart is pounding, his muscles are aching, and sweat is dripping into his eyes, but he refuses to stop. Not until he gets to Stiles and makes sure that he's safe. It's been three days since Stiles went missing. Three days of constant worrying with nothing to go on other than a scrap of fabric from one of Stiles' flannels that Derek found hanging off of a tree branch in the preserve. No one in the pack has slept, instead dedicating all of their time to tracking down Stiles, with little success. However, this morning, they finally caught a lead.
It's taken every ounce of self-control that Derek has to wait for night to fall to mount a rescue mission. For all they know, Stiles could be severely injured and in need of immediate medical attention. But, despite his instincts telling him to go and protect his mate, Derek understands why they have to wait. They can't just go running in blind. They have to have a plan, especially if they want to get Stiles out of there alive.
Stiles is being held by a group of werewolves in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Apparently, the wolves that have taken Stiles were kicked out of their pack for attempted mutiny and are now looking for a territory of their own. It's likely that they kidnapped Stiles to use as a bargaining chip to get Derek to turn Beacon Hills over to them. It's unclear to Derek whether they chose Stiles because he's human, and therefore an easy target, or because of Derek's relationship with him. But, either way, they won't be leaving that warehouse alive. These rogue wolves have threatened his mate, his pack, and his territory, and Derek has no intention of showing them mercy.
Derek comes to an abrupt halt about thirty feet from the warehouse. He slips behind an old, abandoned car, eyeing the warehouse as he waits for the rest of his pack to get into position. Minutes pass, and Derek is becoming increasingly restless. His wolf is urging him to throw caution to the wind and go to Stiles now, damn the consequences. Derek resolutely ignores his instincts and sticks to the plan, knowing that running in unprepared will put Stiles in even more danger.
Another ten minutes pass when Derek finally catches Scott's scent on the other side of the large building. He pulls out his phone and waits for confirmation that everyone is in position and ready to strike. About a minute later, Derek's phone vibrates in his hand. He scrambles to unlock it and his eyes blaze red as he reads Scott's text and replies.
Scott: We're ready.
Derek: You know what to do. It's time.
Derek locks his phone and slips it into his pocket. His facial features shift and his claws extend as he settles into a crouch and slowly creeps toward the warehouse. Their reconnaissance showed no signs of guards outside the building, so he shouldn't have to worry about running into someone and raising an alarm.
Derek reaches the building and peers through a window, trying to catch a glimpse of Stiles. The wolves inside are spread throughout the room, engaged in various activities. Derek counts ten people in total, not counting Stiles. A group of three is playing what appears to be poker in the far corner of the warehouse. Four others are locked in an intense conversation about twenty feet from Derek's position. The last three are standing in the middle of the room guarding Stiles, who is kneeling on the floor, his body hunched over, keeping Derek from seeing his face. The alpha scents the air and barely suppresses a growl as he smells his mate's blood.
Movement from above catches Derek's attention and he looks up to see Scott, Allison, and Lydia crouched on one of the rafters. Derek casts a quick glance over to the other side of the building, honing in on Boyd, who is discretely watching him from the opposite window, waiting for Derek's signal. Now that everyone is in position, Derek feels his heart rate quicken anxiously as blood rushes through his ears. He takes a deep breath before nodding at Boyd and Scott in turn.
Less than a second after the signal is given, Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, burst through the metal door to the warehouse. They place themselves strategically around the room, growling and baring their fangs at Stiles' captors. The rogue wolves take up defensive positions around Stiles, blocking him from view. There are a few seconds of silence, both groups waiting for the other to make the first move. Suddenly, Scott leaps from the rafters with a guttural roar, landing solidly on top of one of the rival wolves and burying his claws deep in his stomach.
After that, all hell breaks loose. Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, leap into action, joining Scott in the fight. Allison readies her bow and takes aim, letting loose arrow after arrow in an attempt to protect her packmates that are fighting below. The gunshots from Lydia's 1911 pistol echo through the warehouse, as each wolfsbane bullet reaches its target, sending a number of the rogue wolves crashing to the ground as they howl in pain.
Once Derek is sure that the rogue wolves are thoroughly distracted, he silently opens the window and creeps into the warehouse, immediately making his way over to Stiles' slumped figure. Derek kneels beside Stiles, taking the boy's head in his hands and raising it so he can get a better look at him. Stiles looks awful. The dried blood staining his face contrasts harshly with his sickly pale skin and there is a fresh bruise marring the skin above his left eyebrow.
"Derek?" Stiles asks weakly. He coughs harshly and blood spatters the floor in front of him. Derek's worry grows as he sees the fresh blood trickling slowly from Stiles' mouth.
"Yeah, Stiles, it's me. I'm right here. I'm going to get you out of here." Derek assures as his hands begin probing Stiles' body, checking for wounds. "Where are you hurt?" He asks firmly, tapping Stiles roughly on the cheek when he receives no answer. "Stiles!"
Stiles groans, slowly peeling his eyes open, gazing at Derek with unfocused eyes. "Stomach." He slurs out, pointing to his abdomen. "They wrapped it, but I don't think it worked very well." He informs Derek.
Derek's hands shakily reach for the hem of Stiles' shirt, raising it up to reveal the blood-stained bandage underneath. Derek sucks in a breath and lets it out shakily as he assesses Stiles' condition. Stiles is coughing up blood, which indicates internal bleeding, and based on the amount of blood soaking through the bandage, the wound on his stomach is deep, and probably infected by this point.
"Okay." Derek whispers, trying to reassure himself. He looks back up at Stiles and sees that the boy's eyes are once again closed. "Stiles?" Derek taps him on the cheek again, but this time receives no response. Suddenly, Stiles slumps forward, his body thudding heavily against Derek's. "Stiles?! Stiles, wake up!" Derek yells, maneuvering Stiles so he's lying on his back, his head in Derek's lap. Derek doesn't notice when the fighting finally stops, too focussed on Stiles' labored breathing and the blood that is slowly soaking through the boy's shirt.
"Derek, what's wrong? Is Stiles okay?" Scotts questions hurriedly, running over to the pair and kneeling down beside them. When Scott notices his friend's unconscious state and the worrying amount of blood, his face pales and he chokes out a sob.
"What's going on?" Lydia asks, her shoes clicking loudly against the stone floor as she strides purposefully over to them. On the surface, she seems calm and collected, but there's an undercurrent of fear in her tone that reveals her apprehension.
"Oh, god." Erica says as she, Boyd, Isaac, and Allison come to stand behind Derek.
"He's going to be okay, right?" Isaac asks shakily, his eyes wide as he stares at Stiles' unmoving body. He receives no answer, no one willing to voice the obvious truth. Stiles isn't going to make it. His breathing is becoming more shallow and erratic as the seconds tick by, and the little color he had is quickly fading, giving his skin a ghostly pallor.
Suddenly, Stiles' breath hitches and his eyes open sluggishly. His usually intelligent, piercing gaze is glassy and distant, and although his gaze meets Derek's, Stiles seems to be looking through him.
"D-Derek?" Stiles stutters, his voice is hoarse and weak and even the wolves have to strain to hear him. "Am I going to die?"
The tears that have been threatening to spill from Derek's eyes finally fall and he has to grit his teeth to hold back the sob of agony that Stiles' question brings. His thoughts are racing. He can't let this happen. He won't. It's his job to protect Stiles and keep himself, and he'll be damned if he's going to let the love of his life die in his arms. Stiles isn't Paige, and he's not going to let his mistake with her keep him from saving Stiles.
"No." Derek says firmly, his tone taking on a rough, determined edge. "Stiles, I need you to listen to me. I can give you the bite. If it takes, it will heal you, but I need you to agree to it. I'm not going to force it on you, and I understand if you do-"
"Shut up, Sourwolf." Stiles interrupts, falling into another coughing fit. More blood appears on his lips and his face screws up in pain before he opens his eyes and refocuses his gaze on Derek. His eyes seem clearer now, determined and more alert. "Do it."
"You're sure?"
"I'm not going to leave you, Derek. If there's even a chance that the bite will take, then I want it. So, stop talking already and do it."
"Okay." Derek says, nodding, leaning in to kiss Stiles softly on the lips before his features shift and his fangs extend. Stiles winces as Derek lifts him into a sitting position, propping him up against his body. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Stiles responds with a pained chuckle. He leans his head to the side, baring his neck to the alpha. Derek takes a breath and leans forward, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Stiles' neck. Stiles hisses as Derek's fangs puncture his skin. Derek's eyes flash red for a moment before he lets go of Stiles' neck and leans back, staring expectantly at Stiles. Stiles inhales sharply before slumping back against Derek's chest as he falls unconscious.
"Did it- Did it work?" Scott asks Derek hesitantly, his eyes shimmering with hope.
Derek is silent for a moment as he lifts Stiles' shirt and begins unwrapping the soiled bandages around his abdomen. There is a collective sharp intake of breath as the severity of the wound is revealed. There are three long gashes stretching along Stiles' stomach. Claw marks if Derek were to hazard a guess. The pack stares expectantly at the wound. A minute passes, and then another. Finally, the claw marks slowly begin to knit themselves together.
"Oh, thank god." Lydia exhales, her relief evident in her tone. Erica cheers and runs over to Boyd, hugging him tightly.
"So, that means the bite took?" Scott asks, wiping the tears from his eyes as he looks over at Derek. "He's going to be okay?" Derek meets Scott's gaze and smiles.
"Yeah, he'll be alright. He's too stubborn to die, anyway." Derek jokes, making Scott burst into laughter.
"That's a fair point."
Derek looks back down at Stiles lovingly, noticing with relief that his breathing is evening out and his color is returning. Derek sighs, standing and scooping Stiles up in his arms. "Come on. We're done here." Derek says before leaving the warehouse, his pack trailing behind him.
They begin the trek back to the pack house, and after an hour's walk, they reach their destination. Derek unlocks the door and the pack files into the house. They each find a place to sit as Derek brings Stiles to his room and puts him in bed.
Derek comes back to the living room to find his pack clumped together around one of the large couches. He smiles as he takes in the sight of his pack. They've come a long way in the past few years and Derek couldn't be prouder of their progress, most of which is because of Stiles.
"I assume you all want to stay tonight?"
"If you don't mind. We want to make sure Stiles is okay." Scott replies to his alpha sheepishly.
"Of course. You're pack. Therefore, you're always welcome here. You know that." Derek replies. "The guest rooms are already made up, so you shouldn't need anything. If you do, though, just go ahead and ask. I'll be in my room." Derek turns to ascend the stairs, but stops, looking back at the group of young adults in the living room. "You all did good tonight. Thank you." Derek nods and smiles before continuing up the stairs.
Derek reaches his room and opens the door slowly, padding over to the deb and sitting on the edge. He runs his fingers through Stiles' hair and smiles fondly at his mate. Stiles stirs, his eyes opening as he groans softly.
"Hey, Der." Stiles mumbles with a smile.
"Hey. How are you feeling?" Derek asks, lowering his hand to Stiles' cheek.
"Tired, but better. Thank you, Derek." Stiles says, leaning into the touch.
"Of course, Stiles." Derek pauses for a moment, his eyes raking over Stiles' face, memorizing every detail before he speaks again. "You should get some sleep. The next few days are going to be pretty rough."
Stiles groans. "Don't remind me." Stiles chuckles and fixes his gaze upon Derek. "Are you going to join me?" He asks, his expression hopeful and expectant.
"Is that even a question?" Derek teases, laughing as he leans down to peck Stiles on the lips. Stiles giggles, lifting himself up as Derek pulls away to capture the alpha's lips in another kiss. After a moment, they pull apart and Derek stoops down to remove his shoes. Once he's stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt, he slips into bed beside Stiles, who immediately gravitates to his side, cuddling up to him with his head on Derek's chest.
"I love you, Derek Hale." Stiles mumbles before drifting off to sleep. Derek grins, leaning over to kiss Stiles' impossible mop of hair.
"I love you too, Stiles. And I'll always be here to protect you. I promise."