The Weight

Derek, Peter, and Aiden exited the tunnels in the basement of the hospital. Thankful the thing came out into a large unpopulated room that was seemingly being used for storage.

Pushing the wall back into place, they skirted around the scattered pieces of decade old equipment and boxes and headed for the corridor.

"You stay here." Derek ordered Aiden, then nodded for Peter to follow him up to the first floor.

The corridor was busy when they arrived, nurses and patients scurrying around, still in chaos in the wake of the blackout. It seemed that fear and paranoia had driven some of the residents of Beacon Hills to head to the Hospital.

As the pair weaved their way through the havoc towards the Sheriff's room, Derek heard fragments of conversations. People fearing they'd been exposed to something or other. Some whispering about the town being quarantined. Panic was taking hold as they inched towards dawn. Part of Derek was grateful for the madness, it would mean they might be able to slip away with John and the others, without being noticed.

That moment of calm vanished quickly, however. Getting closer to the room, Derek instantly registered the quickening heartbeats, as well as two slower unfamiliar ones. He exchanged a look with Peter, who's eyes were already burning electric blue. Glancing down, he noted Peter's claws were out.

They paused outside the door, listening. Derek took a deep breath before reaching for the door.

"1..." He mouthed. "2..."

Peter gritted his teeth in preparation for the attack. Instead of 3, Derek simply though the door, Peter swiftly following. It fell closed behind them as Derek and Peter flung themselves at the two suited men.

One went down easily. His human body crumbling beneath Peter's furious onslaught. The other man put up more of a fight and it was almost too much for Derek. If he'd been alone, he might very well have been in serious trouble. Luckily, he wasn't, and the moment Peter had dispatched his opponent, he turned his focus to Derek.

The stranger wasn't simply well trained, he had a supernatural strength, but even the supernatural can be outnumbered. And once Stiles joined the fray, the man had no chance but to break free and escape.

Peter moved to go after him, but Derek stalled him. "Find Melissa and get her to take you to any of the surviving family members."

"There are two more." Lydia informed them.

"We need to get everyone out of here before he comes back with reinforcements." Derek said breathlessly.

With a brief look to Lydia, Peter yanked open the door and vanished. Stiles looked across a Derek, frowning and worried. "Dad can't leave." He waved a hand at his unconscious father and the machines he'd been connected to.

Stepping over to the bedside, Derek looked down at John's pale features. The beep, beep of the heart monitor filling the strained silence. Peter's words returning, conjuring the memories of Paige. Inhaling deeply, Derek licked anxiously at his lips and closed his eyes for a second, bracing himself for a decision he didn't want to make, and the possible outcome of it. "We have to, it's not safe here." He said quietly. Uncertainly who exactly he was speaking to.

He heard Stiles open his mouth to argue and Derek found the choice had been made, "We have no idea what causing this." He opened his eyes finally and gesturing to John's prone body. "Or what effect the bite will have."

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, lips pressed into a long line.

"He could die." Derek made absolutely clear.

"He'll die anyway." Stiles whispered around the lump in his throat.

Derek exhaled, his shoulders slumping. Part of him had hoped Stiles had changed his mind. "And if he doesn't, he might never forgive me."

Stiles worried features shifted to a small encouraging smile, "If it means he can eat stake again and not have to worry about Rheumatism, he'll get over it."

Derek wasn't so sure. - Also, "We can still get Rheumatism. My grandmother had it."

Stiles exhaled a soft huff of amusement, "two out of three ain't bad."

"Two?"

"He's alive and can eat meat. - It's a win."

Derek nodded, "If it works."

The pressure of Stiles hand on his arm, had Derek his stomach reeling. There was such hope in Stiles voice. Derek wished he shared it. John was so much older than most bitten wolves and dying to boot. His body might already be too damaged to accept the bite. It could all be for nothing. Then Stiles will blame him.

Stiles stepped closer, slipping his hand into Derek's, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I won't blame you" He said softly. "You don't have to do it. I understand. I - Derek..."

Derek's heart tightened and he closed his eyes once more, unwilling to look at the man beside him.

"I'm sorry." Stiles whispered, moving closer to Derek's side, "I'm just..." he trailed off, swallowing thickly with tears filling his eyes. "I shouldn't have..."

Derek squeezed Stiles fingers. "I just don't want to lose you if it doesn't work."

Stiles tugged on his arm insistently, until Derek turned to look at him. "You won't." He said, voice breaking. "I swear."

Derek listened to Stiles heart and was surprised when he didn't hear a change in the rhythm. - Of course, that just meant that Stiles believed the lie. That he genuinely didn't think he'd blame Derek. Not that it wouldn't happen after the fact.

The fact was, it didn't matter, one way or the other. The chance had to be taken. Not just for Stiles, but for them all. Inhaling deeply, Derek took his fingers from Stiles tight grip and pulled back the covers. His heart was racing a mile-a-minute as he lifted the Sheriff's arm. Across the bed stood Lydia, watching him with worried but reassuring eyes, and an encouraging smile.

Extending his teeth, Derek took a deep breath and leant forward.

_(*-*)_

Stiles heart was pounding in his ears as he watched Derek's teeth sink into his father's flesh. There was also a sour taste at the back of his throat. He knew the flavour, it had been a constant companion for years, to varying degrees. Guilt.

Guilt that he was dooming his father to a life of full moons, mood swings and always waiting for hunters to come looking.

Guilt that he'd pushed Derek to give his dad the bite, even though it went against everything he believed. What if Derek was right? What if his dad woke up and did hated them? Would his dad blame Derek? Would that cause Derek to hate him? He should never have pushed for this.

And what if it didn't work? What if after pushing Derek into giving the bite, it ultimately proved worthless and his dad died anyway? How would Derek ever forgive him? How would Stiles forgive himself?

The seconds seemed to drag on and on, then finally Derek pulled back. There was blood smeared in the corners of his mouth, and Stiles found himself just staring at it.

He didn't know what he expected to happen. His dad to shoot up on the bed and start whistling Dixie?

The room was eerily silent for a few seconds. Only broken by Lydia clearing her throat and handing Derek a tissue from the box next to the bed.

He took it and turned away from Stiles. "It'll take a while." He said, his voice muffled as he wiped his mouth. "Maybe longer because he's sick." Finally, Derek turned back, the tissue balled up in his first and his lips clear. "But we can't hang around here." He glanced meaningfully towards the door.

"I'll fetch a wheelchair." Lydia said helpfully, and rushed away, leaving them alone, but for his still unconscious father.

Stiles slipped his hands into his pockets and inhaled deeply, "Thanks." He said quietly, gaze dropping to his shoes. "I know that was hard."

Derek grunted, "It's fine." His tone however said it was anything but.

Stiles looked up and found Derek staring down at his dad. Instantly a huge black hole opened in his gut. He'd been selfish. He was always selfish, only this time, it might have cost him the best thing he had in his life.

A few seconds of strained silent was finally shattered by the door clattering open, and Lydia wheeling in a chair. "Come on, let's move it." She barked in a husky tone.

Stiles turned back to the bed to see Derek yanking blankets and wires off his dad. Stiles stepped forward to help, but Derek already had his arms under the man, lifting him off the bed and carrying him to the chair. Stiles felt useless.

With his dad seated, Lydia swivelled the chair around and Derek hurried for the door. It took Stiles a moment to get with the program, but then he grabbed his and his dad's things, and hurried after the pair.

Surprisingly, no one paid them any mind as Lydia pushed the chair through the corridor towards the stairs. Once there, Derek shoved open the door and Lydia pushed the wheelchair through. Derek heaved the sheriff onto his shoulder and looked at Stiles and Lydia. "Let's go."

"What about Peter?" Lydia demanded.

"He'll meet us at the tunnel." Derek said from the bottom of the first set of stairs. Then he headed off at a quick pace, shifting the older man's weigh on his shoulder. Stiles looked to Lydia for reassurance, that she gave willingly, and they took off after Derek.

Breathlessly they reached the basement, his dad still flung over Derek's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A few more feet and they slipped into a large storage room. Derek dropped his dad on an old hospital bed and looked to the twin who was sat lazily in a rackety wheelchair. "Get the door open, Peter shouldn't be long."

Stiles hurried over to his father, pressing a hand to his forehead, and checking his pulse. It was still weak, but the fever seemed to be easing. The knot in his stomach slowly loosened and he took his first real breath in hours.

Of course, he knew his dad wasn't out of the woods by any means, but he was feeling less fearful. Looking over, he watched as Derek peered out of the storeroom door, brows creased with worry and agitation.

Licking his lips and swallowing thickly, he gestured to Lydia to take his place at his father's side. She gave a small nod and stepped up, looking down at the old man with soft caring eyes, her hand wrapping around his. Stiles' chest tightened at the sight.

Slow and quiet, he made his way over to Derek. "Thank you." He whispered, but the man said nothing, his eyes fixed on the corridor beyond the room. Stiles exhaled and slumped back against the wall next to him, his arms behind his back and his chin resting on his chest. A suffocating silence settled between them, like never before and Stiles felt tears swelling in his eyes, forcing him to close them. He could feel his heart shattering, slicing him open.

For months he'd fantasies about returning home. Getting back to his dad and Derek. He never could have imagined this nightmare scenario.

Stiles jumped slightly when fingers his forearm, squeezing lightly. Opening his eyes, he turned to find Derek was still staring impatiently out at the corridor, but his arm was stretch out, holding Stiles.

Inhaling deeply, Stiles grabbed at the thread of hope. Perhaps things weren't completely ruined. Moving his arm from behind him, he shifted so he could take the other man's hand. "Derek...I..."

Before he could speak, apologise again, Derek's hand was gone, and the door was being yanked open.

"I could only grab these guys." Peter said hurriedly, "The others were too sick."

Derek looked down at the child, his stomach twisting. He exhaled a long breath and nodded, waving towards the tunnel.

"I heard soldiers as I passed the first floor."

"Fuck." Derek swore frantically, "It won't take them long to find us. Go."

Peter and a cautious Melissa hurried towards the entrance, both carrying two small children in their arms, while a teenager boy and the girl Stiles had seen earlier in the corridor reluctantly followed them.

Stiles raced over to his dad, giving him another once over as Derek shoved a large filing cabinet in front of the door. Then the Alpha was at his side, lifting the Sheriff back over his shoulder.

"Move." He ordered Stiles, who didn't even hesitate.

The twin was the last one through the opening, dragging it closed behind him.

"As quickly as you can." Derek said frantically, "We can't set off the explosives until we're back at the Nemeton."

"Explosives?" Stiles gasped, looking around and seeing the small packs of C4.

It was a long trek through the tunnels, the heavy stench of damp making the air sickly. The children were crying, terrified no doubt. Stiles could hear Melissa trying to comfort a little girl who was calling for her mother. It broke Stiles heart, remembering the loss of his own mother. If only she could understand that it was for their own good. That Manticore wanted them dead.

"Where are you taking us." The teenager snapped, his voice hard and angry, but tinged with fear.

"Somewhere safe." Derek grunted.

The boy scoffed, pulling who Stiles assumed was his sister, closer to him.

"I know this is all insane and scary, but you have to trust us." Stiles said, "There are people after us. You too. And they're dangerous."

The teen looked at Stiles disbelievingly, his eyes flickering past him to Derek. Stiles turned, recognising how bad it looked for Derek to be carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder. Turning back, he smiled. "I know he looks scary, but really, he's a pussycat under neither the drama brows. - And that's my dad. He... - I'm Stiles." He held out his hand, "Stiles Stilinski."

The teenager stopped, turning fully to face him. "You're..." His eyes flickered back to Derek and the unconscious Sheriff. "That means..."

"Yeah." Stiles nodded, "And this is my boyfriend Derek. I swear, you're safe with us. Safer than you would be back at the hospital. I'm sorry about your..." He glanced down at the little girl. "I'm sorry about your parents. I swear, we'd have brought them..."

"Stiles." Derek growled.

"Wait." Stiles snapped, shooting the Alpha a warning look, before turning back to the teenager. "We've have brought them too, but we down have time or manpower." He gestured to their small group. And I'm pretty sure they'd want you to be safe first."

The guy lowered his eyes, "My dad died." He said, voices breaking, "And our mom."

"I know."

There was a long silence, before the teenager looked up, meeting Stiles eyes. "Brett. - Brett Talbot."

"It's nice to meet you Brett." Stiles smiled. "No, we need to get going, and huh...try not to freak out okay. Thinks are about to get super weird, but I swear on my mother's grave, we're the good guys."

Stiles wasn't sure if the guy believed him, or was willing to trust them quiet yet, but Brett did give a sharp nod and turned, lifting his little sister, and hurrying off to catch up with the others.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked back to find Derek looking at him with a small grateful smile. Stiles returned it, then started walking again.

But the time they reached the large central cavern, they could hear hurried footsteps approaching behind them. It wouldn't be long before they were bursting through.

"Get down and cover your ears." Derek ordered, dumping the Sheriff across the Nemeton.

Stiles hurried over to his dad, draping himself across the man while Lydia, Peter and Brett ducked down behind the tree stump with the smaller children. All of them covering their heads over.

Stiles turned his head to look over his shoulder, hands still firmly over his ears, and watched as Derek riffled in his pocket. He pulled out a small black box and flicked at the safety before waving for the twin to get back.

Pressing his back to the stone wall, Derek turned his head away from the entrance and squeezed his eyes closed before pushing down on the red button. A huge explosion echoed through the small space and Stiles dropped his face to his father's chest as debris was spat out of the tunnel to coat them all is dust.