Title: Light it up

Word of the day: writhe

Sequel to Lackadaisical (Hunters beware)

...

Stiles glared at his captors. They didn't seem affected by his glare and it was just as frustrating as being zip tied to an old rusty chair. They'd kept his hands separated, each limb tied to an armrest, and each of his legs tied to the front of the chair. They'd certainly gone overboard with the restraints, but considering he'd managed to writhe out of the original rope they'd tied him with and had subsequently kicked one of his captors in the face, Stiles wasn't overly surprised at their desperate need to save face.

He had been beaten, bruised, and bloodied by each of the three captors in turn, a gleeful expression on their twisted faces, and now he sat there limply with a black eye and a swollen lip behind duct tape. Wolfsbane tasted bitter in his throat, and he hated that almost as much as the rest of this; at being kidnapped again.

"You're sure he's gonna come alone?" one of his captors asked, looking over at Stiles, as though trying to determine whether he was worth their demands or Derek's trouble.

"I'm sure, Owen. He wouldn't let his precious pack-mate get killed. Unless he's the kind of Alpha to fuck and leave you behind, hmm?" Elle asked, laughing cruelly.

Stiles' response - an emphatic fuck you - was muffled and lost behind the rag and gag combo. He had no idea where the rag had been before they'd unceremoniously stuffed it into his mouth, and he just hoped that the awful tastes trickling down his throat were from his own saliva. The scent of duct tape was just as bad, glue and rubbery material adding to the sensations, and none of them pleasant. Even with the moisture and sweat that was building and the blood on his lip, Stiles knew it was going to hurt like a bitch when it was pulled off later.

"Got something to say, you little twink fuck?" Elle snapped, steel glinting in the bright light as she pulled out her switchblade.

"Aw, fuck yes! Slice that dog fucker up!" Owen egged Elle on, laughing with his twin Kaye, both watching eagerly.

Elle looked lethal and dangerous and any number of words that led to her carving Stiles up like a turkey, a smile on her face that promised pain and blood. He had no doubt she'd enjoy every second of it, and swallowed hard. The sound of a howl outside had her pausing, but her smile didn't change. "Saved by the bitch, hmm?"

Stiles felt his heart leap into his throat, knowing without a doubt that Derek was outside, and he ached with the need to warn him away.

Kaye raced to the window, her eyes widening when she saw the wolf outside of the warehouse. "Holy fuck, look at the size of that thing. We're getting so much money for that pelt," she said eagerly, grabbing a gun from the doorway and loading wolfsbane bullets.

"It's not about the money, Kaye," Elle snapped.

"It's kinda about the money," Owen replied, grinning at his twin.

Elle looked like she wanted to bury the switchblade in Owen instead of - or perhaps as well as - Stiles, but rolled her shoulders and headed towards the small office's door. "Get into position, Kaye. Owen, you keep an eye on the twink. Don't do anything stupid."

Owen scowled after her and then sat in a chair opposite Stiles, his mouth set in a petulant frown. Stiles raised an eyebrow at the sight of a grown man pouting like a child, and Owen's nostrils flared at the obvious insult, his face turning red with anger. "You got something to say to me, dog fucker?"

Stiles shrugged and closed his eyes, as though bored with the conversation and his kidnapping. He was certainly bored of the insult; it had basically lost all meaning with the amount of times Owen had said it.

"Well... I don't care what you've got to say, anyway."

"Shut it, Owen," Kaye hissed from the window, the gun resting on the windowsill.

"Whatever."

Eyes still closed, Stiles started tapping his fingers on the chair's armrests. He tapped an easy rhythm, a song he'd heard in the kidnapper's van on the way to this warehouse, and around the disgusting rag and worse taste in his mouth, he hummed the tune awkwardly.

"What the fuck? Shut up! Shut him up!" Kaye snapped, glaring at her twin.

Owen gave a 'what the fuck do I do?' motion with his hands, gesturing to where Stiles was still tied and gagged.

"Think of something! Oh, shit, the shot - "

Stiles' humming got louder still, and he opened his eyes just in time to see Owen coming at him with a broken chair leg. He tensed and then swung the chair back, teetering on two legs for a breathless second before toppling back onto the floor. The new position made it easy for Stiles to slip his zip tied ankles off the chair's legs, turning the two bare and rusted metal legs into stakes. Owen's eyes widened and he tried to stop, but his momentum propelled him forward and he fell onto one of the rusted legs right as Kaye took her shot.

Looking up at the ceiling and hearing the laboured breaths as Owen fought not to take his last breath, Stiles grinned around the rag and behind duct tape. He listened intently, past the ringing of the shotgun in his ears, past the sound of Owen's final breath, and heard another howl.

"Fuck, I missed! Where did he... Owen? Owen!" Kaye cried out, running over.

Tensing his muscles because he knew this was going to hurt worse than being beaten by three people over several hours, Stiles wrenched and tore the armrests off the chair, his arms and body protesting at the action. He rolled his aching and bruised body over onto the concrete floor, standing in a fluid motion that he knew he'd feel later. Pulling the duct tape off his mouth - it hurt just as much as he'd expected - Stiles ignored Kaye's inarticulate shout of rage, spitting out the foul rag beside Owen's dead body.

Tears of anger and sadness mixed and blurred her sight, but Kaye didn't miss the fact that the rag was now stained yellow. It had been white when it went in, the stark difference in colour not making sense for a long moment. Still on her knees, she looked up at Stiles, tears spilling down her cheeks as he looked back down at her with blue eyes and a fanged grin.

Even as comprehension started to dawn, her unspoken suspicion that they'd taken the Alpha's companion far too easily, Kaye saw that his black eye was fading and the bloodied cuts and welts were starting to heal. "You're... you're meant to be human."

"So are you, you monster."

Stiles didn't hesitate, didn't wait for regret or pleads, didn't bother to explain or monologue, and ripped his clawed hands across her throat. With little ceremony and nothing more than a soft gasp, Kaye died beside her brother. Blood gushed warm across his palm and fingertips, and Stiles wiped them off absentmindedly as he headed for Kaye's gun. After doing a double tap on both siblings, Stiles left the office and headed outside, a free and slowly healing man. Sort of. He walked out of the warehouse to find Derek leading Elle on a merry chase, and grinned at the sight.

"You fucking animal - "

"You ready, Der? I'm all done," Stiles called, even as Elle whipped around to face him, surprise etched in her every feature.

The shot rang in his ears even louder now that the wolfsbane had finally worn off, but it was worth it to see Elle going down like a sack of potatoes, her whole body jerking with the force of the bullet's impact. The only shame was that he hadn't killed her with the shot. Stiles walked over to where she was writhing on the ground, her eyes burning with hate and her scent filled with fear.

"Next time, you can be the one to suck on wolfsbane petals and get tortured, okay?" Stiles called to his Alpha, though they both knew he'd volunteered and would again.

Derek walked over, human once more, and grinned down at Elle with red eyes. "Rumour has it, you know where Zee is."

Elle's eyes widened at the name. "Fuck you."

"Not even if you paid me. Now talk, L," Derek snarled, digging his clawed hand into the bullet wound.

Just like H and T before her, she talked soon enough. Elle only knew a rumour of Z's location, but promised that R knew where Z lived - they were related, after all - and gave up R's location as she died with a whimper.

"Think Z's really going to be the end of this?" Stiles asked, a question they'd both asked many times since they'd started their hunt almost two years ago.

"Probably not; there's always people willing to hunt and hurt people like us," Derek replied, the truth as bitter as wolfsbane on his tongue. "Ready to set this place on fire?" he asked, heading back to the gate where he'd left the fuel canisters.

Stiles grinned and took out D's old Zippo. "Let's light it up."

...

Captors: Kaye is K, Elle is L, and Owen is ON.

The end.

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!