The young werewolf stared at the hunter pacing nervously about the room. Indecision and a touch of fear leaked off the person's skin, stung the werewolf's nose. He huddled in on himself in the corner, the farthest spot he could get from the hunter.

They were in some sort of building, with few pieces of furniture for the werewolf to hide behind, but there were also few objects that could be hurled into his face. He kept his eyes on the floor, with the hunter's boots barely at the edge of his vision. The air wasn't warm or cold, but he was still shaking.

"What's your name?"

The werewolf stared back at the hunter, but kept his mouth closed. When he opened his mouth, bad things happened to him. The hunter seemed to get more agitated, acrid disappointment clouding the room. He didn't know what the hunter wanted. The werewolf hid his face between his knees and put his hands over his head, he didn't like getting hit in the face, better to take it on the arms and shoulders.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the hunter said. He edged closer and knelt down on the floor nearby. "I'm Derek."

Derek… he wondered what Derek wanted from him. He curled up tighter, trying to get his head further down, wanted to be as small as possible. The disappointment, the agitation, it spiked harder through the air and the werewolf tensed his body up, waited for whatever would come. He hadn't done anything, but that didn't matter. The pain would come.

"We're just going to stay here in the hotel for tonight. Tomorrow morning we're going to go to a town nearby. It's called Beacon Hills. Do you know anyone there?"

It sounded familiar but the werewolf wasn't sure why. He kept quiet. That's what he'd always been told to do. A couple of years ago, he'd said something when he wasn't supposed to. It had taken a long time for his mouth to heal from the burns. He hadn't said anything since that night.

"Can you even talk?"

The werewolf shivered, he didn't want to be burned again. Sometimes the pack would trick him like that. They would tell him to do something they had told him not to. He used to be stupid enough to fall for it.

He flinched when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He waited for the spiking pain he knew would follow. A simple dislocation? Compound fractures? He didn't know what was coming, and it took everything he had to not wet himself in fear. The pack absolutely hated when he made more of a mess of himself.

The hand rubbed him soothingly, ran up over the fingers he was using to protect his head. The werewolf cringed.

"Don't take this the wrong way, guy, but you sort of smell. Maybe a shower will help you feel better. Then I'll get you some food."

The werewolf didn't move, but at the mention of food his stomach betrayed him by grumbling loudly. It had been a couple of days since he had any scraps from the rest of the pack. He was starving. He trembled when the man grabbed hold of his hands; he hated it when they broke his fingers. Those little bones were difficult to straighten out without making any noise.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Derek said, his heartbeat even and steady, "let's just get you cleaned up okay?"

How could the beat be even and steady? That would mean the hunter wasn't lying. The werewolf let Derek pull him up to his feet. He followed obediently into the other small attached room.

He almost collapsed when he saw the mirror on the wall, only Derek managed to keep him from hitting the floor, but his legs weren't capable of supporting him anymore. He couldn't stand the sight of himself. He didn't want to see the weak pathetic thing he knew would be reflected at him. After a bit of struggle, Derek managed to set him down on the toilet. Nauseating frustration tainted the clean smell of room, even when Derek took a few steps away.

"We just have the motel's complimentary bath products, but something tells me you aren't that picky."

The werewolf watched out of the corner of his eyes as Derek turned the water on. It had been a long time since he had been in a shower. When the pack wanted to clean him off they just sprayed him with a hose or threw him in a river. Well they did that when they were feeling especially kind anyway.

"OK," Derek said, gesturing towards the shower, "just get cleaned up, I'll put some clothes on the counter while you're in the shower, I'm sure I've got something that will fit you. Poorly, anyway."

The werewolf looked at the hunter's feet, didn't want to get to close to meeting Derek's eyes and having it misunderstood as a challenge. He sat still, waited for what would come next. Derek shifted nervously. The werewolf closed his eyes again.

"Seriously?"

The werewolf tried to back away, when the smallest scent of anger began to bubble up under the frustration. He heard the hunter's teeth grinding, knew that this was the moment he'd been waiting for. The werewolf put one arm out against the wall as he began to try to slide off the toilet seat to the floor, raised the other to shield his face. Cheekbones were even more painful to heal than finger bones.

No pain came. The werewolf carefully opened one eye. The hunter's feet weren't close to him. He sniffed the air, but it didn't help him understand, whatever emotion was rolling off Derek, the werewolf didn't recognize it, wasn't sure what it meant.

"I can't believe I'm going to do this," Derek said, "Stand up, I'll help you take your clothes off and get you in the shower."

A sort of toxic relief settled over the werewolf, he finally understood what the hunter wanted. Derek moved over to start up the shower, the screech the metal rings made on the curtain rod made him remember some of the most awful noises that had been dragged from him in the past.

He needed to make this easy, the easier he made it, the faster it might be over. He climbed to his feet, stood up straight so that the hunter could more easily take whatever he wanted. He kept his eyes open, but on the floor. He was never allowed to close his eyes during this. He had to watch. Anything he did to disassociate himself from the process just prolonged it.

Derek moved forward and grasped the button on his pants, so the werewolf pulled his arms behind his back, crossed his wrists behind as he was supposed to. Without chains it was going to be difficult to keep them there, depending on how long this took. What was about to happen, well… it was better than being beaten… barely… sometimes… it all depended on how rough the hunter was going to be. The edges of the werewolf's vision went out of focus, he struggled to stay standing upright and still. This couldn't be worse than being used by one of the other members of his pack. He bit into his lip hard enough that he could taste the blood in his mouth, not because he was afraid, not because he was nervous, but because the hunter might like that taste the way his pack did.

Derek removed his clothes without hurting him, which left the werewolf unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do next. Derek didn't speak, but his breathing was irregular. The only noise in the room was the pounding of the water against the floor of the shower. Derek snapped his fingers, and the werewolf understood.

He dropped to his knees in front Derek, reached out for the belt that would likely be fastened around his neck soon, after he got the hunter ready with his mouth. His hands didn't even shake, he was used to this cadence, had lived it most of his life.

Derek made an odd noise and leapt away from him, banging into the door which crashed closed. The sound of the impact made the werewolf's insides turn to ice, but he managed to not flinch away. He was never supposed to flinch away.

"No! No way! I'm not getting in the shower with you. You're getting in by yourself."

Derek's voice was higher and sharper than the werewolf had heard before. He pulled his hands back before Derek could do anything to them, which was not what he was supposed to do, and his stomach flipped, bile rising in his throat as he realized the error he'd made.

"You need to get in the shower," Derek said.

He heard the door swing open, and shuffling steps as Derek started to move away. The werewolf understood. He disgusted the hunter. He needed to clean himself for Derek, to make it easier for the hunter to stomach touching him, taking him. If he was clean, then Derek might not hurt him as badly once he was finished using him. He got off his knees and stepped into the shower.

"Finally," Derek said, smelling relieved, "just get cleaned up. I'll put the clothes on the counter for you in a few minutes."

He had been right, the human wanted him clean. The water felt wonderful on his skin. He didn't have any idea how long it had been for sure, to be allowed to have an experience like this.

The werewolf reached out to grab the small packaged bar of soap. He wanted to smell good for Derek, to be clean. If he smelled good, then Derek might not realize how disgusting he was. If he did that, then maybe he would get some food. If he made the hunter very happy, if he performed his best, then maybe Derek wouldn't hurt him as badly.

The werewolf scrubbed. He scrubbed hard enough that his skin started to turn red. If he could just get all the bad things off himself, if he could scrape all that away, then maybe Derek would want to keep him. Derek might want him if he was clean, if he was appealing.

He was afraid to hope, but he couldn't help himself. It could only happen if he was clean though. When blood started mixing with the water in the bottom of the tub the werewolf knew he was on the right track. He just had to keep scrubbing the terrible parts of himself away, there was so much to get rid of. He hurried, blood running down his body as he scrubbed himself viciously. Derek had said he would be back in just a few minutes…