Chapter 02: A vampire bar is a great place for werewolves.

Scott II

Scott doesn't know what to make of Derek Hale.

"Stilinski sent me to make sure you're not bonded to the Alpha." Derek says as he throws Scott's lacrosse stick, he'd used to attack the werewolf with, on his bed.

And how do you reply to that?

"That's great, uh Derek, but couldn't it have waited a few hours?" Scott's exhausted and he really wants some sleep on everything that happened yesterday night. Another werewolf wasn't on his list of wishes.

"Sit."

Scott sits at the command and Derek tilts his head to the side and glares at him. "Stop being afraid."

Like that's easy after he saw what one werewolf could do. "I'm not afraid." Derek snorts but doesn't say anything further. So, Scott waits for what the werewolf is going to do, but he's just standing before him, staring. "Is something supposed to happen?"

Derek's eyes roll, "Quiet, I'm feeling for the pack bond."

Right, whatever the hell that is. Scott thinks somewhat sarcastically and smooths out wrinkles in his bedding to pass time. The shallow cuts on his hands are closing, that's good, but he should probably do something with the larger ones. He didn't even wash his scratches and scrapes, mom would be disappointed.

"It's there." Derek says and doesn't elaborate.

"Should I be feeling something?"

Derek scoffs, like Scott's dirt under his shoe. The dirt he's dragged into Scott's room. "No, not when you haven't accepted it."

"But you said the Alpha werewolf forced it on me? Wouldn't it make it useless?" Scott's shooting blindfolded at this point, he really has no idea what he's talking about, but he's watched shows and played games with supernatural things in them. So, he feels he does have a chance.

"Another Alpha can't create a bond with someone bonded and the current Alpha gets something from it if you're close enough anyway. Now concentrate, feel the bond and disconnect it."

"How am I supposed to do that!? I'm not a freaking werewolf!" Scott whispers harshly, he wants to shout, to protest, to be difficult.

He's had a shit night.

But it would wake his mom.

"Feel."

So Scott closes his eyes and feels around for whatever it is Derek wants him to feel. Everything feels normal, his limbs, heartbeat, fingers, everything. He's about to tell Derek that he must have felt wrong because Scott can't feel anything. But then he feels it.

Like a clawed hand reaching all the way around him, keeping him down on the bed, unable to move with the sensation of piercing red eyes behind him. Waiting for a twitch of a finger so it can attack. There are broken chains over him but they're not holding him in place like the hand, they're wrapping around Scott and the presence of the Alpha. It's not holding on him in a death grip filled with anger, but with desperation, like Stiles had once held Scott after his mom had died.

One of despair.

Scott could never have let go of Stiles that day, even when the hug began hurting. He wants to hug back, to embrace the feeling to comfort and heal.

But it's not the same, he tells himself as the werewolf behind him becomes like Stiles in his head. It's not Stiles, it's a murderer who killed a girl and is killing Stiles' dad.

Scott rips at the hand, tearing and biting. The hand recoils but goes deeper when it comes back, tightening it's hug on him as Scott struggles against it. His heart smashes in his chest, making him breathless as he's squeezed by the presence. Scott hates it. Hates how it could try and force Scott to bond with it. How it would use Stiles to gain control of him. That it bit Stilinski.

Most of all because it's a dangerous monster.

The hand flinches away and Scott is sucked into his room, gasping over his bed. He ignores Derek who's staring at him and grapples for his inhaler. He's only able to breathe again after a few puffs, his lungs too weak to bring enough down to them in one go.

"Being bitten would have stopped that." He says, and it feels mocking.

"I don't want to be a werewolf." Scott says and Derek snorts.

"You're actually telling the truth." Derek tilts his and looks at him with disdain but shrugs and goes for his window.

"That's it?" Scott asks and Derek just nods and leaps out, landing with a soft thud out in the grass.

Scott feels strangely empty as he watches the werewolf run away in the streetlights.

Derek I

"Where are we going?" Stiles grins as he slips into the passenger seat of Derek's car and throws his backpack into the back seat. Derek scowls and pushes at Stiles' shoulder, pushing him back out the door.

"You're not coming," Derek says and Stiles just jumps right back into the car with an unapologetic grin. Derek's eyes flash with blue and he growls at the defiance, "Get out."

Stiles makes a face. "No, we're helping each other remember? It includes the excruciatingly hard tasks of telling where you're going. Sharing is caring as they say."

Derek glowers at him and turns away to fiddle with the grey GPS that bleeps as he turns it on. "Go to school." it's 8 Am and Stiles and his overpacked square backpack should be far away from Derek, letting him work alone. Like he prefers.

"Nah," Stiles says unfazed by the glare Derek sends and looks at the address he's is typing into the GPS. Stiles grins in the corner of his eye, mischievous, "Besides, you're not going to find The Cerise that way, the GPS is going to take you there. But you won't find it, dude."

"Don't call me that." Derek says automatically and puts the GPS down, he looks over at Stiles.

"It's a supernatural bar, of course it's not going to be there. The address is right but it's enchanted- like Harry Potter- kinda- no, not now that I think about it. You can only find it if you know where it is, if you know the name, and is willingly let in the first time by someone who has been there before. Since it's four years old, you couldn't have visited before, and lucky you. I have."

Derek stares at him and reluctantly turns on his car as Stiles shuts his door. "You just said it wasn't on any maps."

"Maps," Stiles says with a slight pause. "Doesn't mean it has no address, your GPS would just tell you there's no Cerise there, it'll get confused and lead you somewhere else."

Derek growls softly but follows Stiles' directions without complaint besides the occasional, "Shut up." When Stiles talks a bit too fast, talking about too many things. He heard the words cats and reproduction used once and did his best to tune Stiles out. It wasn't as effective as he wanted.

They stop by a normal looking clothes store, outside the windows is a sign saying, 'Clothes for the normal!' the text is accompanied by artful drawings of people doing normal stuff like reading and cooking. The building is white and squished between a small bar and a restaurant on the other side of an alley. The sign over the door of the shop says its name is The Crimson.

Derek looks over at Stiles and tries desperately to remove the image of cat's reproductive systems from his mind as he wonders why the front would have a name so similar to the real one. The teen is grinning smugly as he goes, and stands too close to him, holding out his hand.

"Give me your hand," He says like he's getting a bag of chocolate and not claws in his eyes. "I know it's so awkward." Derek would trust his words if not for the shit eating grin on the kitsune's face.

Derek reluctantly gives his hand and ignores that the physical contact feels good.

It's just another part of his werewolf instinct.

Something he can ignore.

Then the store changes, slowly, like a Rube Goldberg machine. Where the outside was white before, it's bleeding a deep red that stands out among the other shops and bars lining the street. The sign out front flows over images until the people doing normal activities are replaced by supernaturals hiding out in their natural environments. The rows of clothes inside the store fall over one after another and reveal tables, sofas, chairs and a bar in the far end. The windows tones red to shield those inside from the sun.

The sign above the door says The Cerise.

Stiles releases his hand, "So, you might not be too agreeable with this place." he says, looking up at him with a snicker in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Well," Stiles says somewhat smugly, "werewolves have some of the strongest senses, all five of them are the cutting edge. At least that's what I've heard, but I'm not going to ask if your palms are more sensitive in wolf form than regular human form."

"You just did." Derek points out and Stiles makes a face like Derek is the strangest thing in the world.

"Come on dude!" He wines.

Derek stares at him, there's something wrong with that kid, or maybe all teenagers are like that now. "...They do feel more." he admits and Stiles lights up with childish delight, it's a good look on him.

"That's so cool."

Derek snorts, "Say that again when you're the werewolf doing the dishes." because that can be very unpleasant, other things are just as unpleasant, like touching anything burnt. Werewolves can, if they practice enough, see shapes almost perfectly with their hands. Derek has once heard of a blind Alpha who could touch the cheek or an arm of one of his pack and determine who was who by the texture of their skin.

Stiles makes a face of disgust. "That's disgusting Derek," he says and stalks towards the door, it takes Derek a lot of willpower not to grab Stiles hand again. "I know the bartender. He's a Vampire- so no werewolf superiority okay? Be chill or you'll get kicked. His name is Vlad- I know, stereotypes, right?"

"Okay." Derek replies with a faint nod and shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks down the street as Stiles pushes the door open in front of him and a faint bell tingles, it's just faint enough that the supernaturals inside aren't disturbed by it. Every human on the street seem to notice the bar, but none of them show interest in coming in. The room inside is abuzz with talk, and the seats are packed with supernatural creatures, mermaids, vampires, centaurs, manticores, there is even a shifted unicorn, and at least five other species; Derek has never seen so many creatures in one place without fighting. When both Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski had told him that Beacon Hills had changed, Derek hadn't thought much about it, but with the evidence right in front of him, it was hard to ignore how the town had prospered. Not even New York has as a diverse population of supernaturals, despite there being very few to no hunters in the city.

Stiles leads him to the bar where a pale man with orange eyes stands drying a glass, he's dressed in a dark red form-fitted suit and his teeth are visibly pointed as he talks. "Hello Stiles," He says smoothly as he sees the kitsune, his voice has an accent to it Derek has never heard before and the words are pronounced oddly despite the elegance in his voice. "The regular?" He asks and leaves to find whatever the regular is before Stiles can even reply.

"Come on sit Derek." Stiles says as he sits down a stool from a blonde vampire. He has no heartbeat, setting Derek on edge.

Derek glowers at him but does sit down on the stool beside Stiles, the seats are weirdly comfortable like they were made for him specifically.

The bartender comes back with a glass of orange juice and places it down in front of Stiles who takes it happily. The vampire turns to Derek with an uninterested glance, "And who are you? My name is Vlad, I am the bartender and owner of The Cerise. Welcome, what can I get you?"

"We need information." Stiles says for him with a nod, and a somewhat goofy smile on his face, as he doesn't reveal who Derek is.

Making it Derek's decision.

"Oh?" Vlad looks interested then and he puts down the glass in his hand. "Information? Of course, everything here has a price, but tell me and I will tell you what I want in return." The vampire's eyes gleam predatorily as he stares at Derek.

"Laura Hale," Derek says after a few seconds. "She came here some weeks ago, I need to know why."

Vlad nods, his eyes gleaming with thoughts.

"Awww! The mutt lost his Alpha bitch, didn't he?! Do we need to call animal service?" The blonde and red-eyed vampire sitting a stool from Stiles sneer gleefully. The vampire lean over and pushes Stiles back to better see Derek. Stiles squeaks and he almost falls off his stool but manages to grab the seat to steady himself. Derek growls at the vampire and fists his claws. They retract.

"You need a bone to gnaw on? Unfortunately, the skeletons left a bit ago-"

The vampire stops his rant with a yelp as the bartender casually pours some water onto his hand. The hand sizzles under the water and splinters, burning the skin away. On the small bottle in Vlad's hand, it says Holy water. "Please do not be rude to other guests, the bathroom is that way," Vlad says with a cold gaze and points the bottle in the direction of a door that leads to the bathroom.

The vampire hisses, his face changing as he turns to Vlad with his teeth out. Vlad blinks and splashes more holy water on the vampire and his face blisters, streaming with burns. "Leave," Vlad says and the vampire complies this time. Sulking out.

The whole bar is silent, all eyes are on the three of them as Stiles ducks his head and slurps annoyingly on his juice. "Sorry about that. Fights are common and I prefer to deal with them peacefully." Vlad says and puts the bottle back under the counter.

That was peaceful?

Conversation starts up among the supernaturals again. A group is still starring, they're all vampires with blood red eyes that gleam with anger. There is no scent, heartbeat to tell what they're thinking behind those eyes.

"Awesome." Stiles whispers in awe and sips at his juice as he stares at the spot the vampire had been sitting with what Derek can only decipher as hunger.

Vlad pats Stiles on his head like you would a pet and looks at Derek. "Laura Hale right?" he asks and Derek nods. "She was here Thursday asking around for the group who had volunteered to protect her uncle. From my understanding she did not find anything on that end, but I will write down the names for you just in case. She also talked to a magic-kind, but they were disguised with magic." Vlad makes an offhand gesture and shrugs before leaning over to get closer to Derek, his orange eyes sharp.

"She did, however, talk with several customers about the Hale fire and the hunters that stayed here six years ago," Vlad stops speaking and fishes a small piece of paper from underneath the counter. He draws a form with symbols around it before finishing with an uneven line around it. Derek flinched when Vlad turned it to him, recognising the symbol. "She was looking for someone with a pendant like this."

"Okay." Derek says, voice rough and Vlad turns the drawing away and began putting down names beside it. Good, that gives Derek more to go off.

Vlad points at one row of names and then the next. "These were involved in protecting Peter Hale and these were the other people Laura had been looking for."

"Okay." Derek says again and practically jumps from his seat as he grabs the paper.

Vlad's hand is on Derek's arm in an instant and Derek growls. "You still owe me, information is not free," Vlad says, trapping Derek by not setting his price before giving out the information. He let's go, leaning back away from the counter. "Is Laura Hale dead?" He asks invasively.

Derek fights the urge to gut the vampire and growls out a, "Yes."

"Did you kill her?" He asks next. Stiles gulps down the last of his juice and pushes the empty glass away.

"No. Why do you think I'm here?" he snarls.

Vlad holds up his hands. "No need to be aggressive," He says in what is supposed to be calming but Derek just wants to kill the vampire more. The anger he feels let's him centre himself and withdraw his claws. "Why is Stiles here and not in school? Better yet, why did the Protector not show you the Cerise himself?" it takes Derek a small moment to realise the vampire is talking about Stilinski, the supernatural protectors are usually called Guardians.

Stiles freezes in his spot. "Hey! I have all the qualifications to show him this place, besides dad's busy with work. And I have something I want too."

"I see," Vlad says and nods while Derek glances at the Kitsune confused.

"is there anywhere to get books on blood magic, sacrificial magic, and-" Stiles begins flippantly like he doesn't know the horror of what he's asking.

"-That is dark magic, Stiles," Vlad says quietly with an edge sharp enough to cut and glances from Stiles to Derek in a split second before focusing on Stiles, connecting something in his mind. "this is very unlike you."

"Look- do you have anything or not? It's not like I'm going to use them." Stiles lies smoothly with a pitch in his face.

Derek doesn't care if Stiles does dark magic if it will help him get the Alpha and revenge for his sister. The more power at Derek's side the better. And the part of his consciousness that tells him it's a bad idea, that's Stiles is just a kid, is easily squashed.

"I do," Vlad confirms, as he looks at Derek as if he could read his thoughts. Like he wanted Derek to tell Stiles not to do dark magic. Derek didn't even know kitsune could use magic. "Is the Protector dying?"

Stiles' jaw clench visibly. "Yes," he says.

"Your mother and her apprentice had a few dark spell books and grimoires they took off criminals. I assume you do not want a meeting with Grey, so I suggest looking into your mother's old things."

"Thanks for nothing-" Stiles says and slips from the stool, "Come on, let's leave." he says to Derek who is just happy to be leaving, the stares of the odd supernatural is getting to him.

"What would your mother think Stiles?" Vlad says behind them and Stiles jerks to a stop like he'd been slapped.

Stiles turns and blinks at the vampire. "That I'm looking into dark magic so I can defend against it."

"If that is all, you may leave. Unless you want a drink?" Vlad says after a beat and gestures to the bar and the rows of various kinds of alcohol behind him, some human some supernatural and some bottles smell like they have fermented blood in them. Stiles shakes his head and heads for the door, seemingly just as happy as Derek is to leave.

"What was that?" Derek asks when they're outside again.

"There are books in my mom's old collection," Stiles says and grins against the sharp sunlight. "The bastard."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Is your mother a bastard?" he asks before he can stop himself.

Stiles laughs and tugs along the street as he begins talking.

Derek goes to follow when a hand snaps out and flicks Derek to the side, throwing him into an alley by the bar. He crashes into a dumpster head first and topples it over, spilling trash over the ground. His head swims as he looks up at the blurry figure that throws Stiles to the ground next to him. The red hoodie is easy to pick out in the shade of the trash bags Stiles is clumsily leaning on.

Derek blinks his blurry vision away as Stiles rolls around to face him, his brown eyes going vide and flashing pale purple for just a second. There's blood flowing slowly from a small wound on his forehead. "What the hell is your problem!?" Stiles shouts at the vampire standing smugly before them. It's the blonde one from the Cerise, half his face is covered in angry red blisters. Derek is about to haul himself to his feet, but his body is sluggish like his strength is being drained as he sits.

"My problem is that werewolves think they're better than us." The bloodsucker snaps and hauls Stiles to his feet. Derek can see his control slipping as Stiles yelps with surprise and a tinge of fear. The vampire grits his sharpening teeth and punches Stiles in the eye.

Stiles screeches and pushes at the vampire's face. "Come on dude, don't be racist," Stiles groans between the blood running down into his mouth. He shifts his attention to claw at the vampire's arm as it holds him in place, his human nails doing nothing as he makes odd noises of protest. "I'm not even a werewolf." he says, throwing Derek under the metaphorical bus.

"I know. I can smell it." the vampire says, his expression ugly as he squeezes Stiles arm. Stiles grits his teeth and stares at Derek. Pleading, Derek thinks and rushes to his feet.

A dizzy spell hits him and Derek's staggers to the side and leans on a dumpster. The vampire had done something to him. "Let him go!" he snarls, "It's me you want."

The vampire looks past him and hums as he looks back to Stiles. "I've never had Kitsune blood before." he says before ripping the sleeve of Stiles hoodie and biting down on his forearm. Stiles screeches inhumanely before the vampire's burnt hand clamps down on his mouth to drown out the noise. Stiles bends back awkwardly to escape the hand but the vampire shoves Stiles against the wall, trapping him. The vampire stays like that a good few seconds, moaning lightly as blood escapes the corners of his mouth, running down to Stiles' elbow before dripping down.

Derek snaps and his claws fly out over the man's face, nearly tearing his nose off. He skitters back to avoid Derek and let's go of Stiles who fall to the ground in a heap of limbs. The vampire looks back at Derek as his face begins to change, turning ugly. His lower face is smeared with blood and the grin on his lips is predatory.

"Derek!" Stiles shouts weakly as Derek drives towards the vampire and rips dark blood from his chest. The anger Derek feels at what the dead man before him had done, makes him stronger and a spark of poetic revenge let's Derek dig his fangs into the disgusting dead flesh of the vampire's forearm. It's a horrible taste but the panicked face of the vampire as he realises Derek left venom behind is worth it.

"You FUCKING mutt! You bit me!?" The vampire screeches and jumps away from Derek, further into the alley. His red eyes glow in the deeper shadows as black crawls up the veins in his arm. "That can kill me!"

Stiles laughs disturbingly from his place at the wall, there's glee in his voice. He pushes himself to his feet and stumbles to stand, watching the vampire hiss. "You should have thought about that before you but me. I'd hate to sound like Draco Malfoy, but do even you know who my dad is?"

When the vampire doesn't reply, his body taut with anticipation of a fight and pain. Stiles continues with a wicked smile on his face, "I'll give you a hint. There's two kitsune in Beacon Hill." His voice becomes muddled towards the end and Derek can see dark spots forming on his vision.

The vampire goes still, his fingers twitch before he's in front of them, hands flashing out for their hearts. Aiming to kill. Derek snarls and pushes Stiles out if the way as he moves, snapping his teeth over the dead man's shoulder, tearing at the flesh. The vampire grabs Derek's head and crashes his own into his forehead, breaking the dizzy spell out again. His vision swims and the last thing he sees is Stiles swinging at the vampire, with something glowing between the fingers of his fist.

He's out cold before he hits the ground.