The Howling
A/N: Wow thank you for such wonderful reviews. And OMG, there was a shirtless Jackson and more Derek/Stiles action in "Wolf's Bane". It was…wow. Alpha-madness. Poor Derek, your family life sucks. ;A;
Anyway, here's the fourth chapter. You've all been so kind to me that I tried to fit in as much as possible.
Thanks again for reading and/or reviewing. :O
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Stiles' breathing had calmed, but he was still in recovery. There was only so much Derek could do. It was never easy to stabilize a human's pheromone levels, especially someone as young and eccentric as Stiles. It would take time, which at the moment neither of them had. The alpha was out there, somewhere, and Derek needed to find a place to hide himself and Stiles.
And as difficult as Derek found not to slap the kid awake, he knew it was better if he was out. Stiles was still in a borderline-dangerous state, even unconscious. Because, if an alpha didn't want to be heard, you wouldn't hear anything until teeth ripped into you.
Or worse, the alpha might nip you and let you tear your life apart. Derek shook his head free of Scott and pity. He needed to concentrate and come up with a plan, fast.
Outside tree branches waved in the wind. Derek knew the clouds were hiding the stars, so he'd have to use his nose to find shelter. He sure as hell couldn't bring the kid back to his place, and of course not Scott's, or the vet clinic and school.
"Shit," he muttered, and started to wrap Stiles up as tightly as possible. The boy was limp and Derek didn't want him falling out of his arms while they were on the move. So, he treated the situation as if he was about to carry a fucking infant. This was getting ridiculous, really, what the hell had happened to flying solo? Where was he going to go?
"Get him to water," suddenly thought Derek as he continued to wrap Stiles in his light blanket. "Scent's not as strong by lakes and rivers. The lake, take him to the fucking lake."
And then they'd wait it out. There was only four more hours to sunrise, and the alpha hadn't shown up broad daylight yet—or so Derek hoped. He'd been proven wrong before.
"Stiles?" an older man's voice cut through the house. Derek froze in mid-frantic-blanket wrap and waited. Footsteps were climbing a close set of stairs, fast.
"Stiles?" the man called again. It was Stiles' father, and he might be armed. The werewolf growled and looked around for possible exists, because he really couldn't waste time; the man was now less than ten feet away.
And he and Stiles needed to leave the premise, or else they'd all be killed. He didn't want any more dead bodies on his hands.
"Damn it," Derek cursed and opened one of Stiles' bedroom window. He didn't sense any immediate threatening presences and proceeded to pick the boy up bridal-style—and oh God, did he smell good—Derek shook his head and leapt out the window. Behind him the bedroom door squeak open.
He disappeared into the night with Stiles, hoping they'd reach the lake.
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Scott didn't go home. He couldn't. Stiles, Derek, all this pain and anger…he feared he'd turn on his mother next. How could he go on like this? What about Allison? What did tonight mean for their relationship, even if it was already rocky?
"I love Allison, only Allison. What happened with Stiles was a mistake, and he's not going to talk to me again. Jesus Christ," thought Scott as he wandered yet another cul-de-sac. It was vacant of lights but full of possible victims. He wanted to kill, to taste blood, and to fuck very badly. His thoughts were maddening, driving him in circles or outside sleeping people's windows.
He knew and yet didn't know what he was doing. His body was on auto-pilot.
Something in the air caught his attention. Not Allison, but it was a female, and she was human. She smelled spicy, yet sad, vulnerable.
"Smell her?" a voice he didn't recognize asked. "Who?" replied Scott. He knew this voice, somehow, and didn't argue with it.
Scott stayed where he'd apparently been crouching, which was somehow in a large sturdy tree. He threw his head back and howled, right there in the middle of several homes, and didn't know why.
"Lydia, she's here." Scott's eyes glowed. "She's here and she wants you." He gripped the bark beneath his hands. Below him, in a very nice looking house, a single light turned on.
"Go to her," said the voice, and Scott jumped down from the tree into the house's backyard.
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Derek clutched Stiles close. They'd made it out of his neighborhood and past late-night traffic, but they weren't safe yet. He paused to get a better hold on Stiles and looked around, briefly collecting info of his surroundings to turn left, into a backyard, and then reaching the forest.
It never ceased to amaze him how heavy human boys were. Stiles looked light, but he had enough muscle on him to bother Derek's arms.
He needed to concentrate. With the rate he was going, the lake was only a short while away. Things might be okay, Stiles might not die—
In the distance a howl was let loose, and Derek nearly crashed into a tree.
"Scott," he hissed through his teeth. Stiles jerked in his arms but remained unconscious. "Great," thought Derek as he continued through the woods and towards the lake. "I have to make a choice with which moron to deal with. Fucking great. Scott, you idiot, damn it."
Leaves crunched beneath his boots, and he slowed his pace to normal as a precaution. Last thing he wanted was to drop Stiles—
A fierce snarl cut into his thoughts. Derek kept running, running, oh God. He hadn't expected the alpha to find them so fucking fast, which was stupid on his part.
But now, even if they did get to water, the alpha would kill Stiles.
Derek cursed and stopped in mid-run, Stiles' sleeping form still in his arms. He knew what he needed to do.
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"Back for more?" Lydia teased from her porch. Scott stood at the bottom of the wooden stairs, moist grass cushioning his feet.
"I have to admit, I've missed you," she said, pretty lips curling into a smile. Scott had missed her too, in some weird, wrong way. Just like he was missing Stiles and Allison and his old fucking life.
"Um, I didn't mean to bother you," Scott began, trying to sort his story out. He'd messed up with Stiles as it was, and when he found out he and Lydia had been secretly seeing each other…
"What? How could you ever bother me?" laughed Lydia as she hopped down the stairs. She was wearing a skimpy pink night-gown thing. Scott approved, very much, and appreciated the red-head's taste in clothing the more he got to know her. "Scott? Are you listening to me?" asked Lydia, smiling seductively.
"How the hell are we the same age?" Scott thought, a smirk tugging at his face. She grabbed both his hands and put them on her ass, giggling when his eyebrows arched. "So, do you wanna go inside or stay here? We have a hammock and pool-house, if you're interested."
Lydia never wasted time.
"I just wanna…" Scott took a deep whiff of her—and yeah, she wanted to fuck his brains out, nothing new there, but he was in no mood. He continued. "I just wanna stay over, relax. I've had a rough night. I just wanna be around you."
"Aw," Lydia cooed and brushed some curly strands out of his face. "Poor baby," and she was laughing again, just happy to see Scott, and kissed him lightly. He blinked and smiled, actually smiled, because Lydia was always happy to see him. After his night Scott was so grateful to have her, though he knew he'd have to face this mess tomorrow morning.
Lydia led the boy into the Martin household, Scott barely listening to her fast-moving mouth.
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Derek cried out as another claw sliced through his back. For some reason the alpha seemed more concerned with him than Stiles, though he couldn't be sure. He cringed and let himself be shoved into a tree trunk, then another, and another until Derek's back hit ground.
The alpha ripped his vocal chords and lapped at his neck, mockingly. Derek knew he was fucked for sure, but the alpha suddenly released him into the darkness. It was so sudden that Derek didn't move for a few seconds, not until the alpha kicked him onto his side.
Derek curled into the fetal position, coughing up blood and gasping for air. The alpha didn't do anything else, but Derek knew he was watching him. He continued to try and draw as much attention on himself, which wasn't difficult as the pain would've made him scream if he had use of his vocal chords. But the pain he was used to, it was the underlying fear of losing Stiles that kept Derek in such a state.
"Don't let him die," he thought and tried to move again, but felt hot piercing pain shoot through his extremities and ribcage. "Don't die Stiles, please—"
For a brief moment his vision returned, and he saw the large beast by Stiles' unconscious body, not even sniffing him. The alpha just…watched Derek, like a test. He moved his paw slowly to Stiles and pulled the blanket off his body, still not taking his eyes off of Derek. What the hell was his game? The alpha knew Stiles was Scott's friend, not Derek's—
His vision went black again, so Derek barred his teeth and growled as loudly as his damaged vocal chords let him.
And then, silence.
He lay there for an undisclosed amount of time, waiting, briefly considering himself lost and dead, but then he felt a gust of wind. The alpha had left.
"Are you kidding me?"
Derek opened his mouth, but his jaw made a concerning popping sound. He was still healing, thankfully, but needed to know the kid was alright. He tried a second time to call out, but could only moan. The werewolf growled and forced a third attempt.
"Stiles," Derek finally wheezed. He repeated the kid's name, the ringing in his ears was dying slowly down.
He was alarmed when he was roughly turned onto his back, but also relieved. It was Stiles, it had to be. He couldn't see, temporarily blinded by shock, but two sweaty hands grabbed him. Hands, he could feel but not smell. He could still hear ringing.
When his eyes finally decided to see he made out the blurry image of Stiles. He could barely hear his voice, it was muffled, and God, he still smelled great. Why didn't the alpha take him?
"We need to…get to…water," Derek said in between strained breaths.
"Dude did you kidnap me?" Stiles repeated several more times, panic and fear crossing his face. Derek rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hands in relief. Stiles was awake, not dead, didn't even look scratched.
"I just need to get him through the night, just this night. It's gonna be fine, the alpha's gone," the werewolf thought and closed his eyes.
"What the fuck? Not cool!" Stiles shouted. He was turning hysterical. "You could've un-mind-whammy'd me in my own bedroom! I'm practically naked!" Derek sat up and covered the boy's running mouth with his hand.
"Don't. Say. One more fucking word until we get to the water."
And Stiles didn't.
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A/N: Ohhhh shit. Sorry to leave ya'll with another cliffhanger. Next chapter will…um…yeah. It should be interesting, promise. Stay tuned!
Edit: Yes, I changed the main pairing to Stiles/Derek. I'm sorry but I don't really like Scott's character, and in order to like him I'd have to tweek the shit out of him...and then he wouldn't be Scott anymore. Plus I like Stiles/Derek more. I'm sorry if this upsets anyone and understand if you do not wish to follow my story anymore. Lol I probably shouldn't even have put this edit in, but I love all my readers/reviewers. :-[