A/N: GOOD LORD I AM TIRED I had to work with children today and drive like 3 hours and there were irrigation trenches involved. BUT LOOK I STILL WROTE YOU FIC, I am so good to you.
Chapter 2
"If you fucking hurt him so help me I will rip you apart molecule by molecule", and fuck it all if the demon doesn't hang up on him. The demon that's currently possessing Stiles.
At the thought Derek feels himself changing, feels bones shirt and hair grow, razor sharp fangs press insistently against his gums. They want to rip into the demon, sink into its flesh and tear it apart, bloody and messy. The instinct is to protect, fight, live, die protecting.
But the demon has no flesh of its own. Only Stiles.
Derek grips the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers leave actual impressions when he pulls away and gets out of the Camaro. Which is now parked rather conspicuously on the front lawn of Beacon Hills High.
He flexes his hands, takes a deep breath of the cool night air, and tries to calm himself. He can't fight this physically; he needs to be able to outthink it, and that means keeping the wolf at bay.
The front door to the school is locked, so he rips off the handle, and that makes him feel a little bit better. Halfway down the hallway he finds Scott, huddled under a drinking fountain.
"Derek!" he gasps, way too loud, banging his head against the drinking fountain as he tries to stand. "There's a smoke monster, I don't…it tried to kill is, where is everyone, I…"
"Scott", Derek hisses, grabbing him by the collar. "I need you to stay calm. I need you to help me. Okay?" Scott swallows, looks like he's about to puke, but then he just nods.
"Good. The monster is a demon. What I need you to do is…"
"WHAT? A demon? How do you know, oh shit,"
"SCOTT, listen to me", Derek demands, and Scott glances around wildly, like he might take off running, but then he stills, breathes deep, and looks Derek straight in the eye. "What do you need me to do?"
Derek has never been so proud.
"I need you to find Allison, Erica, Isaac, and Jackson. Get out of here, stick together. Find somewhere safe, and above all find out how to exorcize a demon. Without harming the host. Can you do that for me?"
"What about Stiles?" is the first thing Scott says, and Derek gives him a look that says more than enough. For a second Scott's eyes panic, but he pulls himself together with obvious difficulty and nods. He's still scared, but he looks confident, like he has a purpose. Derek grips him by the shoulder, all seriousness, "I'm counting on you. Now go", and gives him a shove. Scott lopes off, and Derek finally, finally can go find Stiles.
He opens his senses, lets the torrent of smells overtake him. He has Stiles' scent immediately, and it's so familiar that for a second the panic recedes. But there are other smells intermingling with Stiles'; something acrid and rotten that has to be sulphur, and…blood.
No. No no no. He can't be too late.
Derek runs, as fast as he ever has, following the nauseating combination of scents to an inconspicuous door down the third hall on the left. He can see lights flickering through the fogged glass window, and he recoils at the smell.
The room reeks of fear, death, and things that are far more dangerous and unnatural than anything Derek has ever experienced, which is saying something.
He automatically retreats a step.
But the room also smells of Stiles. His fear, his blood, and that scent that Derek has come to love, the one that is purely Stiles, the one that sometimes makes Derek create excuses to get closer, to lean over Stiles' shoulder or cuff him in the back of the head, just so he can get a better whiff.
He has to go in, regardless of what all his instincts are telling him. This is a bad room. This is death. But Stiles is in there.
Derek grips the door handle, breathes deep, steels himself, and slips inside as fast as he can, closing the door behind him and pressing back against it.
Stiles is sitting on a metal examining table in the center of the room, shirtless. His head is hanging down, listless and there are tiny, bleeding cuts scattered all across his torso. For a second Derek's heart jumps and he hopes. Because it is Stiles, and he's hurt but not as badly as he could be. He still has all of his limbs. Maybe the demon just had its fun and left.
A deep, gurgling chuckle comes from Stiles' throat, and Derek's heart drops.
"So, you're the knight in shining armor. Frankly I have to say I was expecting someone who stank less of guilt. Maybe younger, too."
And Stiles' head lifts, his eyes focus on Derek's. They're pure, glossy black. Wet and glistening, extending from his pupil to cover his entire eye.
Derek roars, claws out, fangs dropping down, and he's crouching, circling. This…thing has Stiles. He can't allow that. He'll make it leave.
The fury is so strong that it overtakes every other emotion. He sees red, but there's nothing he can do. He howls his frustration.
"Ah, ah, ah", the demon chides shaking one of Stiles' long, beautiful fingers at him. "We'll be having none of that now". And it lifts Stiles' other hand, which is suddenly holding a medical scalpel, shit, oh hell no, and Derek lunges forward, growling his rage and his fear, and the demon jabs the blade into Stiles' forearm.
"NO. The more you let the dog out to play, the more he gets hurt", and the scalpel slides, sickly smooth, an inch up Stiles' arm.
Derek stops dead in his tracks, his anger so overwhelming he can barely think, much less change back, but the demon slides the blade another inch, and Derek closes his eyes, breathes deep, and starts the most painful transformation of his life.
His body doesn't want to change back, is resisting him with every fiber. Stiles is in danger, is possessed, and Derek has to get him back, can't let him be hurt, even more so that if it were Erica or Scott or anyone, because…because…Derek doesn't let himself think it, can't have that weakness now, not when he's been forcing it back for so long. This is most definitely not the time for being honest with himself.
He forces his body back to humanity.
Glaring at the demon, hate seeping from every pore, he grits out, "What have you done to him? If you hurt him I will…"
"You'll what?" the demon sneers, twisting Stiles' face into a parody of his normal expressions. "Yap at me?"
Derek can't take it, the wolf bursts forth and he smells the blood before he sees it, the scalpel dragged all the way up to the crook of Stiles' elbow in a shallow but bloody line, sharp point resting in a gathering pool of blood.
The wolf yearns to attack, but it's also confused. This is Stiles, but Stiles is also hurting Stiles, and hurting Stiles is just about the worst sin anyone can commit, according to the wolf, because Stiles is – NO, Derek's human side interjects, No, you cannot think like that now, you can't give yourself away, not now.
He forces his fangs to recede, pulls in his claws, sees the red tint fade from the world. The demon twists Stiles' face into a leering smile, and Derek tries to control his rage by clenching his fists so tightly that his short nails draw blood. He can smell it intermingled with Stiles' blood and the scent of terror that he left lingering in the room before the demon took him.
God, Stiles must be terrified right now.
The thought hits Derek like a punch to the gut; he actually staggers and his hands unclench. He jerks his head up and stares deep into the black pools of Stiles' eyes, desperately trying to find him, trying to communicate that he's here, it's okay, he's die before he lets anything bad happen.
The demon just smiles wider. "You've finally discovered something you can't protect him from", it says as it twists the scalpel, making the movement look thoughtless, and Derek's blood boils. He forcibly calms it, gritting his teeth.
"He knows you're trying to save him, by the way. He's calling you an idiot, screaming at you to run. Frankly it's starting to give me a headache." It digs the scalpel deeper, and blood runs freely down Stiles' arm and across the table. His face is starting to go pale.
"It's so interesting, what's going on inside this head. All those memories. The guilt, the pain…the jealousy. Hatred, too, deep down where he hopes no one will ever look. But I have all the keys."
Derek's claws are out, but he sinks them into his palms so they don't show.
"I could use any of it to hurt him. The dad, now there's a possibility. But, well, his father is human. Weak. Powerless. Just like his son. There's someone else who loves him, though. Someone who hides it, who would never tell him how they really feel…but who would give up anything, destroy anything to save him. To keep him from feeling this."
The demon yanks the scalpel from Stiles' arm and stabs it straight down into his thigh. A deep red stain immediately starts to spread across the denim.
Derek jerks forward a step, can't control himself, reaching out towards Stiles like he can actuall have any effect, and it's then that he knows he's lost. He can only hope to hold the demon off and pray that Scott and the others come up with something brilliant, and fast.
"Oooh, don't like to see him hurting, do you lover boy?" It hops Stiles' body off the table, leacing a dusting of yellow powder behind.
It's walking, sauntering really, towards him and Derek holds himself stiff and straight as a board.
The demon gets right up close, gives him the once over, and darts Stiles' tongue out to lick his lips.
Derek breaks out in a cold sweat.
Then hands are gripping his biceps and Stiles' chest is pressed flush to his own, the deom lowering his head to press Stiles' nose to the juncture of Derek's jaw and neck, and Derek wants to push it off so badly that he's shaking, but he knows it may well cost Stiles his life.
His body and the wolf, on the other hand, are a mixture of elated and confused, because this is Stiles pressed up against him and that's Fantastic, that's everything they want, but Stiles smells funny, smells wrong and bad and scared, and Stiles should never smell that way. The wolf whines, and for a split second Derek is terrified that the demon will use that against him.
But it just laughs, puffing hot air against his throat, and the little hairs on the back of Derek's neck all stand on end.
He feels soft, wet lips press against his ear, and it's simultaneously everything he's ever wanted and his worst nightmare. He shuts his eyes tight and a tear escapes to trickle down his face.
"I'll let you in on a little secret", the demon whispers, so close that every word brushes lips against the shell of his ear, and Derek prepares for the worst.
"He loves you, too"
A/N: My favorite part is seriously how snarky the demon is. It's voice is SO much fun to write. SASS. ALL OVER THE PLACE SASS.
I will probably come back and change this all in the morning oh my gosh 6 a.m. why are you so early.