Chapter 13: Raving (Lunatics)

A/N: I'm so very sorry for being late. I've been busy with some prior commitments and I needed to work on my own project, but I'm back and I'm feeling tons of guilt. Some of the dialogue was taken directly from the TV show, and thus belongs to the creator of the program. And since I heavily believe in intellectual property, I thought I'd mention the above. So the hunter parts of the story, some people skip um... Well this time I hope you don't, well considering Stiles is there, maybe it won't be. Regardless... I shall reapply the card I extracted from the last chapter. Royal flush. I only gave this a quick run through, edit wise, so I'm terribly sorry about any egregious errors.

Previously on Harmless: "They're fine, if they needed anything they'd come here, and more importantly, I thought I said you were all mine today. No shop talk," Derek said, growling and taking Stiles mouth.

"I did say that," Stiles said, letting his hands wonder across Derek's chest before slipping his hands under his werewolf's shirt before removing it. "But I'm always yours," Stiles added before bring his mouth to Derek's.

Derek had stayed with Stiles in his room till his dad had returned home early at four. The werewolf had to leave in a hurry, scrolling a note quickly on a piece of paper on Stiles' desk before tucking the paper in his lover's clenching hands. He left via the window, being careful enough to close it as he left. He longed for the day that he could use the front door, although, he doubted that the Sheriff would let them spend the night together. Part of him felt disgusted with himself for being like that manipulative bitch that had taken him for all he was, and took his family as collateral. The fire flashed into his mind, the smell of the cinders and the burnt flesh still caught in his memory. He went home.

Stiles spent the next two evening trying to find the courage to talk with his dad about Derek and him, but the time wasn't right. He was dealing with a slew of murders, he didn't need his son ruining more things for him. You know if the restraining order wasn't enough, how about him telling his dad he was gay. His dad wasn't homophobic, he knew that, but when it comes to family values and morals seem to slip into the background and the raw emotions and opinions are brought to the foreground.

They met at his dad's office for dinner, he hadn't gotten exactly what his father had asked for. Veggie burger, celery sticks, and everything his father would hate, but Stiles knew the fragility of life. He knew it first hand. It should come to no surprise that he knew the importance of eating healthy — to make the body able to last longer. His father needed to reduce his blood pressure and cholesterol levels. They were human, they were fragile. Balance eating, balance living, and maybe Stiles could keep his father alive for another 100 years.

They discussed the murder board, drew conclusions and made connections. They were a good team, his father and him. They seemingly could understand each other; Stiles' erratic and eccentric, and his father's logic and hand's dirty mentality. His mother always was the catalyst to their balance, she would be the middle ground. It was hard to find that middle ground without her.

Inside the vet. office Derek and Scott spoke with Dr. Deaton, leaving Isaac outside until they were ready for him. The vet. was seemingly ahead of them, he asked what they would do if they had captured Jackson, and eventually they concluded that they weren't going to kill him, but they needed to contain him. They invited Isaac in, and went into the back room. Dr. Deaton pulled out the box that Adrian had given him. The jars had symbols on their tops and contained many different things within their centres, and with mountain ash ashes he encircled a pendant of Cernunnos. What effects the master, effects the puppet.

Another day passed, school was ordinary, but the plan that Scott and Alison (and Stiles' perfecting touches) had put together seems like it would work. They would lure Jackson and find a way to stop him, which, according to Scott, didn't kill the monster, but change him back to a human or a werewolf. Isaac had roughly got Scott and Stiles tickets and the plan was going to be set in motion, but first they need to find a way to separate master from puppet, or just to figure out how to contain Jackson.

Scott brought Stiles to Dr. Deaton. His knowledge of the supernatural made Stiles incredibly jealous, and he wished he could learn from him, but from the vibe he was getting, the only reason the vet was helping them at all was because of Scott, or at least that's what he assumed. He had to become the spark for the mountain ash, and just like Santa, he would have to believe to get anything out of it. He stated his disbelief, but after he realized just how little he knew about the world around him. If werewolves existed, then why couldn't he be the conduit for the mountain ash? Anything was possible.

Empowered by the potential, Stiles got into his jeep. Leaving Scott at the veterinarian, he drove toward the Argent home. He was going to go head on against one of the enemies. He pulled on Derek's pullover, he had left it in his car. He inhaled Derek's scent, bring reason to his courage. When he parked on the opposite side of the street from the Argent house, he lost some of his nerve. He parked the car and took out his keys, but within a second had them back in the ignition, but when it came to turning the key and reignited the engine, he couldn't. He paused for a moment, withdrawing the keys and slipping them into his pocket. He got out of his jeep, walked toward the front door just as a car pulled into the driveway. The lights reflecting off the glass of the door and signalled Stiles, if his ears hadn't heard the car pulling into the driveway. He turned around, a black SUV stared him down. He stood his ground and watched as Chris Argents stepped out of the vehicle.

"What do you want, Stiles," Chris said exasperated by the sheer presence of the teen.

"I want you to stop your vindictive vendetta against the werewolves. Hasn't your sister caused enough grief — enough blood shed?"

"We hunt those who hunt us," Chris Argent said, repeating the code.

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent. I heard you say it, but that's all it is, talk!"

"I told you once that my best friend at one point turned and tried to attack me, Scott did the same thing, if I remember correctly," Chris said, not letting Stiles' elevated toned change his own. He was irritated, but Stiles was human, like him.

"We're not alike," Stiles answered. "I suppose in the beginning there was a purpose. When people were being killed, but at what point did saving the innocent turn into genocide. A life is a life. Your sister didn't see it that way. She didn't see a life where there was one. She decided that they were beasts and that beasts do not have a right to live. You preach this code, you say that you don't harm the young, but what about the young that were harmed? And when they grow up do they become targets? Your code is misguided — bred out of the myopia of fear and panic!"

"You don't know all the facts, you're just a child caught up in a conflict you can't handle."

"Screw the facts!" Stiles exclaimed. "What I know is that what the pack does is out of fear. You corner them and they retaliate. Derek is some crazed alpha like Peter. You just look at him and see the beast from your families history. You look at him, his red eyes and you fear. We humans have committed atrocities in the name of fear... In the name of our own protection. I can handle this conflict because I know my own morality. Derek is not some monster. He's kind, and even behind that scowl and stoic exterior, he cares. You hunt innocents because you see monsters. Sure on the full moon they're a little sadistic, but they can control it, if they're given time. Derek grew up as a werewolf, and even though his pack is new, I feel that they will learn how to control it soon. Derek can keep them in check, but what's the point in talking. You're just going to call me a child, grab your crossbow and kill these 'beasts' because your family has perfected the way to kill off people that have such a burden. If you left them only things could be better. There could be harmonious living like back before the fire. None of them went out and killed people. The Hales had contained their inner savage. I wish you people could do the same."

"Us savages!" Chris said, laughing afterward. "You've been favouring your other arm, what did something happen to your shoulder." Chris Argent, pulled Stiles closes, and with one hand keep Stiles in place (why he squirmed) and the other bunching Stiles shirt and sweater in his palm and pulling back to expose the bandage on his shoulder. "You might not have turned, but he took a chunk out of you. Who was it, Scott? Derek? One of his pack? They're dangerous. Humans may indoctrinate, but at least we don't create other beasts by a simple bite. This bite... They call it a gift, but look at them during the full moon, even your precious Scott and Derek are animals. They may not shift, but they're still animals caged and raging."

Stiles nearly in tears pull back and left, ran to his jeep without letting Chris get another word. He was done, he had said what he had wanted to say. Once he was in his car, he glanced back to see Argent just standing there silent, seemingly frozen. He put his key into the ignition and started his engine. He glanced at the clock, and started to drive, he had to get ready for the rave.

Stiles was leaving home, he had been home for an hour or so feeding himself and preparing for his task. He had to go pick Scott up from the vet's clinic. He passed his father, before turning around, something was off. He glanced up and down his father.

"Where is your gun?" Stiles asked.

"I left it at the station along with my badge," the sheriff said, feeling a mix of emotions. He was about to turn to go inside.

"Dad!" Stiles cried out.

"Don't worry about it," his father replied.

"Dad!"

Stiles' father sighed. "It was decided that the son of the police chief, stealing police property and having a retraining order filed against him by one of the town's most respect attorneys didn't reflect well on the county."

"They fired you..." Stiles said, his heart breaking. He had caused his father to lose a job he had loved, a job that had helped him get over... Stiles stopped his thoughts.

"Naw... It's just a leave of absence. It's temporary."

"Did they say it was temporary."

"Actually no. You know, it's fine. Don't worry about. Hey' we're going to be dine."

"Dad!" Stiles exclaimed. He was on the verge of tears, he had caused this... He knew he had fucked up. "I don't get it, why aren't you angry at me?"

"I don't know," Stilinski admitted. "Maybe I don't want to feel any worse then I already do by having to yell at my son."

His father left, going into his home and settling down at the kitchen table with the bottle of jack, and what remained of a surprisingly delicious quiche his son had packed away into the fridge. He just picked it up from some delivery place, his dad thought as he heard the engine of Stiles' jeep roar to life. He doubted his son would be home that night.

Stiles picked Scott up from the clinic, Deaton had given them a bag of mountain ash ashes nearly as heavy as Stiles' himself. They drove to the rave, Stiles said nothing.

They arrived, Scott asked if Stiles was alright, but the human teen simply brushed his best friend off. If Scott truly wanted to spend time he would have stopped Stiles and had a conversation, but being busy and concerned about his girlfriend, he left. Stiles sighed and began his work with the ashes. He opened the bag and started drawing a circle around the building. When he was nearly finished he came down to a last handful, enough to fill his hand. He didn't have enough to complete the circle. He ground his teeth together frustrated, could he do nothing right. He called Scott, leaving a message, calling him a wolfass, but that wouldn't do anything in the moment. He remembered that Deaton had told him to be the spark and to imagine it working... He searched himself, finding the belief he could conjure from the knowledge of the existence of werewolves. If this magic damn faerie dust was going to work, he had to believe in it. He began to picture it, a complete circle. He walked toward the start of the line he had put down, having put the rest of the ash into his hands, and let the ashes fall. He strode toward the start, feeling the grains slip through his fingers. When he made it, he opened his eyes. Glanced down at the completed circle and by some miracle he had managed it. He glanced at his hands, they were black from the ash and he bunched them together and wanted to cheer.

He wipes his hands on his jeans, just as his phone signals that he's received a text. Erica told him that they had Jackson. He crossed his own line, making sure not to disturb the ashes. He met up with Erica on the side of the building, in one of the many securable areas they had scouted before they had arrived this evening. They had Jackson in a chair, he was knocked out because of the ketamine, and yet when Isaac approaches, claws bared, Jackson nearly snaps the werewolf's wrist.

"No body does anything like that again!" Stiles said, surprisingly commandingly, even Erica turned toward Stiles. For a moment both Erica and Isaac questioned if being involved with Derek automatically gave Stiles authority over them. "Okay!"

By the end, Jackson had spoke unconsciously with Stiles, the master had used Jackson literally as a puppet, but their conversation was short lived particularly when Jackson's body begins to shift into that of the kanima. They ran out as fast as they could. Stiles jumped over the ashes, looks back toward Erica and Isaac. They couldn't cross it.

Stiles nearly choked on his own hubris. He was ecstatic, he had actually managed to do something useful. Derek arrived, his shirt has two holes and burns around the edges. Stiles glances at the marks and he reacts in a typical Stiles-like reaction.

"Oh my god! It's working! Ah this is... Yes! I did something," he said looking to Derek for confirmation, but Derek's ear's pick up, nothing more.

"Scott," Derek mutters out.

"What," Stiles replies, disappointed Derek didn't compliment his work.

"Break it!" Derek commands.

"What, no way," Stiles said, wanting to say but I actually got it to work.

"Scott's dying!"

"Okay. What. how do you know that?"

"Oh my god, Stiles, I just know. Break it!" Derek said hurried.

Stiles broke his hard work, brushing away some of the ash, making the complete circle broken. The magic faded, both Erica and Isaac could feel it. They wanted to follow Derek, but he was too quick.

Stiles frowned, averting his eyes to the ground. He had been useful? He had helped them, right? He didn't know what to do, he could follow Derek and by some miracle find them, or he could hop into his car and drive toward Scott's house and then double back to Derek's, luring any hunters away from whatever was going on. He got into his jeep, feeling more useless then ever. He threw his fists against the wheel, the horn honking and terrifying a couple of people that had left the rave.

"Oh my God!" He shouted.

Stiles had made it to Scott's when his phone. A message from Scott popped up on screen, he pulled over momentarily. It had been a perfect moment anyway, if he was being tailed then they would try to stop before he noticed. The text ready, "Come to vet. - Derek." Great, now I'm worried, Stiles thought was he pulled away from the curb and sped toward the clinic.

Deaton had patched Scott up, the younger werewolf was laid out and unconscious. Derek sat in a chair in the corner of the room, looking grim. He had bitten the Argent women to protect Scott, he knew their code. He was screwed, whatever chance at a peaceful life like when he was growing up, as out the window. Maybe it was time to move to a new town, but Stiles. His heart swelled, no he couldn't leave Stiles. He'd have to find a way to stay.

"Thank you," Derek said to the Vet.

The vet went into his office in the back room near the door. He looked worn out, but still able to function without hesitation.

"I can't decide," Ms. Morrell said. "If I admire your sentimentality or despise it."

"If I want your opinion, I'll make an appointment with the guidance office," Deaton replied.

"From the state of things, I think you could use a little guidance. Are you really going to leave all this up to a couple of kids."

"They are more capable then you think."

She contemplated his answer before speaking. "Are you going to tell them what is coming?"

"They've had enough to worry about."

"But will you let them go in blind," Aidan said, appearing from out the shadows of the backdoor.

"Honestly, you both are extremely intruding," The vet said.

"I don't mean to be," Aidan said as if off hand.

"Well I believe I've overstayed my welcome. Anytime any of you wish for some guidance, make an appointment."

"I best be off as well," Aidan said leaving with Morrell.

Dr. Deaton went back to Derek and Scott; he checked the younger werewolf's temperature and glanced toward Beacon Hill's alpha, the one he had promised a dear friend to protect. "He'll be fine. Besides I believe you'll be leaving soon."

Stiles wondered into the operating room, the silver metal slab occupied by Scott, who was still unconscious. He hung on the frame of the door, not wanting to go back into this room again.

"You're not going to ask me to cut off your arm again," Stiles said, looking around the room nervously.

"No, but if you don't get in here you may lose an arm," Derek said.

Stiles came into the room and slowly approached Derek. He watched the vet as he moved before attempting to sit on Derek's lap, but his werewolf stood up preventing him. "You're right, I will be leaving." He grabbed hold of Stiles wrist, "Coming, Stiles?"

"Always a pleasure, Stiles. Derek I think it would be best if Stiles remains in your company, with Scott unconscious and all, not to mention that his father is weaponless," Deaton said. He checked Scott again, his wounds were healing, but not enough to bring him back to consciousness.

"I'll do that," Stiles said, prancing out of the door, Derek still holding on to his wrists.

As they left Derek spoke, "You need to be careful. If the hunters found out, or if... It just wouldn't be good. They'd try to use you against me. They'd. I don't want to think about."

"My jeep or your car, or maybe we should drive separately," Stiles said, ignoring what Derek had said.

"Stiles, it's dangerous."

"What is with people thinking that I'm so fragile. I might be human, I might be useless, but I'm not weak. I don't need you to tell me it's dangerous. I know that, but I need to try to save my friends. Do you understand that? So my car or yours?"

"Yours, the hunters might be on patrol and they'll notice my car, it'll be safe here," Derek said.

They both got into Stiles' jeep. "Let's go, you need to get home before your dad sends out the cavalry," Derek said.

"I'm not going home," Stiles said.

"Is everything alright?"

"It can wait Derek till we're at your... What do I call it, headquarters... Den... Yes, den is more appropriate."

"Stiles."

"No Derek, please. It can wait. I just can wait."

It didn't take long for them to arrive at Derek's warehouse. They left Stiles car secured and walked together toward the back entrance. When they reached Derek's room, they could see the lights were on and the rest of his pack were waiting for him.

"How's Scott," Isaac asked.

"Recuperating," Stiles said walking in front of Derek and coming to the room before him. He glanced at Erica, she had her hands in Boyd's. He look at Derek, however, his concern written on his face.

"I'm fine," Derek said. "Now Erica, Boyd, I'm sure you've got places to be, and Isaac go rest. It's been a long day." The alpha was in his voice, Stiles could hear it rumble in his chest. "Be careful for hunters. The argents are out in force."

The pack dispersed, leaving Stiles and Derek in his room. His werewolf slid the dresser back into position and then turned toward Stiles who had sat down on the edge of Derek's bed. His face was stricken, the weight of the events of the day still heavy against his shoulders and mind, along with the added worry of what had happened with Derek and Boyd, probably relating to the burn holes that Derek did so very well to hide. He looked up into Derek's eyes and held his presence there. He opened his mouth, nothing came. No words, no sounds, not even the sound of his own breathing. He closed it. A moment passed in silence, before he attempted it again. "I don't want to be that lover that always is in tears."

"You're not, Stiles. When bad things happen that effect us, some of us cry, some of us want to cry, but just have forgotten how." He sat down next to Stiles, wrapping his hand around him.

"Well I don't want to be the cryer, I want to be stronger."

"Tears don't show weakness, Stiles. They show just how empathetic you are."

Stiles snorted, the verge of tears suck in his throat.

"So what's wrong?"

"My dad was fired today. The brass thought it looked poorly upon the county to have a sherif with a son stealing police property and getting a restraining order. He blames me, I can see that. I know that he does. He claims we're okay, but we're not. I've always been a burden to him."

"He doesn't blame you."

"How can you know that, ever since mom died... I'm that nutjob, eccentric, erratic son of the Sheriff... The freak."

"Well good thing I'm a nutjob to."

"Hardly," Stiles scoffed.

"You forgot I was wanted for murder, never charged, and mostly because of you and Scott, but regardless."

Stiles chuckled, "Let's not forget violent and full of empty threats."

"I wouldn't call them empty, because if you don't get under the covers I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth."

"Promises promises," Stiles said.

Derek growled, his eyes shifted, and his face transformed. "Get under the covers."

Stiles swallowed suddenly and jumped to get under the covers, before looking back to Derek who prowled towards him across the top of the covers. He slid in next to Stiles, his face going back to normal, but his eyes still red and demanding. "You forget," he said, taking Stiles mouth forcefully. His tongue forced into the teen's mouth without warning. He broke from Stiles. "The moon is nearly full and my instincts are going ballistic. The wolf gets what the wolf wants." He plunged into another kiss, taking Stiles lower lip into his mouth and suckling. Stiles threw his hands to Derek's side, holding on, but Derek with his own removed Stiles hands and pinned them above his head. Straddling Stiles, Derek pressed his own groin into his lover's own, their bodies reacting appropriately against the pressure. A low growl rumbled in his chest as they kissed, sending Stiles into a lusty ball of hormones and emotions. He squirmed under Derek, writhing his hands in his werewolf's larger grip. He thrust his body forward, grinding into Derek.

Derek released Stiles' hands, which flung at his werewolf's clothes without hesitation. He nearly tore off Derek's shirt, and he had to let Derek help himself with his jean's button for his hands were fumbling and shaking from the sheer desire he was feeling. Once off, Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek's manhood, the fact that his werewolf went commando, forcing a moan from the teen. Contrarily Derek made quick work of Stiles' clothing, gently taking off his lover's shirt and doffing the teen's pants and underwear in a hurry.

Derek took hold of Stiles hand that were around his shaft, and pinned them above his head once more. His werewolf trailed his tongue from Stiles' mouth, down his chin, across his neck, and slowly, ever so slowly, licking down Stiles' torso. He stopped around the abdomen, stretching his body so that he could continue holding Stiles' hands securely above his head and taking him into his mouth. Derek flicked his tongue across the underside of Stiles growing erection, sending whimpers from his lover, who writhed under his touch. Gently, he took Stiles into his mouth, apply suction skillful as he drew the teen completely into his mouth. His tongue mercilessly swirled around the head and coiling around the shaft. Stiles couldn't help, but thrust into his werewolf's mouth relentlessly as Derek drew him close to the edge. Without warning, however, Derek's particular oral warmth departed, and took his mouth suddenly. The taste of himself caught in his mouth with Derek's as Stiles fought a loosing battle with his tongue.

Without warning, Stiles hands were free, as Derek moved his pelvis closer to his lover's face, his erection bobbing right in front of the teen's mouth. Stiles blushed, his face already rouged from the excite. The head pressed against his lips domineeringly demanding entrance. Stiles complied, opening his mouth and letting the organ passing into his mouth. Derek gave him now time to adjust to the foreign mass, and thrusted vigorously into the open cavity. As Derek's manhood passed between his lips, he tightened and released, apply suction when possible. He glanced up at his lover, their eyes met and through some link between them made the pace of Derek's actions quicken. Stiles gripped onto his werewolf's posterior. His fingers slithered toward Derek's entrance, teasingly probing around the ring. Growling, Derek picked Stiles up, bring him back down face forward on the bed. His hands spread Stiles, open, and used his fingers to prepare his lover most cruelly. Slowly drawing one finger in after the other, spending considerable time with each. Stiles moaned, cried out, and thrust into the fingers making their way into him, wanting more, wanting them to go deeper. "More!"

Derek's chuckle was heard, but was nearly covered by a snarl that ripped through his lover. He pressed his cock against the small of Stiles back teasingly, drawing it across the middle of Stiles arse. He pressed into Stiles' ring, slowly, only working the head around circularly. Stiles bucked backward, attempting further his lover's ravaging of him, but Derek pressed a hand to his back forcing him back down. Stiles let out a growl, attempting to get through his sourwolf's thick skull. Inching forward, Derek pushed himself further into Stiles, no longer holding back. He began his thrusting suddenly, driving out a cry from his lover. Stiles lifted his hips up, positioning himself on his knees with his head low.

Derek grappled onto Stiles hips using him for support as he ravaged Stiles entirely. Meanwhile, Stiles was grinding his teeth together, not letting himself cry out. Soon the pain would depart and pleasure would form from their union. It didn't take long before moans and groans were elicited from Stiles, as Derek plunged into him. Stiles clenched the beg sheets, rocking back and worth, deepening Derek's pursuit.

Derek loosened his grip on his lover's hips, and with some assistance from Stiles flipped him, still attached, onto his back. Derek looked into Stiles' eyes, he could see the lust and desire swelling in those brown pools. Stiles found enough sanity to take one of Derek's hands with one of his own, and tightly entwined them, whitening his own as he held on to his lover as tightly as he could. Derek pressed himself close to his lover, ramming himself in and out, while their mouths met.

Stiles legs clutched onto Derek's body, as they jerked forward and back. Through grunts from Derek, Stiles threw himself against Derek, his body reacting to the primal urges that developed. Derek soon quickened his pace, the pressure of their union drawing him over the edge and forcing a moan from his werewolf's lips that he heard so rarely. Stiles grip tightened on Derek's hand as his werewolf came into him.

Derek quickly pulled out and dropped down to Stiles manhood. Taking the weeping organ into his mouth, not giving Stiles anytime to prepare himself. His tongue viciously tortured Stiles erection, probing along the underside and encircling the head with the same expertise he had before. Soon, Stiles hands clenched and unclenched, signalling his proximity to climax.

"Close," Stiles moaned out weakly.

Derek continued faster, taking his lover deep into his throat, swallowing, and humming fiendishly, sending Stiles over the edge and coming into his lover's mouth. Derek's slip slid out from the corners of his mouth along with what he couldn't handle of Stiles aftermath. He went over Stiles manhood with tongue and suckled, cleaning off his lover before bring his mouth to Stiles, which in the haze he took and probed with his tongue before Derek took control.

Soon Derek fell to Stiles' side, exhausted and spent. His lover faced into him, not letting go of Derek's hand he had encaged with his own. He quickly took his werewolf's mouth with his own, before speaking. "I did something, you saw, right."

"Yes I saw," Derek said, his breathing still laboured.

"Impressed?"

"Very."

"You patronizing me?" Stiles asked, opening his eyes and looking into Derek's. "I'll know if your lying."

"That's my line," Derek said. "But no, I'm not patronizing you."

"I love you," Stiles said. "I love you Derek Hale and don't you dare forget it."

"I love you too, Stiles," Derek said. "Now get some sleep."

"But I actually did, I got the ash to complete the circle and it worked. It worked. It—"

Derek kissed Stiles stopping Stiles from continuously rambling, and muttered into Stiles mouth, "I know."

Stiles smiled, and let his eyes shut, and his head to fall to the pillow, before snuggling closer to Derek. He closed his eyes again and fell asleep.