^^Hey everyone! Here's my next chapter for this story, For I am but a Vessel, Sweetness. Thank you for reading and if you review-double thank you. Seriously, thank you so much for the reviews.

=3

The camper was getting more and more alarming as the night went on. From his seat in Lady Vadoma's lap, he watched as the other witches unloaded supplies from the RV. The herbs and jars of animal parts had been slightly perturbing, but it was when they came hauling out a huge, rusty cauldron-no joke, a fucking cauldron- that he felt that trickle of fear become more pronounced. And then, out came the thick slab of cement that looked an awful lot like what a sacrificial alter looked like in the movies.

Nope, no way, he was done, so done.

Derek was growling low in his chest now; he could feel the rumble start up on its own as his anxiety threatened to choke him. He felt his face and claws shift and a surge of aggression was brought out with his wolf. Snarling, he thrust his claws down, digging them as deep as he could into the old lady's arms that gripped him around the waist. Really, he didn't give a shit how old she was, he was not going to allow himself to be sacrificed on that nasty-ass table. He could smell the old blood and power soaked into it from here; he could feel it crackling through the air, making his hair stand on end.

The old lady hissed out a jagged sentence, most likely curse words judging by the tone and the look on her weathered face. He'd been expecting some type of retaliation, but the heavy blow to the side of his head was harsher than any woman her age should've been able to deal. It felt as though someone had knocked him across the skull with a shovel and he let out a pained sound as he fell forwards onto the ground in front of the fire. Much closer to the fire then he ever wanted to be.

"Lady Vadoma!" Angela cried as her and Sandy came bursting out of the open camper door. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Little shit." Vadoma grunted and spit a dark loogie into the dirt next to his face. "We were nice to you, no? Didn't hurt you and made you comfortable? Ungrateful. Tie him up, Angela. Be sure to use the ropes laced with Wolfsbane and sliver."

Lord only knew what they planned for him and they had the audacity to call him ungrateful? If his ears weren't still ringing, he'd have a few choice words to say to that. For now he settled for sticking up a pudgy middle finger while he waited for the black spots in his vision to clear. Jesus, that'd hurt-was still hurting and it took him a second to remember he wasn't healing at werewolf speed. At least it wasn't bleeding; blood would've been an absolute pain in the ass to get out of his curls.

He was still growling on instinct when Angela grabbed his wrists in a tight grip. "Come on, Sandy, tie it tight." She grunted, shifting back away from where Derek was trying to take a bite out her arm. With his human teeth, of course. He wasn't sure if he could turn her when he was like this, but he was not taking that chance. Fuck witches, he would rather be sacrificed on that smelly alter than have one of those women be part of his Pack.

Derek shuddered once the ropes were tied tight around his wrists, wrenching his shoulders back. He could already feel his strength, what little he'd had, dim and his binding's burn as they dug into his skin. And it hurt, dammit. He couldn't take this, not in this form, not after everything. His cheeks flushed warm as they easily lifted him from the forest floor and sat him down on the alter, the cold cement seeping through his clothes and sapping any of the warmth he'd had left. Jesus, he was going to cry, please no, don't let him cry and his vision blurred. The angry witches approaching him with their voodoo bled together in a blur of colors as the first tears caught in his eyelashes.

Don't cry, don't cry! You've been through worse! Fuck yeah, he had, but his body didn't agree. I want my Pack. I want Stiles. The Wolfsbane stung and cut into soft skin, trails of blood ran down his hands and tears soaked his cheeks. I want Stiles. God help him, he felt like such a baby. Even as he was now, he was an adult and yet here he was wishing someone would save him. His eyes ached, his chest ached and he just wanted his Pack here to coo and fuss over him again. He wanted Isaac scenting him and brushing his bangs out of his face, Stiles carrying him around on his bony hip and taking care of him.

He just wanted to go back to Stiles' house and crawl into his bed and sleep. Passing out sounded fucking amazing right now, though that was probably the knot on his head talking.

Lady Vadoma watched him with a calculated gaze, the other two women back to hustling around with their supplies. "Enough." The old woman finally said, coming to stand by Derek. He was ashamed he flinched back away from her wrinkled hand as it reached out to pet his curls, his wolf screaming at him to bite-to howl. To howl, oh there was a thought. "Let's begin before someone decides to get brave again."

Which was when Angela pulled out a long, thin knife from the trailer and gave an excited smile. He'd never seen a blade like this one before, it was kind of shaped like an ice pick. The damned thing looked like it was more for stabbing than slicing. The tip glinted wickedly at him, and the handle was an ivory elephant tusk with symbols carved into it.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Angela gushed, shoving the knife at him so he had a better look. "You see how sharp the tip is? It's for bleeding its victims dry. Pretty neat, huh?" Lightening quick, she struck out with the stickle and Derek gasped in surprise when the tip pierced his hip deep enough to scrape over bone. The puncture wound immediately began to spill blood, staining his clothes and spurting out almost comically. There wasn't any pain at first, before a deep resonating ache began.

Hair sprouted along the sides of his face and his fangs popped out. Derek bit off a whimper. Shit, that was a lot of blood. A clay bowl was shoved under the stream just as it leaked onto the stone beneath him. The bitch in the sundress looked way too happy about draining him while the old gypsy woman watched on with a blank gaze, arms crossed over her chest. Sandy, the soccer mom was the only one looking unsure of what was transpiring. In fact, she looked horrified.

Derek was pretty damn horrified himself.

A symphony of howls rang into the night followed by nearby sounds of fighting. Probably his pack had run into the Golem that'd been sent to guard the outskirts of the camp. Oh shit, how could they possibly beat a creature that felt no pain-a vessel, sweetness-that wouldn't die unless Lady Vadoma ended the spell or died herself?

"That's it." Angela cooed as his blood filled the bowl, the salty, copper smell making him ill and dizzy. He hissed lowly at her and swiped at her with his claws half-heartedly, which earned him an open palm slap to the side of his head and a giggle. "Aren't you just the cutest little Alpha? Think your pack will miss you when you're gone, or just be disappointed none of them will be there to take your power for themselves? We're going to take all of it, every last drop of power that you carry inside of you, love bug."

"Fuck you." His head was spinning, he just kept bleeding. "You don't know my pack." Maybe in the past they would've wanted Derek dead, but everyone knew each other better, now. And even if they didn't get along all the time, Scott and the rest of them were a good group and wouldn't hurt anyone if they didn't have to.

"That's right, bitch, so back off!" Someone yelled and the ladies surrounding him went tense. He did, too, but for a completely different reason.

"Stiles." He breathed in relief, absolute pure relief as his body began to shake and vibrate. And then the cold fear came back as he realized the teen was standing there with nothing but a wooden bat and no backup. "What-what are you doing here? Where are the others?"

Stiles stood panting, sweating and looking furious in his night pants and red hoodie. His converses were untied and he gripped the bat tight in two hands as he starred down the witches. Then his eyes caught sight of Angela holding a filling bowl of blood to the gash in his abdomen and his eyes went murderous. "The others will get here as soon as they can, not that I can't totally handle this. Really, Der, have a little more confidence in me, please." Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "And, you-creepy lady in the sundress, get the hell away from him."

Lady Vadoma swayed closer to Derek's side. Stiles tracked her with a narrowed gaze as she began petting over his curls with a wrinkled hand. "You do not understand, boy-what you mess with, the power you're interfering with. If you leave now, you will not die. Think of your father, how upset he would be if you died here tonight."

"What?" Stiles' mouth popped open and his knuckles went white on the bat's handle.

The old woman's face spread into a wicked smile, her pointed teeth peeking from underneath her thin lips and Derek's stomach rolled.

"Shit, is she psychic, Der? Really, what the hell is this world coming to? Of course the insane old lady trying to sacrifice toddlers is also apparently psychic. Why the hell not?"

"I'm not actually a toddler, Stiles." Derek reminded softly, swallowing down his fear. Now was not the time to freak out.

"Close enough. Anyone who can bleed someone who looks like a toddler is evil enough for me." And he had a point. Derek was not denying any of these women were anything less than evil and not just a little insane. "Now, why don't you ladies do everyone a favor and turn Derek back into his grumpy older self, huh? Not that he isn't adorable as shit like this, but I'd really rather he was back to normal and healing like he's supposed to be. And you-miss sundress, I warned you to step back already-you too grandma! Don't make me get violent because I totally will."

The witches couldn't look any less impressed, he was pretty sure. Surprisingly, none of them moved from their spots and Derek's blood still inked into the bowl, though it was at a slower pace now as it neared the rim. Thank God, he wasn't sure how much blood he could bleed before he ran out in this body.

This is a short chapter, sorry. I just wanted to post something so you-anyone who's actually still reading this-will know that I haven't given up on it.