Chapter Thirteen

...

An explosion rang out, a fire alarm started to blare, and even without Tomika yelling two names, Stiles knew that something had gone horribly wrong. Neither name was Derek's, so Stiles forced himself to focus on that silver lining before he turned to his peers.

Without really meaning to, Stiles took charge. Sean watched in surprise as the recruits actually responded to him without question. Stiles was used to talking and not having anyone listen, but now with authority in his voice and first-hand knowledge of how to survive when shit went down, people sat up and listened.

"Marcie, Grant, see if you can find out who set the explosion off," Stiles said, Marcie turning invisible as she ran out, Grant a step behind her. "Teresa, Mia, try to get out of here first and make sure no one leaves the designated meeting area," he said, both leaving at a run. "Jorge, Yelena, get as many people out of the building as you can and keep an eye out for anyone trying to escape out of service or other access doors. Li, Kuhle, get to the higher levels and make sure no one's trapped or being held hostage. Set off every fire alarm in the area if there are; emergency services will get to you faster," Stiles said, all four leaving with their instructions. "Tomika, you're with me. Sean, uh, sorry... Sir, can we be escorted to Agent McCall's office, please?" Stiles ended, realising that his instructor wasn't just going to hand over his access card.

Stiles was anxious about Derek and needed to see him with his own eyes before he'd be assured that he was all right. Just because Tomika hadn't yelled his name, it didn't mean he was unharmed.

Sean didn't hesitate, but nodded and led Stiles and Tomika out of the room. There were already a large amount of people in the hallways, but Sean walked straight without stopping and they all parted before him to make a path. Stiles and Tomika stuck as close to Sean as possible, trying not to step on anyone's toes along the way.

The elevators could be overridden during a fire alarm with the right access card, and Sean was able to get an elevator so they wouldn't be stuck trying to get up far too many stairs with far too many people blocking their way. The elevator music was a stark contrast to the shouting and the second explosion that rocked the building a moment later. The elevator doors opened to McCall's floor and complete and utter chaos.

Stiles didn't wait for Tomika or Sean, sprinting straight for McCall's office where he knew Derek would be. A brief burst of his spark had people moving for him and Stiles reached the door in a matter of seconds, only to see Derek lying motionless on the floor. His eyes widened and he ran over to Derek, skidding to his knees by his side.

"Derek? Hey, Derek, come on, wake up. Get up," he called, lightly tapping Derek's cheeks. "Come on, man, you've gotta get up. You can't die on me again. Please, Derek," Stiles said, a hint of hysteria in his voice.

Derek couldn't be... No, Stiles refused to finish that thought. He had to believe that Derek would wake up, that he'd be all right, that he would survive.

"Who did this?!" Stiles asked, his voice little more than a snarl as he turned on the others in the office.

Rafe wasn't proud of the fact that he flinched back at the sight of Stiles' eyes glowing blue.

One of the Druids looked at Stiles for a second - recognising him for what he was - before answering. "Steve. He... He worked with me. He saved my life a year ago," the Druid said, sounding confused and hurt at their friend's betrayal.

"I need something that belonged to him. Now!" Stiles snapped.

All three werewolves darted out of the room immediately.

"Stiles?" Derek mumbled, eyes unfocused and blinking a few times.

The blue faded from Stiles' eyes in an instant and he looked to Derek, cupping his face as he helped him sit up. "I'm here, Der. You're all right."

Derek smiled, big and broad and trusting. Then his smile faded and he grabbed Stiles' wrist, holding it up and counting his fingers.

"You're awake, Der. I promise," Stiles said, Derek looking relieved at his words even before he finished counting.

Rafe felt as though he was intruding on a personal moment and didn't know whether he should turn around to give them privacy or not. He didn't get a chance because the three werewolves returned with Tomika and Sean on their heels, the werewolves carrying an odd assortment of items, presumably belonging to Steve.

"We found his desk," Tasha said, dropping her armful of random crap beside Stiles.

Okami and Caleb quickly did the same, and it would have been amusing if not for the fact that Rafe realised they were afraid of Stiles. To see werewolves - who were practically indestructible, in his mind - terrified of a young man that they could probably bench press was surprising to say the least.

Rafe had spent years analysing people and their emotions, the tell-tale signs for lying and hiding things, and it was only because of those skills that he realised the three werewolves weren't just afraid of Stiles, but afraid of disappointing him. Their expressions didn't tell him more than that and Rafe wondered what the hell was going on.

"Thank you," Stiles said, the three werewolves immediately relaxing at his words.

Stiles sorted through pens, notebooks, stationery, and stopped when he found a comb. It was somewhat melted but still useable and Stiles' fingertips flickered with blue sparks when he grabbed it from the pile. He looked up and saw the witch, his head tilted to the side. "Would you mind helping me?"

Sara nodded and stepped forward without hesitation, something akin to reverence in her expression. Rafe still had no idea what was going on, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. Stiles and Sara held the comb tightly, green and blue melding in a colourful sphere around their joined hands, and they chanted something in sync - Latin, perhaps? - with their words echoing and reverberating throughout the office. Even the shouting and blare of alarms from outside Rafe's destroyed office seemed dull in comparison.

Then, without any warning, the two colours finished melding and burst out in a bright string of light, pointing straight out of the office and down towards the parking lot. Stiles barely had to glance at the werewolves before they were gone, following the line of light.

"Come on, Derek; let's get you out of here," Stiles said, standing and lifting Derek to his feet, carefully wrapping Derek's arm around his shoulders.

Derek still looked groggy and unsteady, his face bloodied, but Rafe didn't dare suggest to help carry him. Stiles walked out of the office with Derek's arm slung around his shoulders, Derek's head bleeding and his eyes unfocused as they stumbled through the chaos and smoke, and over to the elevators.

"I've got you, Derek. I promise," Stiles murmured, his voice soft in the noise around them, but Derek heard anyway.

"I know," he replied, holding onto Stiles a little tighter.

Rafe snapped out of his daze and realised that he was still meant to be in charge. "Everyone head outside. Bring as many people with you as you can," he added.

There were firm nods in response and Rafe left to determine how the rest of his division had fared from Steve's betrayal.

...

End of the thirteenth chapter.