Still sitting on the bed in the hotel room, Stiles used all of his senses and knew he was truly alone. Derek's scent was hours old and seeing that it was barely nine in the morning, the older man had to have snuck out near dawn.

What had he done wrong? Did he realize Stiles was only going to bring him trouble? Was it because he was so ugly? Worthless? Why did Derek heal him if he didn't want anything more to do with him?

Oh shit, Stiles realized, he was never invited to stay the night. He'd simply fallen asleep, more satisfied and sated and content than he'd ever been in his entire life. That must have been what pissed the alpha off and made him leave. Stiles put him in an awkward position of not only dealing with an unwanted guest the next morning, but also being at risk of being seen with him by the people of the town.

Tears began flowing as he cursed himself and began gathering up his clothing and slipping them on. Stiles had no basis for dealing with a situation like this. He let everything he had be visible to Derek, exposed his literal underbelly for him. Now he felt like it would have been best if the older wolf had slit his throat instead of offering him pleasure. He could never un-know what happened. He would never forget the mind-bending pleasure, the gift of wonder and joy that Derek gave him. The rest of his life would be spent knowing what he was missing out on. He no longer knew if it was worth it to try.

Stiles allowed himself one last treat, he went to the bed and pressed his nose to Derek's pillow, taking the scent deeply into him and embedding it even more into his memory. Then he went to the door, opened it and poked his head out. He would not cause the alpha any extra problems if he could avoid them. When he saw the hall was empty, he trotted down the hall to the staircase and opened the door, again peeking to see if the way was clear. It was and he rushed down the stairs, tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks, though he did his best to mop them up with his shirt. A part of him thanked Derek again for healing him. He would never have been able to move this quickly if he hadn't. Reaching the bottom floor, he headed for the back exit that would lead out into the alleyway instead of exiting through the front. That was his first bad decision of the day. There was a group of kitchen employees hanging out in the alley, smoking and laughing. When they saw Stiles, they dropped what was in their hands and came toward him. He turned and sprinted the other way, hearing their laughs, knowing that trying to outrun a group of betas and alphas was useless, but he had to try.

Being pain free was nice while it lasted.

. . . . .

"I don't want to hear anymore! I told you, I am not going through with an arranged mating and that is the end of it! I have found my mate and I will claim him. But first, I'll speak to the family of the omega you made the commitment to and make my apologies. I will even take the complete blame so you won't have to be too ashamed," Derek told his parents, his tone scathing.

"You have found your mate? What do you mean? You told us you were single! Is this why you didn't come back? Who is this whore who took you from your obligations?" his mother demanded, her crimson eyes staring him down.

Derek roared in fury, his fangs punching through his gums so violently, they almost cut through his lips. He got right in his mother's face, his own red eyes glaring into hers. "You will not speak of him like that! You will not speak of him at all, do I make myself clear?" He was never violent toward women or his mother, but he was close to the edge of reason.

His mother's face was flushed with fury. After a long moment of glaring, however, she tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, signaling her compliance and submission. Derek's eyes glittered with victory. Finally, after all these years, he was the one laying down the law.

"Now, give me the contract so I can go and make my apologies," he demanded.

His mother stormed from the room without a word, leaving him alone with his father. He knew it was time for the older wolf to try one more guilt trip.

"Son, why are you doing this? We only want what is best for you. This match is beneficial to us, I mean you. We picked this omega just for you," Alexander said, his voice wheedling.

"Uh huh. And assuming I went along with your plans, what would this fine union bring you?"

"More power in the Shifter Senate," his response was automatic. He slapped his hand over his mouth in shock then narrowed his eyes in anger. "You did that on purpose," he accused.

"Yep, I sure did and I got truth out of you, didn't I? This has nothing to do with me or this omega, it has to do with you and their parents wanting more power which equals money. How lovely of you to plan the future of two individuals for money. This isn't the dark ages anymore, Father. You can't just play with people's lives for no reason other than greed. I would be shocked if I didn't expect this exact thing from you," Derek said with disgust. "I don't think people even plan arranged matings anymore, it's outdated and unnecessary. It was used to bring strength to a pack, to forge alliances, to bring new blood to a pack. This was all about money and position. It makes me sick."

"This is about more than you, Derek. Why are you being selfish?" he asked, changing tactics and adopting his 'lecturing dad' voice.

"Because I want to be, how about that?" Derek said with a sarcastic grin. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about my claiming ceremony because you aren't invited. You also aren't invited to the naming ceremony of any of our children or even to afternoon tea." He was practically giddy as he spoke, loving the shocked look on his father's face. Part of him, though, got lost in the thought of Stiles and their claiming, a beautifully rounded belly, and little pups with brown hair and irresistible whiskey eyes. Oh how he loved that omega, he thought, the L-word shocking him as it came to him so easily. Could it really happen that fast? He guessed it could and did when it came to fated mates.

His dad's eyes suddenly grew keen. "You really love him, don't you?" him voice was soft, a gentle tone he hadn't heard since he was a pup.

Staring at him suspiciously, he nodded. "I believe I do."

He'd spent the early morning hours working out, too excited to sleep as he came to grips with the changes that were about to upend his life. Instead of freaking out, he found himself welcoming them.

His first order of business was to call his Uncle Peter. The older wolf left the family years before when they tried to get him to marry for status only weeks after his beloved mate passed away while giving birth to their pup. After giving his loud, enraged opinion, he disappeared from Beacon Hills and the family. After Derek moved to New York, Peter showed up at his apartment and they got to know one another again. Though Peter was a bit odd and prone to anger and a thirst for violence, a deep friendship and familial bond formed between them. Now Derek considered him his best friend and confidante.

That morning he told Peter all about Stiles and promptly talked his uncle down from coming to Beacon Hills to start killing all the people who'd abused the sweet omega. Peter grudgingly relented and agreed to oversee the changes Derek wanted done to his house in exchange for a dinner invitation as soon as Stiles arrived in New York. Derek agreed then called his housekeeper and gave her a list of things to be done before he brought his mate home. Included in that was letting Peter and a crew in to turn one of the upstairs rooms of his house into an art studio. He'd told them to contact a local art school and get a list of needed and desired items to surprise his mate. He could just imagine the look of joy on his sweet face when he got his first glimpse of it.

After a long silence, his father looked back at him and smiled sadly. "You are lucky."

"Father?" he asked, suddenly aware in a way he hadn't been before, that his parent's relationship wasn't a love match. Did his omega father feel nothing for his mother?

"Here you are, the address is at the bottom. We haven't been in contact since the omega came of age and you never showed up. I don't imagine they will be very happy to see you. They paid a lot of money in preparation for the ceremony," his mother said as she came into the room. She handed an aged envelope to Derek and stepped back. "I won't be here if you need money or connections in the future," she warned. "Not unless you change your mind."

His father, whom he thought he'd shared a real moment with, nodded along.

"Neither one will happen. Unlike you, Mother, I made my own money and I have a lot of it. I wish you both health and happiness," he said, giving them a mocking bow. "Take care now!" With that, he left his childhood home with no plans to ever return. He felt no sadness and really, no anger either. He felt nothing and that let him know he was making the right choice.

Sliding into his truck, he started the engine and opened the envelope. His parents had promised him to the oldest Stilinski child, name and gender unlisted. The address was easy to locate and he found himself speeding along the roads eagerly. One more errand and he could return to his omega. He hoped the young wolf was enjoying the room, maybe taking a long bath to soak his body in. When he got back, he would have to have a serious talk with Stiles, let him know his plans. Something in him knew the omega felt the same as him. Hopefully, he would be willing to share his arranged alpha's name with him so Derek could go with him and break it off with the alpha's family. What was it with the parents in this town arranging marriages? He wondered if any of his old classmates had ended up in matched pairs. Then they could pack up Stiles' belongings and go home. Home. It had a richer sound to it now. He had something to look forward to and it was exciting.

He pulled up to the Stilinski residence and immediately saw the Sheriff's car parked in the driveway. He realized this may not be a richer family than his, but they did have pull in the legal and judicial system of Beacon Hills. No wonder Talia Hale had wanted an arrangement with them.

He was let in by an older woman whose eyes looked familiar to him, he'd seen the shape of them somewhere before. She obviously wanted nothing to do with him and walked away from him after he introduced himself. Standing in the entryway, he waited for someone to join him. An average looking man walked down the hall and stared at him for a long moment. He had brown hair and light colored eyes, though he couldn't see the color. There was nothing extraordinary about this man, but Derek could tell he was used to power, used to having his own way in life. Not this time, he thought.

"Sir, my name is…"

"Derek Hale. Yes, I know. John Stilinski. You must be here about the arrangement. I don't suppose you plan to go through with it after all these years," he said, a cultured tone of bored superiority in his voice.

"No, sir. I wanted to apologize for not contacting you sooner. I wanted to come in person to let you know that I am breaking the contract," he said, not offering any excuses. There were none, other than that he didn't want his life ran for him. He would remain as polite as possible to save his family an embarrassment as he'd promised.

"I accept. Thank you for letting me know," the man started to turn away.

Derek was confused. He was certain he would be blamed or lectured or yelled at, anything other than this polite indifference. Not that he minded. He did have to offer one more thing though.

"Would you like me to speak to the omega? I'm sorry, I don't even know their name," Derek said sincerely. It wasn't the omega's fault in all this. It was Derek's, completely. He owed the omega a sincere apology.

John Stilinski waved his hand. "Don't even worry about it. It's not worth it. You did your duty and I appreciate it. If you don't mind showing yourself out, I have a meeting to attend this morning."

"Of course. Thank you for sparing the time to talk to me," Derek said, finding the exchange odd. Why had the man said it wasn't worth it? Maybe he was avoiding hurting his child's feelings by having to face the man who had never claimed them.

The man just waved again and Derek made his way back to his truck. Once inside, he ripped up the envelope and felt a sense of freedom he hadn't expected. He guessed it wasn't too farfetched. After feeling trapped by his parents demands for eighteen years and then trapped by a contract for the last ten and then being free from it would make anyone feel relief. If he thought he was going fast before, he knew he would end up getting a ticket if he wasn't careful as he sped back to the hotel. Soon he would hold his omega in his arms, and as he'd planned, by the day's end, they would be free and clear to be mated.

. . . . .

"Look who we have here," came a cold voice.

Stiles was currently being held against the brick wall of the building across from the hotel by the kitchen staff. The beta kitchen workers and alpha chef had been taking turns spitting on him and punching him. Though he was gritting his teeth in pain from the latest punch to his stomach, he still recognized the voice. It was his number one tormentor who, no matter where he was or who was kicking his ass, still managed to show up and add in his own special brand of torture. Jackson Whittemore was the son of the mayor and had never once been charged for assaulting Stiles even when he was caught punching him or kicking him or, his personal favorite form of abuse, burning him with various materials.

He looked over, praying to the gods for mercy, to either kill him or help him get away. Jackson was sliding out of his fancy, silver Porsche, his alpha frame suddenly appearing to fill the area. Stiles began to wonder if the gods were choosing to answer his prayer with death. His hair stood on end in a sudden rise in his fear. Jackson wasn't giving his usual arrogant smirk, he looked sincerely pissed off.

"I heard some news, omega. I heard that you were hanging out with a new alpha in town. I am wondering why that is. You know my opinion on you spreading your dirty omega blood around, don't you?" he asked.

He was referring to Jackson's constant preaching that Stiles had some sort of disease since he looked different than other omegas and had repelled his arranged mate. Stiles had to wonder if his arranged claim would have brought some sort of benefit to Jackson's family. The alpha seemed to take the situation almost personally. It was his belief that Stiles needed to stay away from people so he didn't spread his 'disease' around.

Jackson's obsession was one of the many reasons Scott said they needed to not hang out. He didn't want Stiles to get hurt from being around Scott. Right. Stiles believed that as much as he believed that Scott was a true friend.

Jackson walked up to him, the betas holding him against the wall tighter so he couldn't get away. Not that he would have a chance even if he did. Omegas were slower and with the pain already radiating through his body, there was no way he could even run.

Cold blue eyes glared into his as Jackson got in his face. "I've warned you, bitch. Now I guess it's time to teach you a lesson. Don't you agree?"

Stiles knew better than to respond. Any time he had tried to plead or talk his way out of things, it would go worse for him. He just tilted his head to the side, showing submission, though he truly felt none. He just wanted to go home, have a good cry over Derek and maybe sleep for a week or two.

Jackson smiled coldly, his eyes promising pain. "I'm glad you see things my way. Maybe when I'm done with you, you'll remember to keep your distance from the good people of this town, whether they live here or are just passing through."

A huge fist plowed into his rib cage and he threw his head back, his scream turning to a gasp as his rib broke under the force of the blow.

"Nice one," one of the beta workers said with a chuckle.

"I do try," Jackson grinned, reaching into his pocket.

Stiles couldn't help but whimper in fear and pain when Jackson's hand reappeared with a familiar flip lighter. Jackson held his family ring over the flame until the metal was nearly glowing with heat.

Jackson leaned close and whispered. "I want to leave a lasting impression. Of course, because you'll just heal, we'll have to repeat as needed."

With that, the ring touched his stomach and he began to scream.

. . . . .

Stiles limped into his apartment and locked the door, holding his arm gently against his tender ribs. He knew one was broken again and he needed to get some ice on it because it felt like he couldn't get a full breath. Jackson had managed to burn him several times before an older couple came through the alley, wondering at his cries of pain. Not that the couple would fight for him, but they provided a much needed distraction.

As soon as they released him, he had darted through the alleys and back roads he learned a long time ago that led him safely home. Needless to say there were a myriad of short cuts and alternate routes because more than once he'd been followed. Most people knew where he lived, but tended to leave him alone there. The cops would actually come out if he called them to his apartment. Anywhere else, they would claim he was the one causing the trouble.

Just as he grabbed a wide ice pack that would cover his ribs, the sound of ringing made him jump and his body protested with a burst of pain. He moaned and reached for his phone.

"Hello?"

"Well, you finally did it," his father's voice came through loud and clear as if he were standing in the room, glaring at him.

"What do you mean?" Stiles couldn't bring himself to really care, but he had been raised to be polite, so he went through the motions. He made his way to his well-stocked first aid kit in the bathroom for some burn cream.

"Your alpha showed up," he announced.

Stiles' heart leapt and sank as he froze in place. Was this the day he had been waiting on for five years? How would he let another alpha touch him after Derek? Not that the alpha wolf wanted him as shown by his blatant absence that morning.

"Should I come over? Is he still there?" He couldn't help being a bit excited. Maybe now everyone would stop treating him like garbage. He could prove that he really was a good omega, that he could please his alpha.

His father laughed coldly. "Really? You really think he came here for you? Nope. He showed up, all nice and respectable, just as we'd hoped. Then he told us he was breaking the mating contract. He doesn't want anything to do with you. Congratulations, you really did chase away a perfectly good alpha. Your reputation must have preceded you."

Stiles felt nauseous. Broke the contract? "What? I… I don't understand." He felt foggy-headed and lost in the words being thrown at him.

"What don't you understand, you worthless omega? All you had to do was be polite and attractive and you couldn't even pull that off. No, you had to be ugly and different. We gave you every advantage in life and you still failed. Well done, you useless piece of trash! I can't believe we wasted eighteen years on your obnoxious…"

Stiles sat there and listened as his father continued to rail at him, calling him every name in the book, each one being etched into his heart and mind. All of his faults laid out for him to see. Then, if that weren't enough, his mother got on the phone and began again. If only she'd had a daughter, she claimed. A daughter would have been able to capture the attention of such an attractive, wealthy, intelligent alpha. But no, not him.

His father got back on the phone. "And don't even think about contacting us again. I will have you arrested for harassment. Do you hear me, you useless sack of shit?"

"I hear you," Stiles whispered hoarsely through tears he didn't even register falling down his cheeks.

"Rot in hell, omega," were the last words his father spoke to him before hanging up.

He sat frozen, unable to move, to really contemplate what just happened. Life was bad, sure, but there was always a sliver of hope in the back of his mind. Hope that his alpha would show up and take him away from all of this. Now there was no hope. The events of the last five years ran through his mind. The names, the abuse. Getting spit on, ran over, beat up, pushed down, shoved, stomped on, kicked, punched, slapped, pinched, and hurt. So much hurt, emotional even more so than physical. Hurt from loneliness, from the desire for a friendly word or touch. It was all too much.

Getting up, he numbly went to the blank canvas sitting in the corner. Without much thought, he picked up his paintbrush and palette and began preparing to paint. After an hour, he stood back, looking at the painting. With a final brushstroke, it was finished. And so was he. Dropping his palette and brush on the table, he went and moved the bookcase that blocked his sliding glass door crying out as the strain pulled at his ribs, making him tremble in pain. He was almost done. Once the door was exposed, he opened it wide and stripped his clothes off.

It took him a moment to get in touch with his wolf who had been so alive just the night before. But he wouldn't think about that anymore. Connecting with the tired, beat down animal inside him, he freed it and felt the shift take over. He grunted and groaned loudly, the shift rough on his bruises and broken bones. Then he was the wolf. The pain was less. All he knew was 'escape'. It was time to go. Time to free himself from the world around him. Time to escape the pain. Alone.