Wild Heart – Chapter 4

Stiles was walking in the woods of Beacon Hills Preserve. He could see the trees in the dim light, he could feel the leaves and twigs breaking beneath his feet as he walked and there was something very wrong about it, because he knew that he shouldn't be in the forest, mainly not at night, alone and in the rain. He knew there was rain because he could hear the noise of the thunder and feel his hair getting wet. He looked around, though it was night, he could see the shape of the trees very well, but it did not eased the feeling that he was lost. Oh, his dad wouldn't like that, he wouldn't like that at all. Only Scott could have convinced him to come to the forest, that bastard. He would kill Scott as soon as he found him.

"Scott!" He called out to his friend and all he heard in response was the sound of a grig nearby. "Scott!" He called again, still having no answer.

Stiles did not know how long he had been walking aimlessly in the forest, it seemed it has been an eternity because his ankle hurt like hell. Had he sprained his ankle without realized it ? Stiles stopped walking. Scott was so screwed.

Tired, Stiles sat on the ground over the leaves. He wasn't giving a damn if his clothes would get dirty. He was tired, lost, hurt and he wanted to rest. It was then when he heard right ahead the sound of rustling leaves. He looked ahead and saw a dark figure among the trees.

Stiles felt the blood freeze in his veins. There was something there in the woods, something non-human, something dangerous. The boy knew he had to move, he knew he had to get his ass off the ground and run away as if he were in a fucking marathon, but he just couldn't move. He was paralyzed by the fear. When he realized, the dark figure was coming towards him, Stiles tried to open his mouth to scream for help, but no sound came from his mouth. He couldn't do anything but stand there like an idiot, waiting for whatever that was to approaching him and kill him.

When the dark figure came out from behind the trees, the boy could see that the creature was a wolf, a huge black wolf with bright green eyes. Stiles could feel his heart racing inside his chest as the scary creature approached.

"I'm going to die, now I'm really going to die! Man, I never went to Disneyland, I never gave Scott's shirt back to him, I never told Lydia that I have a crush on her since kindergarten. I never hit Jackson in the face." Funny are the things we think when we are about to die."My dad, damn, my dad will be pissed!" Stiles took a deep breath. "Well, since he'll rip my guts, I don't want to see it." he said and closed his eyes.

He stood there with his eyes shut, waiting for the pain that never came. After a while in which nothing happened, Stiles risked opening one eye and saw that the wolf was sitting on its hind legs, watching him. Stiles opened both his eyes and stared back at the wolf. The wolf was not growling, nor seemed to want to harm him, he just looked at Stiles with those bright green eyes, too human to be normal. Stiles dared to say that he could see an expression on the face of the animal, it was like the wolf was frowning. That was ridiculous, Stiles knew that wolves, dogs or whatever it was could not frown. But then, that wolf was everything but normal.

Then, the wolf approached Stiles, pressing his muzzle into the boy's neck. The wolf then licked Stiles jaw and, strangely enough, he no longer felt afraid. The wolf came closer and curled around Stiles, resting his huge head on his lap, wrapping his tail around Stiles waist in a protective-wolfy hug. Stiles found it comforting somehow. Whatever were the dangers he could find in that forest, that wolf was not one of them, at least not for Stiles.

Stiles opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He was lying on his side in the dark. He could hear the sound of the rain falling somewhere far away. He shivered and reached out to grab his blanket to cover himself and frowned when didn't found it. Stiles raised his head slightly to search for the blanket that had probably fallen from his bed when a horrible pain hit his head like a baseball bat. It was as if his head were about to explode. He groaned, feeling tears come to his eyes. His ankle was also hurting like hell and all this pain made him dizzy. He tried to curl into a ball, but there was something stopping him from moving. Stiles reached in the dark and touched a strong arm that was carefuly settled around his waist. As if it wasn't enough, he felt a strong chest pressed against his back. Stiles panicked. The boy felt his heart pounding in his chest. He remembered that he was in the forest, but not much else, his mind was blurred because of the pain and dizziness. Had something bad happened? Like, something really really bad? He heard the man behind him making a very strange sound, like a growl, but it was a low growl. More than listening, Stiles felt the growl vibrating in his back, since his back was pressed against the man's chest, and it only made him become more desperate.

"Get off me!" Stiles said desperately, but his voice sounded strange as if his tongue was numb. There was also a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to struggle, but the arms holding him were strong and held in place, moreover, any move he made sent a wave of pain that made him whimper.

Stiles didn't need to be 100% awake to know that waking up sore and cuddling with a stranger was not a good thing. God, what was going on?

"Please, get off me!"

Then he felt gentle fingers touching his neck and the pain suddenly was gone. Stiles still struggled for a while, and the fingers gave room for lips which were brushing Stiles earlobe ever so slightly.

"Please... don't ..."

"Don't move. You're hurt." The man said hoarsely but soothing. "I'll keep you safe."

Stiles felt the man nuzzling his neck and tightening his hold around him, bringing him closer. Stiles felt panic fade away gradually as the man held him firmly in his grasp and continued to growl softly, as if he was purring. Just like the wolf in his dream. And just like in the dream, Stiles could felt himself calming down. There was no more pain, no more fear, only the warmth of that stranger body against his. Stiles wished he could find this weird, deep down inside he was finding it pretty weird. There was a part in the back of his brain - the wise part, which he rarely listened, by the way - that was screaming, waving and jumping, trying to draw his attention to the fact that Stiles could be a potential victim of kidnapping and rape, the man, - whom Stiles had not seen the face yet, but pictured as if having green eyes - he could be a psychopath. And he was growling! For the love of God, that wasn't normal.

But, there was another part of his brain, - probably the damaged part - and it was telling him that he was safe. He felt safe. Stiles fought to stay awake, but the vibrating rumble was like a pleasant white noise that gradually was driving him to slumber again. Stiles gave up fighting and relaxed in those arms. His eyelids were so heavy, he would just close his eyes for a minute, just a minute ...

The dream that Stiles had after falling asleep in the arms of the stranger was not as bizarre as the first, it was actually a very simple and pleasant dream, starting with him and his father eating dinner and talking, then the dream turned into Stiles and Scott playing in the yard. Stiles woke a second time that night, his dizziness was worse than it was before, however he was still fortunately free of pain. He felt someone holding his head gently and pouring a little water into his mouth. Stiles was thirsty, so he drank the water without protest. The person laid him down again and he felt those warm arms wrapping around him again. He fell in sleep almost instantly.

The third time he woke, Stiles was not feeling so dizzy. He reluctantly opened his eyes and saw that it was already morning. The first thing he noticed when his eyes came into focus was that he was in a house, probably in the living room. He stirred and realized that there was no arm holding him still. He sat and the room spun for a minute before everything went quiet again. He looked down where he was lying and saw that he had been lying in a pile of clothes. He looked around. There was no one there beside him, he was alone. Everything seemed destroyed and depressing. The walls were black and the smell of burnt wood was poignant. Where was he?

That really wasn't a good time for his head to start to hurt again. It was a throbbing pain behind his head. He brought his hand to the point where the pain was coming from and noticed that there was a bandage there. Stiles frowned and tried not to panic again. One leg of his trousers were torn and his ankle was wrapped in bandage too. He tried to move his toes and managed to do it without too much pain, so he assumed that his ankle was only sprained and not broken.

"Facts, Stiles, cling to the facts." He muttered to himself.

Fact 1 : He was hurt.

Fact 2 : He could smell the dirt, leaves and pine, then he was in the Preserve.

Fact 3 : Someone was taking care of him, he did not know who or why, but they were taking care of him.

Fact 4: That house was burned, so he could only assume he was in the Hale House, in the middle of the Preserve.

In that moment, all the memories from last night came back. He remembered the challenge, the stupid challenge of having to spend the night in the woods. He remembered walking alone through the woods and be chased by a huge freaking wolf. He fell. He hit his head and then ...

"You should be resting." Stiles heard a deep voice say behind him.

Startled, Stiles tried to turn around to see where the voice came from and this really was not a good idea, his head was spinning again. He whimpered hiding his face in his hands. He did not hear the footsteps approaching him and he jumped when he felt fingers touching his neck and rubbing small soothing circles. Once more, suddenly his pain was gone. The stranger was there, the same stranger who had been with him all night and he said nothing, just kept his hand on his neck. Stiles looked up, he wanted to see who was this person who had probably saved his life.

He was startled to see the man kneeling in front of him invading his personal space, his face too close it could have been rude. He remembered those green eyes, that angular face, those sharp cheekbones, his stubble. Stiles couldn't stop to look at the man. He wore jeans and a black 'V' neck t-shirt. (Derek had dressed before the boy wakes up, thinking he'd be bothered to cuddling with a naked man) and wow, the guy was ... wow.

He was the handsome guy from his hallucination, that is, he was not a hallucination after all. The stranger was frowning, obviously concerned with Stiles.

"What is your name?" The man asked seriously still with his hand on his neck.

"Stiles. Uh, S-Stiles Stilinski" the boy stammered, feeling a bit puzzled with this intrusion of his personal space.

He saw the man musing for a minute and he frowned deeper.

"Stilinski? The Sheriff..."

"Yeah, he's my Dad." He saw the man's face soften a little and Stiles didn't know why.

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of seconds until Stiles cleared his throat and looked away. The stranger took it as a clue to pull away and he did, standing up and walking away from Stiles, heading to the other side of the room.

"And who are you?" Stiles asked curiously, after all it was fair enough that he knew the man's name.

"I..." He hesitated, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "My name is Derek." there was something in his tone that Stiles found strange, then - since the situation was not embarrassing enough - Derek said: "You should rest." He walked across the room followed by Stiles' eyes.

"No, man, I gotta go. My friends are waiting for me at the trial."

Stiles made a move to get up and before he knew it he heard a growl and there was a hand on his shoulder - a little less gentle this time - preventing him from getting up. Stiles looked up and saw Derek. How did he approached Stiles so fast if he was already on the other side of the room? Besides, ouch! Derek's hand was strong. His astonishment must have seemed obvious because Derek took his hand from Stiles' shoulder immediately and walked away a few steps. The expression on his face was a mixture of feelings and Stiles could not decide which one he should take into account. Anger, fear, confusion, and above all these, regret.

"Rest". Derek said with a heavy tone leaving no room for discussion.

He gave him his the packet of 'Pop Tarts' that was in Stiles' backpack and walked away, disappearing in some room of the house before Stiles could protest.

"Oh, god, this is bad."

9