Chapter Text
Tears spilled over and swam across Stiles’ cheeks. He made no attempt to wipe them away. He didn’t even notice them. The words kept repeating themselves. Over and over again.
You’re too young. You know nothing about love. You and I will never happen.
Stiles stumbled over a branch. He was able to stay on his feet, with help of his hands. Dried leaf pieces clung against his palm, attracted to the sweat. Stiles marched on, putting one foot after the other.
You’re too young.
Stiles’ phone rang. It was Scott. He was supposed to meet Scott at his place for a project an hour ago. Oh well. He stared at the phone until it stopped ringing, drunk on emotional pain. Somehow, his feet started moving again. Slowly. A few steps later, his phone buzzed again. It was a text message from Derek.
You know nothing about love.
Stiles didn’t even bother reading it. “FUCK YOU,” he screamed, throwing the phone away and wincing when he heard the phone smash against a tree. He inhaled sharply and a great sigh came out. Fresh tears emerged and joined the streams.
Stiles had no idea where he was. After Derek slammed him against that wall and shit all over his heart, Stiles just ran out. He left behind his jeep. He didn’t follow a trail. He just kept running, trying to run away from his tears. This part of the forest, he had never seen before. He was lost.
He couldn't care less.
You and I will never happen.
Stiles was really sure Derek felt the same way he did. He caught Derek staring at his lips whenever he’d slam him against a wall. He could see the desire in Derek’s eyes. Or was he just projecting his feelings?
That’s what hurt the most. Being wrong.
Stiles gave up his already-utterly-failed attempt to run from his tears. He collapsed against a tree and buried his head in his arms.
You and I will never happen.
Wanting Derek from afar wasn’t such a big deal. While Stiles’ feelings for Derek were stronger than the ones he had for Lydia, he thought he could handle it. If he was able to deal with a crush on Lydia since the third grade, he’d be able to deal with a crush on Derek. No big deal. Until he noticed Derek might share his feelings. That never happened with Lydia, not even at the dance.
Stiles put himself out there. He took a risk and was crushed mercilessly for it.
You and I will never happen.
A distinct werewolf smell snuck into Stiles’ nose. He looked up and saw a huge wolf standing in front of him, his teeth bared and his eyes glowing ultraviolet purple.
“Fuck off, Derek,” Stiles growled. He pulled his knees together and hid his head in between. He really didn’t want to see that asshole’s purple eyes.
Wait.
His eyes aren’t purple. They’re...
A paw slammed at Stiles’ head when he looked up to double-check the color.
Stiles blacked out before his head hit the dirt.
Derek sat down on his couch and sighed.
Derek knew he had been too harsh on Stiles, but it was necessary. Stiles was far too young. He knew from personal experience what it could mean, falling for someone much older than you. It never ends well.
Still, Derek hadn’t expected the amount of pain that poured out of Stiles as he ran from his ruin of a home. He had known that Stiles was attracted to him, he knew the moment he smelt his and Danny’s arousal in Stiles’ bedroom when Stiles had him change shirts for Danny’s amusement.
He didn’t realize Stiles’ infatuation had gone that far. Then again, Stiles is just a sixteen year old boy.
This was Derek’s fault. His wolf had identified several potential mates and for some reason, one of them was Stiles. The strongest possibility, in fact. Derek refused to accept that however; not just because it was wrong, but because it’s also illegal. Derek has had plenty of trouble with the law lately; fucking the sheriff’s underage son wasn’t going help.
Just because Derek said no didn’t mean his wolf had given up, though. His wolf liked slamming Stiles into walls and getting into his personal space. He would take in a deep inhale of Stiles’ scent when nobody was looking. Or so he thought.
They were alone, the pack dissipated after the meeting had ended. Stiles had offered to cook dinner for Derek (he cannot cook), and Derek accepted. Stiles’ a very good cook. That was the reason he said okay, Derek convinced himself.
After dinner was over, Derek picked up his and Stiles’ plates and headed for the sink. As Derek walked past Stiles, he couldn’t help but lean down and take a sniff of his aroma. Stiles turned and caught him red-handed. Rarely did Derek feel embarrassed, but this was one of those moments. He quickened his pace and dumped the dishes into the sink.
“You know, you keep doing that... might turn someone on,” Stiles teased, standing behind him. Derek rolled his eyes, but his wolf perked up. Stiles reached out and placed his hand on Derek's back. Derek whipped around and pushed Stiles against the wall. His eyes narrowed and flashed crimson red, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest. Then, Stiles kissed him. And Derek made the biggest mistake of his life.
He kissed back.
When Stiles’ lips brushed against his, Derek was taken aback, but his wolf was not. For the first time in his adult life, the wolf took over. Derek moaned into Stiles’ lips and spread them open with his tongue and explored the cavern that was Stiles’ mouth.
No, damn it, Derek. You imbecile.
Cursing his momentary lapse, Derek pushed off Stiles and his eyes flashed crimson in anger. “No, this can’t happen,” Derek growled.
Stiles pouted, “Why not? You want it, I can tell. Even without werewolfy superpowers. And obviously you know I want it.”
“You’re just a sixteen year old boy,” Derek snapped. “You’re too young.”
“That’s bullshit, how old were you when you hooked up with Kate?”
Derek grabbed Stiles' throat and slammed him against the wall again. “You know nothing about love,” roared Derek, barely suppressing his anger, his claw biting into Stiles' neck. “Nobody does at that age.”
Stiles’ brow furrowed as his scent started to change. The arousal was gone, replaced by fear. A different kind of fear. Derek didn’t recognize this scent.
“D-Derek--”
“Let’s get something clear right now,” Derek deadpanned. “You and I will never happen.”
It wasn’t fear that he was smelling, Derek realized. At least, not just fear. Fear and pain. Mostly pain.
Stiles’ eyes watered and he ran out before any of them could spill over. Derek watched him pull open the door and disappear from sight.
Stiles was vaguely aware that he was waking up. He could hear voices, but recognized none. The room was dark and empty. He tried to move but couldn’t because he was hanging from a rope by his hands. Naked.
A door opened and Stiles saw nothing but a bright light. Shadowy figures passed through the light and came toward him. One of them was carrying something that sloshed. It looked like a bucket.
The woman with the bucket pulled it up and dumped it on Stiles’ head. The sheer coldness pulled Stiles into reality completely.
“Jesus fuck, that was not necessary,” whined Stiles.
“I apologize for the rough treatment you’ve received,” someone said. “We thought you were a werewolf. You certainly smell like one.” A slender man came forward. He was neither tall nor dark, but he was handsome. He kept his dirty blond hair short and sported a thin beard.
“So. Care to explain why you smell like a werewolf?”
“Uhh... none of your business,” Stiles offered as an explanation. The man just laughed. He pulled out a chair from nowhere and sat down on it, front of Stiles.
“Hey dude, how about covering me up? I’m sixteen, you know. This is pedophilia. My father’s the sheriff, he’ll cut off all of your balls. Wait, you’re not the werepedobear pack, are you?”
The man’s mouth twisted into a sly smile. “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask you what your name is. Stilinski. Would that be fine with you, or would you prefer another name?”
Shit, I need to shut up. “Stiles is fine.”
“Stiles? I do hope that’s a nickname. Stiles, I’m Joseph Alcott, and this is my pack,” the man said and in unison, the eyes of his pack members glowed. Stiles saw a lot of colors.
“Oh look at that! Pretty eyes. Do you guys call yourselves the Rainbow Pack?”
A werewolf or two growled, but Joseph just laughed. “What an interesting... human to keep in a pack. You are in a pack, correct?”
“None of your business,” Stiles repeated.
“Oh, come on, Stiles. You should talk to us. My beta here,” Joseph gestured to a scruffy man with long hair and a stern look on his face, “likes torturing other werewolves. Considering you’re human, I don’t think it would be too pleasant for you. I don’t want to do this.”
Stiles laughed. “Like you actually give a shit. Let’s just skip the mr-nice-guy bullshit. The fact you have me chained up here like a prisoner tells me everything I need to know about you.”
Joseph frowned. “Very well, as you wish.” He got up and left, the rest of his pack following him except for the long-haired man. He went in the opposite direction and dragged a cart down to where Stiles was dangling. Knives of various sizes and shapes decorated the counter, among other things.
Fuck.
Derek’s phone rang. It was Scott.
“Where’s Stiles? He’s supposed to be here, working on our project.”
“I don’t know,” Derek replied. He thought about what had just happened earlier with Stiles. The image of him running away was still fresh in his mind.
“Just call him, Scott.”
“I did. I don’t think his phone’s working, it just goes straight to voicemail. It must be dead or something.”
Derek sighed. He kept seeing Stiles run out of his door, over and over again. Running out and climbing into his jeep and... wait a minute. He didn’t remember hearing the jeep engine turn on, so he walked to the window and peered out.
The jeep was still parked behind his Camaro.
“Fuck. His jeep is still here. I’ll track his scent and see if I can find him.” Derek hung up before Scott could say anything and sighed. He put on his leather jacket and went out the front door. He picked up Stiles’ scent and went off after it.
Tracking Stiles’ scent wasn’t hard because it was everywhere. Derek could smell his tears, his anger, his despair, but most of all, his pain. There was so much of it, it overwhelmed Derek. Far too much for a sixteen year old kid. He followed the trail for a while, realizing just how far Stiles had run.
Derek really fucked up. He should have found a better way to handle this situation. He’s been so out of touch with the rest of humanity, he just forgot how to deal with people, especially teenagers. Regret began to fill his heart, but he pushed it aside. Not the time for that.
After a couple of hours, Derek finally came across Stiles’ cell phone. He frowned, knelt over to pick it up and looked it over. It was in several pieces, obviously having been thrown against a tree. “Shit, Stiles. What did I do?” He got up and took a deep inhale through his nose and froze.
Stiles wasn’t alone. Werewolves. Several. Fuck. Derek looked for the spot where Stiles and the werewolves’ scents met and he found a few drops of blood glistening on the ground. He sniffed it, and yes, they were Stiles’ blood.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Scott’s number. It was two in the morning, but Scott answered quickly.
“Did you find him?”
“No. I found his cell phone. I also found several scents that don’t belong to him -- they belong to other werewolves. They have him. Call Danny, get him to track the GPS on my phone, and get everyone else and meet me wherever I am. I’m going to track them and find Stiles.”
“Oh fuck. Okay, I’m calling now.” Scott said and hung up on Derek.
Please be okay, Derek prayed and followed the scent.
The good news was, the long-haired man hadn’t used any of the torture tools from the cart on Stiles yet. The bad news was, his fists weren’t from the cart.
“Urghhhh,” groaned Stiles as the long-haired man’s left fist thumped against his ribs. “Fuck you,” he gasped. “I’m not saying anything.”
The long-haired man frowned and left the room, leaving Stiles alone.
Not sure how much more I can take. Not the first time, but I really wish I was a werewolf right now. Fuck you Derek and Scott and Jackson and Lydia. Mostly you, Derek. Fuck all of your healing abilities.
Stiles didn’t bother trying to wiggle out of his prison; the pain was too much and the fists had sent him swinging plenty of times. The ropes didn’t budge. Also, massive rope burn.
Scott, I’m sorry I didn’t go to your place. Please, find me.
A few minutes later, the long-haired man and Joseph came into the room. Joseph glanced over Stiles’ body, taking note of the bruises that had already formed across his chest.
“And he hasn’t said anything?”
“No, nothing,” the long-haired man answered.
“What questions have you been asking?”
“The usual ones.”
“Hmm,” Joseph pondered. “Stiles, you really should cooperate. You look terrible.”
“And who’s fault is that?” Stiles sneered. Joseph cocked his head and studied Stiles. “You’re not going anywhere any time soon. Cooperating would serve you the best.”
“My pack will be here soon. You all will be dead.”
Joseph laughed. “No, we won’t be. I can smell three, maybe four distinct werewolves on you. You’ve got a very small pack. We have more than three times your numbers. If your pack comes, they’ll be committing suicide.”
Stiles just glared.
“Cut him down,” Joseph ordered. Instead of hanging by a rope, Stiles now found himself handcuffed and bound to a steel chair. A really cold chair.
“Is that more comfortable?”
“No,” Stiles said, his tone submerged in sarcasm. “I definitely liked the hanging by my hands much better.”
Joseph shook his head and smirked. “So, Stiles. Who’s Derek?” No reply. “Derek Hale, maybe? I remember there being a young Derek from the Hales. I thought they all died, though.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Joseph sighed. “Okay, it can’t be helped then. Maybe some bruises on your face will help you change your mind, Stiles.”
The long-haired man stepped in front of Joseph and balled his hands into fists. It took only a single punch for Stiles to black out.
You and I will never happen.
“Take it easy, Bill. He’s not a werewolf, remember?”
Derek crouched behind a tree downwind, glaring at the house where the scent had taken him. There was far too many overlapping scents -- at least ten werewolves. Maybe more. There’s no way Derek, Jackson, Lydia, and Scott could take them all on and win. They needed help.
Derek backed away from the house slowly until he was far enough to make a phone call. He called Scott again.
“Where are you guys?”
“We’re about two miles from your location. We’re almost there.”
“Stay there. I’ll find you.”
“But --”
“No arguments,” Derek snapped and closed the cell phone. He searched for their scent, found it and tracked until he found them.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked.
Derek sighed. “I don’t know. A pack took him to their place. It’s a house a few miles from here. I smelt at least ten werewolves, maybe more. We can’t get him back on our own. We’re going to need help.”
“Fuck,” Jackson growled. “How? The only people who can help us are the Argents, and I’d probably trust the other pack more than I trust the Argents. Other than you, of course, Allison.”
Allison gave him a pained smile. “Yeah, I get it. We don’t have a choice, do we, though?” When nobody replied, she added, “Thought so. I’ll call Dad.” She pulled her phone out and stepped away from the impromptu huddle.
“Shouldn’t we just, I don’t know, knock on the door?” Danny asked.
“No. They can smell us on him. They know he’s a part of a pack. They took him anyway. I found some drops of Stiles’ blood in the woods. I’m very sure Stiles is there against his wishes.”
“What the hell was he doing way out there anyway?” Lydia questioned Derek.
Derek shifted his eyes, unsure how to answer that question. He sighed and began to talk, but was interrupted by Lydia, “What the fuck did you do, Derek?”
“We... had an argument.”
“That’s all you’re going to tell us? An 'argument' does not make someone run off miles into the woods in the middle of the night. What happened?”
“That’s between him and me.”
“Bullshit! Whatever happened affects all of us. Your argument is what got Stiles kidnapped and us involved. We need to know what’s going on,” Lydia demanded.
Derek rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I made a mistake. Stiles... he kissed me, and my reaction was not exactly what he was looking for.”
“Details. Now,” demanded Danny. Derek looked at the newest member of the pack in bewilderment. "I’m not sure how details are necessary right now.”
Danny’s eyes hardened. “Stiles has been talking to me for a while now about his feelings for you. He told me that he expected you to reject him, but Lydia and I told him you wouldn’t. We know you like him too, so what the hell did you do?”
Derek groaned. “Like I said, he kissed me. It caught me off guard, so my wolf took over for a few seconds... so, I kissed him back. Then I stopped it, and I told him that it could never happen again. I might have been a little more harsh than I intended to, but that was because I was angry at myself for letting it happen.”
Lydia rolled her eyes as Allison walked back to the huddle, announcing that her dad was on his way with her mother and a few other hunters. Derek nodded. After nobody said anything for a while, Lydia said, “Derek. Why did you reject him? We all know you guys are into each other, what’s your problem?”
“He’s too young. He needs time to grow, to experience life --”
“That’s such a bullshit excuse,” Danny snarled. Jackson and Scott just kept quiet and gestured for Allison to stay quiet, who looked lost. Lydia gave out a barking laugh. “Oh you fucking idiot. It’s because of Kate, isn’t it?”
“What? No, it’s not--”
“Don’t lie to me. We can hear your heartbeat, remember? You idiot,” Lydia growled. “Are you afraid of hurting Stiles? Is that it?”
Derek clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth.
“So what, you think you’re Kate? You think you’re going to destroy Stiles’ life?”
“No, of course not,” Derek answered. “It’s just--”
“No. There’s no ‘just,’ you’re not a psychopath like Kate was -- sorry, Allison,” Lydia commented and Allison just nodded. “You’re a good guy. You’re not going to burn down Stiles’ house. You’re not going to toy with his feelings. He’s your fucking mate, isn’t he?”
“What? How did you know?”
Jackson laughed. “Seriously, Derek? It’s kind of obvious. You treat him a lot differently than you do the rest of us. He’s always the first one you’re concerned about.”
“Well, yeah, that’s because he’s a human, he can’t heal like us.”
“Neither can Danny nor Allison,” Lydia added. “Stiles’ still your priority. We’ve all known for a while now, except Stiles of course. That clueless idiot thinks you’d prefer rip his throat apart than kiss him, and I guess you proved that.
“His age is not a valid reason for you to push him away. You’re afraid. You’re still stuck on Kate. You haven’t moved on, and you’re projecting your fears onto Stiles. That’s not fucking fair to him.”
Derek stammered, trying to say something, but gave up. This was the first time he ever found himself speechless. Sure, he didn’t talk much, but that was by choice. He wanted to say something now, but no words came to him.
“Stiles deserves better than that,” Scott said. “I know I’ve been neglecting him a bit since I met Allison, and I feel bad. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s been there for me every time I’ve needed him. And he’s been there for you every time you needed him. We would have never been able to kill Peter if he and Jackson didn’t show up and light Peter up. He missed his first game as a first stringer to help you.”
“He needs you now,” Lydia said. “You better do the right thing here now, or I swear to god, I will kill you.”
The look in Lydia’s eyes meant business, Derek realized. Maybe she was right. Maybe... maybe he was being an idiot.