Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

Summary: The Argent family has been kidnapping and illegally selling Omega's for years. When FBI Agent Derek Hale and his team go and raid their home to find and rescue the dozens of Omega's, that's all Derek expects to be doing. What he doesn't expect is to find his own mate chained up with the rest of them. Seeing the Omega severely sick and injured, Derek is determined to nurse him back to health, no matter how long it takes.

Author's Notes: *Nervously peeks head out from behind curtain* Um, hi there! Sooo, I've never actually written a story for Teen Wolf before, but this little scenario all started out as a dream I had one night, and I just felt like the story needed to be told. I really hope it doesn't suck too badly. The Teen Wolf fandom is my absolute favorite, so I really wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. I feel like this is going to be a semi-longish story, but I happen to be a college student, and that means I have lots of papers to write that come before this fun stuff (unfortunately), so if I go a while without posting a new chapter, I swear I didn't abandon this. It just means that I have been busy. And going off of that, I can't really promise that the chapters will be all that long, either, but I will try my hardest! Anyway, thank you for reading this, and I hope you at least somewhat enjoy this fic! *Awkwardly bows before proceeding to run off stage in fear*

XOXOXOXO

Everything was chaos.

About a dozen cop cars and ambulances were lined up on both sides of the street, their bright red and blue lights flashing wildly as they blocked the entrance to the Argent Estate. Dark FBI vehicles were scattered across the lush, green lawn, making it obvious to the neighborhood and it's nosy people that there was some type of highly illegal bust taking place.

The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the darkness around the law enforcement officers in an eerie, calm glow. It's radiance was the exact opposite of the present environment. Derek frowned slightly at the irony, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans before re-gripping the gun in his hands.

"Steady your aim," Lydia commanded all the gunsmen, the lethal tint to her voice showing the utmost signs of a severely strained Chief. "I want their bodies to hit the ground the second they come running out."

A buzz of white noise sounded before the voice of Scott McCall broke through the headpiece settled in Derek's ear. "We managed to break in through the back and scare them towards the front. They're armed with weapons. I repeat: they're armed with weapons."

There was a collective tensing of every body outside, some gripping their guns tighter, others falling to their knees in a poised-to-kill stance. Derek exhaled heavily through his nose, a large sense of calm flowing through his body. He learned to cherish moments like these, for he knew that that calm would be completely blown to smithereens in the next couple of minutes, overtaken by a large spike of adrenaline that would rush through his veins.

"Hale, be careful in there," Lydia warned as he crouched closer to the doors of the large house. "They may have accomplices hiding in there."

Derek chuckled darkly. "I didn't sign up for this job for it's safety benefits, Martin. I can handle anyone who gets in my way."

"I don't need you to be all cutsie, Hale. I just need you to get in there alive and find those omega's. And for the love of christ, try not to frighten them. Lord knows what those Argent bastards did to them."

Before Derek could respond with a snarky remark, the front doors opened with a loud bang, revealing an older man who looked to be in his 60's or 70's, and a young, blonde-haired woman who couldn't have been much older than 25. Gerard and Kate Argent, Derek's mind supplied him. Everyone in the state of California knew their names, for they had been on the run for the last few years. It was rumored that they had been kidnapping and illegally selling omega's for years, but nobody had actually been able to prove it, for no one actually knew of the omegas' locations. Until now.

As the two stumbled through the door, the sound of gunshots resonated through the air. Neither of the Argent's had gotten the chance to fire their own weapons before their bodies were being jolted by a spray of bullets tearing through their flesh. Kate's body fell right away as a bullet tore through her forehead, bright-red blood spilling out to coat her blonde curls. A wet gurgle escaped from her lips as her body stilled. Gerard stayed on his feet for as long as he could, which was a little under 10 seconds. He then fell to his knees as he tried to aim his gun with a shaky hand, pointing it at one of the officers on his right.

Derek reacted quickly, his sharp reflexes urging him to aim perfectly and pull the trigger. The bullet tore through the skin of Gerard's throat, severing his vocal chords and letting him bleed out on the grass as he slumped over, gun falling out of his limp hand.

Derek took that as his cue to get moving. He walked swiftly through the door, gun held steady and ready to fire if he caught sight of any of Gerard's accomplices. He couldn't detect anyone else in the house with his keen Werewolf hearing, other than the faint, muffled voices of McCall and a few others trying to make their way towards him.

As he rounded a corner to his right, he moved quickly down a hallway which led him to a large, spacious living room. His lip curled in disgust as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the expensive looking furniture and decor. Framed photo's lined ever inch of the wall's, telling stories about the generations of succesful Argent's whom had lived there before. There were a few statues made of pure gold lining the walls, making it obvious that the Argent's were not afraid to let their wealth be known. It sickened Derek knowing exactly where their money had been coming from.

He was about to turn around and head back the other way, but a noise made him stop in his tracks. It had been a quiet, almost muffled noise, but it had still been a noise nonetheless. His ears strained to pick up where it had come from, his heart beating wildly with the hope that he would find the omega's and-

There it was again.

Derek dropped his protective stance in exchange for shoving his gun in it's holster. He tilted his head back slightly and sniffed at the air, trying to catch any scent of Omega that he could. He held back a growl of frustration upon smelling nothing but stale perfume and faint cigar smoke. He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes scanned the room, trying to figure out where the noise had come from.

He was close, that much he knew. He could feel it. It made his palms itch and his wolf squirm restlessly underneath his skin. He was supposed to be a Werewolf for christ sake. Scoping out things like this was supposed to be his specialty. Instead of answers, all he got was frustration. The smiling photo's on the wall's all seemed to be laughing at him, taunting him for not living up to Werewolf standards. What good was he if-

Derek's eyes widened, jerking his gaze up from the spot on the floor he had been glaring a hole into. His eyes scanned the photo's on the wall, his suspicion increasing tenfold. He walked towards the pictures until his nose was nothing but a few inches away. He didn't give it another thought before he shoved a handful of the pictures off the walls, not feeling one bit of guilt as he heard some of the glass shatter. He kept shoving and scratching at the photo's until he found what he was looking for.

A hidden door.

Of course. Hiding in plain sight. If Gerard Argent hadn't been such a psychotic fuck, Derek may have given him a few points for creativity.

"Whoa. Nice job, Hale," McCall's voice informs, sounding almost fascinated. A few more of their co-workers shuffle into the room, guns out and ready to shoot. Scott nods his head towards the door and it's flat keyhole. "Is there a key somewhere?"

Derek gives him The Eyebrow, hoping it conveys the question of, Are you a complete and utter moron? Scott just blinks at him, a confused look on his face.

"McCall, I'm not sure if you've noticed or not but we're werewolves. We don't need a fucking key," Derek growls. The blush that forms on Scott's cheeks makes Derek feel triumphant. He shoots a dark look towards the rest of his team. "Put those damn weapons down. They'll be scared enough as it is."

They all quickly obeyed, a few of them fumbling nervously under Derek's sharp gaze.

"We ready?" Derek questioned, voice low and lethal.

"Ready." The reply was weak, but none of them were lying.

Derek grit his teeth and slammed into the door with the side of his body. The structure made a groaning noise beneath his weight, but did not give way. Derek inhaled deeply through his nose as he backed up a step, bracing himself once more as he threw his weight against the door. There was a sharp, cracking noise as the thick, wooden door broke off the hinge.

Derek caught himself before he stumbled forwards, kicking hard at the un-even door with his heel. It clattered to the floor loudly, allowing Derek to look down what appeared to be a narrow, dark hallway. He surged forward, hearing small distressed noises echoing through the hall. As he neared a small, rickety stairwell, a collage of smells assaulted his nose; the spicy scent of fear, the acidic smell of vomit, the sharp, rotting scent of death. The worst part was that those were nowhere near the only smells permeating from the basement. There were so many different types of scent's wafting through the air that Derek felt a little light-headed.

A crinkle formed between his brow as he frowned, tilting his head back a little to sniff the air. Besides the obvious sorrowful scents seeping through his nose, he could detect the slightest trace of something lighter, something sweeter. Something good. It made his arms break out in goosebumps. It was unlike anything he'd ever smelt before. It was better. Much better.

As Derek and his fellow co-workers thumped down the rotting stairwell, Derek forced himself to concentrate on swallowing the excess saliva that had flooded his mouth. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be on a serious mission, he couldn't help but continue to drag in lungful's of the soft, sweet scent.

It drove his wolf mad.

His wolf wanted nothing more than to spring forth and hunt down the scent, curl protectively around it, snap viciously at anyone who tried to touch it. The scent was his. It belonged to him. Nobody else. And if anyone tried to get in the way of him and the delicious scent, Derek would not hesitate to kill-

Derek stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide in shock. He heard the confused sounds his fellow agents made as they were forced to a stop behind him, but their voices sounded far away as a high-pitched ringing filled his ears, making him feel dizzy. His mouth felt suddenly dry as a feeling of fear crept up his spine.

He knew the others could smell his sudden despair. Usually he was able to mask his personal feelings and scent's rather well, but this time he didn't give a damn. His brain was too busy going into shock to even consider hiding his fear from them.

"-erek? Derek!"

Derek growled lowly at the hand gripping his bicep, turning his head to see Scott staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Derek, what's wrong?" Scott whispered, pulling his hand back. He swallowed visibly, flickering his eyes back and forth between Derek and the rest of his squad. His eyes widened after a few moments, a crinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows. "Derek, your eyes are red."

Derek let out another low growl, trying to keep his fangs from expanding as he pulled in another whiff of the sweet scent. It was getting harder to control his own body, for his wolf was trying with all it's might to make him move towards the smell. He was trying as hard as he could to keep back the large howl that threatened to burst out of his lungs.

"Derek, your hands!" Scott cried, catching sight of the blood oozing out from between the Alpha's clenched fists.

"Take over, Scott," Derek bit out through clenched teeth, his fangs winning his battle of will and tearing into his bottom lip. He could feel his eyes flickering back and forth from their natural color to red.

"But, D-derek," Scott stuttered. "I don't... I don't under-" Scott stopped abruptly, his brown eyes filling with unspoken knowledge.

Derek watched as realization flooded Scott's facial features, the look of pure sadness making Derek's wolf whine mournfully.

Scott looked from Derek, towards the hallway ahead of them, then back to Derek.

"Derek, no," Scott whispered, shaking his head in sorrow. "That's fucked. That's so fucked."

"Just take over, McCall," Derek ordered gruffly, thanking every god above that for once he didn't need to spell it out for the younger man.

Scott gave a curt nod before saying, "Go find 'em, Hale."

Almost as if he had been waiting for someones permission, Derek dropped all of his thoughts about Lydia's orders and bolted forward. The only mission his mind and body had at the moment was to find the smell. Find the person whom the smell belonged to.

Find his mate.

At the thought of the word 'mate,' he let his wolf loose, allowing it to let out a loud, viscious snarl which echoed loudly off the dusty walls. His feet pounded beneath him as he barreled down the hallway, body running on the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. Taking a sharp left as the hallway curved, he stopped running with a sudden jolt, his wolf momentarily too stunned to move.

Hanging on the wall to his right were half a dozen tazers, iron chains and handcuffs, a cubby with a couple of syringes sitting on it, and four small vials filled with wolfsbane. But the worst part was the overwhelming stench of rot and death permeating the air, making a small, wounded whine escape through Derek's teeth.

There was a small archway in front of him, a thick, heavy, plastic curtain-like-thing hanging down from the ceiling and separating him from the omega's on the other side. Their sharp cries and loud whimpers could be heard easily, making Derek's stomach tie itself in knots. A small part of him didn't even want to look at what atrocities waited behind the curtain, but his wolf made the decision for him, making him stumble forward and push through the plastic curtain.

An angry growl was ripped from his throat at the sight before him. There had to be at least eighty omegas, if not more, chained up to the walls and hitching posts by both their hands and their feet, the iron holds only allowing them a few inches of free space. As far as Derek could tell, every single one of them were completely naked, no sign of blankets or clothing anywhere. That fact was even worse considering the room was made out of stone walls and concrete floor, which were both bound to get quite cold, especially considering the chill already running through the air.

The floors were a complete mess. Derek could spot old, dark blood stains on the floor, along with more recent piss stains. Fecal matter was everywhere; on the floors, on the walls, dried onto some of the omegas' skin. Chunks of dried vomit were spotted in several locations. The combined, putrid scent made Derek gag.

Upon seeing the wolfed out alpha, the omegas all reacted differently. Some tried to shrink back against the wall as much as possible. A couple of brave ones let out tiny growls, flashing their yellow eyes at him. One female omega close by him let out a small mewl, panting heavily as she turned around and presented to him, wiggling her ass enticingly. She was clearly in the midst of going through heat. And that was how bad the smell was in the room. Even with his severely heightened senses, he couldn't pick out the scent of an omega in heat, even though it was supposed to be the most appealing scent to an alpha.

He heard the outraged cries of his fellow colleagues behind him, letting Derek know they were really close. A wave of fierce protectiveness rolled through his body at the thought of the other men getting closer. Though the majority of them were beta's, his wolf didn't care. It was just one more person who could potentially harm his mate.

Derek tipped his head back, sniffing the air to try and detect where his mate was. He caught the slightest whiff of something soft and sweet, allowing his nose and feet to guide him. Ignoring the high, needy whines of the omega's around him, he moved briskly down the rows, stepping over legs and outstretched arms. Towards the back of the room, there looked to be two hallways, one going left and the other going right, giving the entire room the shape of a T. Derek's senses led him to turn left, where he stopped and stared in shock.

There were only two omegas chained to the back wall, excluding them from the presence of the omegas in the main room. One of them had blonde hair and glowing blue eyes, fangs and claws extended as he growled surprisingly deeply at Derek. The one next to him was not a werewolf at all, but instead a human omega, which was considered to be a rare thing. He was slumped over and looked to be severely malnourished by the way his bones jutted out underneath his skin. Derek could count the ribs under the pale, creamy flesh, causing his wolf to let out a sharp, mournful whine.

That was him.

That was Derek's mate. The little human.

Derek reined in his wolf, ridding himself of his glowing eyes and fangs before dropping to his knees with a thud. He crawled quickly towards his unconscious mate, heart beating erratically in his chest. He was less than a few feet away from touching the small body for the first time, when the other omega growled loudly at him once more.

A responding growl of his own started rumbling in his chest, but was cut off when the blue-eyed omega tried lunging at him, only to be stopped by the chains holding him back.

"Haven't you guys done enough to him?" the omega spat out through clenched teeth. "If you wanna fuck with somebody, why don't you pick me, huh?"

Derek just looked at him for a few moments, understanding that he was not a threat. He was just trying to protect Derek's mate, making Derek feel slightly grateful.

"I don't want to hurt him," Derek said in a gruff voice, eyes sweeping up and down his mate's small form. He felt his blood boil at the sight of his mate's right leg. There was no doubt that it was broken from the way it stuck out at the wrong angle. "God, that's the last thing I would ever do."

"Who are you?" the blonde demanded, his facial expression sour. "You don't look like the others."

"That's because I'm not," Derek growled. "I'm FBI agent Derek Hale. My squad and I just raided this house. The people who were holding you captive are dead, and there's dozens of people waiting outside to come in and help you all." Derek cast his look back towards his mate, hard eyes softening. "And I'm here to help him."

"You're his alpha, aren't you?"

Derek swallowed thickly and nodded. "God, he looks so much worse than the others." Then, with trembling fingers, he proceeded to reach towards the frail wrist of his mate, lightly encircling it in his hand. God, his skin was so cold. It was a wonder why the poor thing wasn't shivering.

Derek released the boys wrist and quickly shrugged the thick, black jacket off of his own shoulders. He wasted no time in covering his mate's body with it, the size of it settling over the frail torso and his exposed private areas, stopping at mid-thigh. He was so small compared to Derek.

With his wolf satisfied that the boy was properly covered, Derek once more grasped a bony wrist, thumb sliding beneath the metal cuff on his wrist with a little difficulty. With a small growl, he brought his other hand up, grabbed the cuff, then easily snapped it in two, the metal clanging loudly to the floor. The skin on his mate's wrist where the metal had dug into was badly bruised, a dark blackish-blue color. Most likely from pulling at the restraints so frequently. He quickly gave the same treatment to the other wrist, as well as his mate's ankles.

Derek looked towards the blonde omega, who was watching him with a cautious gaze.

He's making sure you're not going to hurt your mate, his mind supplied. He wasn't sure whether to respect the omega, or whether to growl at him for not trusting his actions around his own mate.

"Do you know his name?" Derek asked, vaguely aware of the echoed shouts of other agents and policeman bouncing off the musky walls. "Maybe he'll wake if I talk to him."

The omega slowly shook his head no, a sad look gathering in his eyes.

"He told me to call him Stiles, but I'm willing to bet that's a nickname." The omega paused for a second, swallowing thickly. "And I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I don't think he's gonna wake up. Hasn't for almost a week."

Derek was about to demand what he meant, but the smallest whiff of a scent made his stomach drop.

The subtle smell was very familiar, for he had caught the same fetid scent on his human aunt who had died of cancer a few years ago.

No.

Derek shook his head in horror. "No," he whispered. "I... I just found him. I've waited twenty-five years for this moment, waited so long to fucking find him, and now he's..." Derek swallowed thickly, a long, mournful whine escaping his throat.

"Dying," the omega supplied in a voice devoid of all emotion. "He's dying."

"I know," Derek hissed, eyes flaring red. "I can fucking smell it on him."

"That's why they broke his leg, you know," the omega went on. "To try and trigger his healing process. He may be a human, but he's still got healing abilities. Not as great or as fast as ours, but they're still there. The last thing they would want to do is sell a dying omega."

A feral growl ripped from Derek's throat, causing the omega to roll his eyes. Derek shuffled forward, carefully slipping one arm behind his mate's back and the other underneath his knees, gently scooping the omega up into his arms. The younger boy's head lolled to the side and rested in the crook of Derek's neck, making the alpha extremely worried about the barely-there puffs of breath ghosting across his skin.

"I've gotta get him to the hospital," Derek speculated, just about to push himself into a standing position. "He needs help immediately."

"You've gotta be shitting me," the omega stated, causing Derek to give him a dirty look. The blonde omega crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back at the alpha. "What, you think they can fucking help him? Help a human boy who's three-quarters of the way dead from cancer?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" hissed Derek, eyes flaring as he hugged the cold body to his chest. "Just let him fucking die right here in my arms? I'm not giving up on him, damn it. He's still alive right now, and as long as he's breathing, there's a chance he'll survive."

"Christ, I'm not saying you should let him die. Don't get your tail in a fucking twist," the blonde spat out, blue eyes shooting Derek an 'are-you-really-this-stupid?' look. "Haven't you ever heard about the claiming bite? About how it can sometimes heal even the sickest of people? Including said people with cancer? Christ, are you alphas this clueless all the time?"

Derek furrowed his brow, faintly re-calling someone telling him that once. But that was just it. He had heard about it once. Once his entire life. That meant it was more than likely a once in a lifetime deal.

"You're more likely to win the lottery than have the claiming bite cure you," Derek said bitterly. "Not to mention, both mates need to be fully comprehensive. If you haven't noticed, he's not exactly awake."

"I understand that," the omega growled out before a suddenly serious look took over his facial features. The next words he spoke were in a much lower voice, almost as if he were trying to keep anyone else from overhearing. "Just hear me out for a second. For your normal, everyday claiming bite, it's only the alpha who bites the omega, right? And that cures somebody who's sick once in a blue moon. But the thing is, people don't understand that the real power is in the omega's bite. You bite them, then they bite you, and your combined bond will work. Just trust me."

Derek just stared at the omega for a few seconds, letting the information process.

"And, who are you exactly?" he questioned after his moment of silence.

"Jackson. Jackson Whittemore," the omega-Jackson-replied. "I've been doing these kind of, well, studies, I guess you could call them. Most alpha's won't let their omega bite them back. Apparently it's a sign of weakness or some bullshit on the alpha's part. But what they don't know it that new tests are being released to the press, saying that an exchange of a bite between Alpha and Omega can not only cure an omega, but also an Alpha, if need be. Now, you tell me if you still want to take him to a hospital that's just going to kill him, or if you want to really save him."

"Look, Jackson," Derek sighed. "I believe what you're saying, all right? I really do. I would let him bite me back in a heartbeat if it meant seeing him alive. But like I said before, we both need to be comprehensive. If I take him to the hospital first, they can probably get him to at least wake up. Then when he's responsive I can take him-"

Jackson's scoff cut him off. "What, you actually think they're going to let you just take him and leave when he wakes up? No. They're gonna want to do tests and inject him with so many different fluids and chemicals that he's not going to even smell like yours anymore. They'll do it even though they'll already know what's wrong with him. He'll die there in a cold bed all alone. Is that really what you fucking want? Because I know for damn sure you won't be allowed in the room with him. He doesn't have the bite on his neck, so they'll tell you to fuck off, say you don't have the right to be there with him."

Derek whined high in his throat, the back of his eyelids starting to sting with the familiar feeling of tears about to fall. His nose gently nuzzled the brown hair belonging to his omega, inhaling his soft, precious scent.

"Ok," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "I won't take him to a hospital. But... but how am I going to wake him? If he hasn't woken in a week, then what can I do differently?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the right, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. "You tell me. You're an FBI agent, for christ sake. You always have people on speed-dial. Are you really telling me that there's nobody you can call to help you figure it out?"

Derek's mind raced, filtering through all of the people on his contact list. He made sure his hold on his omega was strong before he reached into his pocket with one hand, grasping the hard, smooth material that was his phone and pulling it out. He quickly flipped it open, looking under his contacts tab. He scrolled furiously through the list, not seeing anybody who could be of help. That was, until he came to a certain name.

His eyes flickered to Jackson's questioning ones, the omega holding his gaze even as a fellow FBI member bustled over and tried to get Jackson's hands and feet free.

"Yeah," Derek spoke up, voice filled with hope. "Yeah, I think I know someone who can help." With that, the thumb hovering over the 'call' button pressed down firmly. He held it up to his ear, heart beating rapidly in his chest as it rang and rang.

After what felt like an hour, a voice crackled to life on the other end, momentarily stunning Derek with relief. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor before declaring in an urgent voice, "Hey, Deaton. It's Derek Hale. I was hoping you could do me a favor."