Authors Note: I was sort of disappointed with the season finale. Like, overall it was still fantastic. But the whole kidnapping Stiles, they just kind of threw that in the plot line and didn't really make anything of it except for the talk with Lydia! Oh well…
Shorter Chapters since school has started
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The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Stiles was awoken harshly by the monotone and cruel beeping of his alarm. With a sluggish motion he slammed his fist over the snooze button and buried his face back into his pillows.
With a sluggish mind he tried to think of why exactly he was waking up at dawns early light on Saturday. There wasn't school, there wasn't practice, and nothing seemed so important that it could disrupt the slumbering boy.
A groan parted Stiles lips as he ripped the sheets off of his body, knowing that if he didn't move he would stay rooted in that bed for the next day. Drearily, he walked towards the mirror, rubbing his fists against the sleep that had built up in his eyes.
He looked at the mirror, his entire figured exposed to the reflection. There was one good thing about buzzed hair, no matter how awkwardly you slept on it, it never looked messy or greasy. Stiles gave himself a quick look, faintly remembering having a grey shirt on last night, but for some reason it was white right now. He shook his head, nothing but a trick of the light or faulty memory. He left the shirt on, figuring the dirt stains weren't quite so demanding for a wash right that moment. He couldn't smell anything besides the usual dog scent, and that was all it took to be considered hygienic on a weekend morning.
Last night. Stiles heart froze at the thought. The blurry image of the Kanima drifted into his mind, alongside Scott and Derek chasing after it with their fangs and chests exposed. Stiles gently nodded to himself, stumbling his feet across the floor to where his phone was collapsed over a pile of rotting clothes.
Yes, they were chasing after the Kanima. And Stiles had been paralyzed. With a groggy sweep, he raised his hand to his chin and noticed the slight amount of stubble that had begun to perk up across his face. A satisfied face at puberty showed. Stiles reached down and turned on his phone, which emitted a harsh screeching wake up tone and a bright light that caused Stiles to flinch away from the light.
He had been paralyzed and was waiting. Just waiting. And then, then, something. Stiles rotated his neck around his shoulders, hearing sickening pops as a flux of relief flowed through him.
Quickly he scrolled through his messages to the new ones, finding a singular text from Scott, simply asking if he got home okay.
Stiles looked around his room, slightly surprised at the question. Of course he got home okay. He was at home, perfectly okay. Ah-yes, that's what the something was. He went home.
He couldn't remember, even foggily, the feeling of the Kanima poisoning fading or him walking home. But with a somewhat stifled yawn, Stiles pushed the thought off as a one of those late night reflexes. One of those moments somewhat like at a sleepover where everything is just hilarious at a sleepover but you can't remember a single thing the next morning. Except this wasn't hilarious, just a midnight walk.
Stiles figured not to dwell on it too much.
Another sharp jolting buzzer emitted from his alarm and Stiles let out a groan, reaching the plug and ripping it from the wall. He was about to text Scott to tell him that he was fine, and then he remembered why he woke up so early. He had promised Derek that he would 'help' the new werewolves and Scott. By help, Derek most likely meant run, run, run and hide, hide, hide. Stiles wasn't too excited by the prospect of being the human meat doll, but in the end he had caved because he knew that Scott didn't enjoy being alone with Derek and his harsh eyes.
Stiles reached around his mouth with his tongue, deciding that his teeth were clean enough without a brushing, and swooped out the door. He left a scribbled note letting his father know that he was hanging out with Scott before he bolted into his jeep and slammed hard on the gas to get to Derek's house.
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It had been a relatively normal practice session. There were a few rousing games of 'see how many bruises Stiles can get' and 'Hide and Go make the human feel incredibly unsafe and awkward' and even, Stiles favorite because it involved as little bodily harm to him as possible, 'Tag'.
Stiles was busy cradling his arm on a bent out rock shape. It began to ache after Erika punched him, hard, completely oblivious to her newfound werewolf strength. He watched as the younger wolves were leaping all over the place, trying to find a sinkhole or open space in Derek. But the elder wolf masterfully avoided every attack, dodging Isaacs blow from above and Erika sliding kick to the stomach. Derek twirled around, poising right behind Erika and gripped her arm hard.
Suddenly there was a loud agonizing snap and Stiles flinched, immediately looking away. He could hear the bone breaking. Gingerly he looked back over and Erika curled over on the ground, her wrist completely twisted around. She snapped it back into place with another loud cracking noise. Stiles just shook his head, an injury like that would take him months to heal and here they all were doing it in seconds.
"That's enough." Derek proclaimed and signaled his wolves in. Erika, with a strange look of hatred and disgust in her eyes, inched closer to Derek as the other wolves surrounded him. The group journeyed inside and Stile sneaked a look at his cracked watch. Lunchtime and his stomach growled happily at the thought.
Stiles hopped off his rock and followed the beasts inside, casually wondering when the last time he ate was. It must have been nearly two days. He could almost feel his ribs sticking out of his shirt and from that temptation he reached up his shirt, checking to see if he could actually feel the ribs through his pale flesh. As his fingers traveled up they were met with a strange slippery surface. Confused he trailed his fingers up it, and his skin became normal again. And then smooth again. And then normal again. A look of confusion was on his face as he began to feel a pattern confused in his flesh.
He was ready to rip off his shirt, see what was on his chest. Until he walked into the kitchen and the scent of bacon lifted through the air. He stomach nearly collapsed on itself with joy, a large cramp nearly causing Stiles to double over at the hunger and scent.
The thought of his chest was shooed out of his mind as he made his way into the kitchen, snagging a few pieces of bacon and squatting down next to Scott on a beat up stool.
Derek was busy explaining something, about the Kanima or the Argents. Stiles was exhausted and the words barely reached his ears. All he could hear was the munching his mouth made on the crunchy bacon.
Suddenly a word caught his attention and he swiveled his head up, little bacon chunks dangling out of his lips. Peter.
Derek had let out an unusually large sigh and explained how Lydia and him were at the house, and Peter came back. Stiles eyes were wide.
Peter. Came. Back. The words were repeated under Scott's breath, letting them fully sink in.
He thought he should be terrified. Oh, Peter. Peter was back. The number one big bad wolf that started everything came back from the grave. Stiles knew he should feel surprised, knew he should at least feel scared but there was a warm radiating feeling that swept across his chest at the name.
The look on Scotts face was pure terror, his hands clenched tightly at the edge of the table and his eyes fallen down to the ground. Isaac, Erika, and Boyd could sense the terror from the other wolves, and even then they showed a little fear. Even brave Erika, with all of her false newfound confidence flinched when Derek told the new wolves about how Peter murdered his family.
And still, Stiles felt no fear. He wasn't sure why, he couldn't quite place the strange feeling of calmness that had overwhelmed him. Part of him screamed to be glad of Peters return, but Stiles shook his head of the thought. It was probably just because Derek was doing a rubbish job of being an Alpha.
At the thought of the new alpha Stiles looked up at him, seeing the deep rivets in his eyes from lack of sleep. Stiles knew he had been circling the warehouse at nights, keeping watch for the argents and then watching over his new additions in the day. Stiles knew how exhausted Derek was and how hard he was trying to prove himself. The role of an alpha was never his; it was his sisters, then his brothers, then his uncles. He was the last in the line of succession and suddenly he found all the power swept up onto him. Stiles knew Derek was breaking and he knew that Peters return would only set the wolf over the edge.
Still calm- Still no petrified heartbeat that burst out of Stiles chest. It's just my medication keeping me so calm. He thought, hoping none of the other wolves would notice his lack of fear.
"That's why it smells like him." Scott murmured out, his nostrils expanded slowly, picking up every scent of rotting and burnt flesh.
"He came in here and tried to," Derek spoke with a sour tone on the next word, "Talk to me."
The new wolves tried to pick up on a scent, and eventually with their chins held high in the air, they did. It was like meat that was far overdone, a pick of wood left to burn in the sunlight, a decaying scent that hung in the corners of the air.
They tried to memorize the scent, but it didn't taste too far away. It smelt fresh on their tongues and senses.
Fresh, it wasn't the old scent that lingered lightly on footsteps and dander, no- this was real.
Derek noticed it too and instantly his claws sprung out, trying to gather the where the scent was coming from. It was so fresh, so strong. Peter was still here, or at least a piece of him was.
Stiles flinched back at the claws- no matter how many times Stiles saw the little nails they were terrifying in their strength to rip through flesh and bone. His chest felt a slight, uncomfortable spasm at the thought.
Derek paced around the room, head held high in the room, his nose wildly searching for the scent. He followed the scent around the kitchen, around the island, and suddenly his head jerked to the side, picking up a whiff of the fresh scent.
He eyed the source, his eyes were shrunk down in confusion as he stared at the pale figure crouched over a black bar stool with bacon grease lining the edge of his lips.
"Why…" Derek muttered out his thoughts, "Do you smell like Peter?"
Stiles spun around on his barstool, barely holding on as it tipped over onto 2 legs. "Me?" He asked in equal confusion. With a loud gulping noise he swallowed the last of his bacon and wiped the grease from his lips with the cusp of his old sleeve.
With a stiff nod Derek walked closer to the human, every step causing Stiles to slink closer against the edge of the cabinets.
"Same cologne?" Stiles offered out with a weak smile. The tension in the room was tight as Derek refused to take his eyes off of Stiles, glancing over every inch of the pale boy.
"No." Derek said, bluntly shutting down Stiles attempt to lighten the mood. He was barely an inch from the boy as Stiles was squeezed hard against the wooden cabinets, a knob digging harshly into his back. Derek's eyes met Stiles concerned ones. "You smell exactly like Peter."
Stiles eyes flashed over to Scott, begging for help or something to tell Derek to ease off. But Scott's eyes were riddled with the same intense confusion as Derek. He could smell it too. His face was squeezed up around his nose as the scent burned into his mind. He couldn't forget that horrible smell that reeked off the alpha. And it was covering his best friend. It wasn't just a light layer; the scent seemed to be emerging from Stiles, mixed into his own scent.
A thousand snarky responses were rambling in Stiles head. But nothing came out but a weak mumble of confusion as his tongue felt swollen around his lips.
Derek's eyes sunk down into Stiles chest and a grimace arose on his face. "Take off your shirt."
Stiles face lit up on a slight chuckle. "What?"
Derek's face decreased into a glare, stabbing knives into Stiles light hearted nature. His claws reached out and plucked on the fabric of his shirt, pulling it out an inch and then releasing it. "Take it off."
Oh geez. Another person wants to see my abs. This is getting popular. I should really start charging for this.
Stiles wrapped his fingers around the cusp of his hem and began to slip the white shirt off over his frame. A light blush came over his face as he saw Erika eying him, with both of her hands propped against her hips.
Another person? Stiles mentally questioned. This seems familiar… I just can't place it. He thought as he felt the cusp of the shirt raised above his stomach.
He pulled the shirt over his head and placed it on the counter, awkwardly turning around as he tried not to touch the wolf that was lingering over him.
Must have been a dream I guess. Stiles tried to convince himself, letting a light though of Lydia drift into his mind, but there was a nagging sensation at the thought that he couldn't quite shake.
Stiles was about to say something, nearly calling Derek gay or a sarcastic comment on his body building chest, but was stopped by a loud gasping noise.
He looked over at Erika, whose hands had moved from her fist and were clasped over her mouth. Isaac was leaned forward over the counter, trying to get a better view, and Boyd's mouth was hung open slightly.
Derek, even Derek the alpha killer, even Derek the stupidly brave and determined, even Derek the glowing red eyed wolf, couldn't help but stutter back a step.
"Stiles…" Scott mumbled out. Stiles shot a look over to his best friend, whose hand was reaching towards his chest.
"What?" Stiles asked innocently and noticed all of their eyes staring down at his chest. This must be how girls feel.
He looked down and his face curled up. "WHAT THE HELL?" He shouted, stumbling back on top of the cabinets. His fingers raced up to his chest, terrified to touch.
White lines were scribbled over top of his flesh, and his fingers trembled as they traced over the smooth lines that reached across his whole chest.
They didn't hurt but there was no blood, no signs of injury, they looked like they had always been there- like they belonged there. But everyone knew that they didn't, standing out from the pale skin with a sickening white.
Scars- Racing across his skin in a glowing pattern.
Stiles eyes shot up at Derek. "What is this? When did this get here?" He gestured wildly at the chest markings that curled over his nipple and pectorals.
Derek just shook his head slowly side to side. He took another step back. His eyes lacked any anger, just pure confusion melded into his icy blue.
Stiles felt his chest expanding rapidly.
The air wouldn't go in. It just wouldn't go in. It wouldn't go in his throat, in his mouth; he couldn't quite suck it in all the way.
His breathing became harsh as he muttered out a small plea to Scott, mumbling his name over chapped lips. But his best friend just stared, transfixed by the scars.
His vision began to get spotty. Little black dots flecked at the edge of his vision.
Where did they come from? They seemed to burn on his chest like a spotlight, though they caused no actual physical pain.
No air.
No breaths.
"Calm down." Erika was the first to notice the signs of the panic attack that started to overwhelm Stiles.
"Don't tell me to calm down." Stiles gasped out. It came out weak. "What the hell is this?"
Silence filled the kitchen and soon the only thing that could be heard was Stiles clinging for air. His fingers dug into the markings, and Stiles began to wish he hadn't chewed his nails off. He just wanted to rip the markings off.
"Words." Derek finally said. "They're words." His eyes were squinted down, looking at the lines and patterns.
Oh god, somebody's doing their English homework on my chest? Practicing their human cursive?
"What does it say…?" Scott asked quietly.
Stiles felt his lungs begin to scream out for air. His mind screamed to stop, for everything to just stop. His body trembled and his knees wobbled against each other in a shaking motion. His fingers vibrating against the edge of his jeans. The dark hue began to swell over his vision.
"Mine." A voice answered, loudly, brimming with confidence.
It was a new voice and all heads turned around to see the source.
Peter. Stiles thought with certainty as the pressure in his chest forced the rest of his air out.
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Not much here. No idea when next chapter will be out. School starts and I work like every day so we will see. Thanks for all the reviews! I love reading them!
More reviews, the faster the updates! Just the way I work. Thanks for reading!