a/n: Episode Tag: The Tell

Warranted

Stiles took Lydia's phone, he panicked and it was the only thing that he could think to do. Scott wasn't answering his phone and Stiles didn't think that this could wait. No one else could know about this, so he did the only thing that he could think of. And if he couldn't talk about this with Scott because he so damn busy with Allison, his only other choice was Derek.

Stiles hated this, but it was a last resort—a very last resort. He didn't want to go and see Derek, the guy was intimidating and he had anger problems Stiles was sure of it. He always seemed too full of testosterone, and always about to bite his head off—very much like a crazed animal. His Dad was at the Parent-Teacher meeting, so Stiles thought that this was as good a time than any to take a lone trip out into the woods where a Werewolf lived.

The whole way there, Stiles gripped his Jeep's steering wheel in his nervousness. He never made it up the dirt drive and instead pulled off to the side when he saw two SUVs blocking the way. He nervousness and uneasiness went up a few notches as he realized that Derek didn't have any friends with SUVs, and that the only people that had SUVs around here were Allison's Dad and her Aunt.

Stiles knew that he couldn't just leave, because what if Derek was in danger? He himself really couldn't have cared at all, but Scott needed Derek. So he would do what any best friend would do, or what a teenager who had no one else as a friend would do. He took the tazer that was in his glove compartment out and griped it tightly in his hand as he exited his Jeep. His Dad wouldn't let him have a gun, so it was either a tazer or pepper spray—Stiles went with the most obvious choice, pepper spray was for girls anyway.

He carefully shut his door, making sure that it didn't slam shut to let the intruders know of his presence. Before he carefully tried to ninja himself up the driveway, making himself feel like a fool in the process. As he got closer to the house, he heard yelling, distinct growling, crashes and then rapid gun fire before everything went eerily quite. Stiles crept up the burnt stairs, the tazer gripped tightly in his hand, his finger hovering over the release. The door was ajar and as Stiles stepped inside he found to bodies laying on the floor. He wasn't sure if they were dead or alive and decided that he'd rather not know, and didn't want to risk kicking them incase they were alive and did awaken.

Murmured voices reached Stiles' ears from the next room before a grunt filled with pain took over it's place. Stiles could recognize it from the time he was stuck in his Jeep with Derek while the Werewolf had been shot with that magic bullet, consideration of Allison's Aunt Kate.

Stiles peered around the corner, his breath held. And speaking of the Devil, standing in front of him, with her back turned away stood Kate. In her hand was a short pole about two feet, it was made of black metal and was charged with electricity — much like Stiles' tazer, only bigger and more fierce. Lying on the floor a few feet from her boots, was Derek, his bare back turned to her, unconscious. She lifted the stick, intending to strike again when Stiles made his move.

He didn't even realize that he had moved until he had come around the corner, aimed the tazer and pressed the release. Kate tensed as the electrodes hooked into the fabric of her clothing, and the maximum level of bolts traveled through her body, her nerves. Finally, Stiles let go of the release and her body collapsed to the floor. Stiles over looked her body and rushed to Derek.

Stiles had his arms out stretched, his finger inches from Derek's pale skin. But they stayed there; even though at the moment he may have been unconscious, Stiles knew that Derek could awake at any moment and bite his head off. That or Derek could think that he was Kate and eat him or even change him into a Werewolf.

When Derek left out a very soft almost inaudible groan, Stiles shifted back. And before he could even blink or comprehend, Derek was up and on him. Stiles didn't struggle, but instead froze from fear. Derek looked down at him with half crazed eyes, his teeth sharp from their transformation. His breath was heavy and he seemed to pant as he gripped Stiles shoulders painfully.

"What do you think you're doing?" Derek demanded, growled.

"I think it was called saving your life!" Stiles seethed back, suddenly growing a pair.

"Is that so?" Derek snorted in disgust.

"Yeah, it is." Stiles sneered.

"Right," he scoffed. "I had everything under control."

This time Stiles was the one to snort. "Say's the guy who was unconscious on the floor."

Derek scoffed gently, his teeth turning back to normal. "You think that I would make myself that vulnerable, to let the bitch and her goons get me?"

Stiles felt something well up inside of him, something that he had never really felt before. Such deep frustration that turned into hot anger — everybody thought that he was always in the way that he was of no use. But he was useful; for some stupid, idiotic reason, he had saved this ungrateful asshole's life, and he hadn't even gotten a thank you in return. All he wanted was to be acknowledged, and not even his Dad could do that properly. Stiles shoved Derek off of him with such a force that he ended up on his back. Both were surprised, but at the moment Stiles didn't let it register.

Stiles stood over him, his face and caramel colored eyes dark. "Next time she comes around, don't expect any help." he spat before storming out of the burnt down house, careful to avoid the three bodies on the ground.

Derek watched his retreating back with a raised brow; teenagers. He looked around his home; three bodies to dispose of. What a fun night this was going to be.