I. Don't. Want.

Chapter 3: First Chance at Second Life

When Stiles woke up he was chained to the wall and floor.

There was a panicked minute when he remembered nothing of the previous night and thought he was at this moment tied up in some sort of seedy sex den, waiting to be shipped abroad and sold off. He was in a room with one door to his left, wood floors and faded blue walls. There was a bed that looked new in front of him. The sheets were made up but mussed.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes the pervading smell of mold and smoke hit him. His neck chaffed where a thick leather collar bound it. Then he heard a toilet flush a little ways away, followed by footsteps drawing near. Abruptly he recalled where he was.

Derek Hale stepped through the door and looked directly at him, unsurprised to find him awake. He silently nodded at Stiles.

"Is nodding werewolf language or do you really just lack the social grace to say Good Morning?"

Frowning, Derek crouched in front of Stiles and held the key up. He gave it a short wave back and forth in front of Stiles' face. "Do you want out or not?"

"Okay, fine, fine! Sourwolf," Stiles only muttered the last part, even though he knew Derek could still hear him. Derek's eyebrow raised, pointedly ignoring the comment as he found the locks on both shackles. Finished with his hands, Derek unlocked his feet and then reached for the collar.

"Wait, wait!"

"What?"

"Be honest with me; do I look good in a collar?"

"And then he just left! He was gone for half an hour!" Stiles gesticulated wildly and Scott laughed. "When he came back he beaned me in the face with the key and told me to get out."

"And that's why you were late for morning practice today?" Scott asked incredulously.

"The worst part is he never gave me an answer!" Stiles complained, definitely louder than was necessary in the middle of the cafeteria. In fact, the whole conversation had been a bit too loud. Classic Stiles. Or maybe that was just his new ears in action.

Scott laughed. He'd taken the whole, 'Stiles is Now a Werewolf' thing incredibly well. It turned out to be much easier to tell Scott than he'd expected. Stiles assumed that was because he hadn't actually had to tell Scott, per say.

Instead, while Stiles had been trying to gather his wits after pulling up in the school parking lot – trying to come up with the best way to spill the beans – Scott's senses had taken care of it.

"Stiles?"

"Scott?"

"Stiles, you smell like a werewolf."

"So do you Scott."

And so it was that Scott knew Stiles was a werewolf. There were questions after that, explanations that had to be cut short to fit into their lunch period (and especially to fit around the PB&J Stiles was devouring) and a whole lot of Scott looking much happier than Stiles anticipated.

There was of course the requisite empathy, - many, many sympathetic pats on the back - but overall Stiles figured Scott was sort of glad to have Stiles fully in his world to suffer alongside him. He was sure Scott was just glad to still have a friend in this mess they called their lives. It could have easily gone the other way for him.

At their lockers after lunch Scott finally asked the other question Stiles had been dreading. They were past "Stiles is a Werewolf," and now there was this.

"Why didn't you come to me for help, Stiles?" Scott asked, bringing out the puppy dog eyes in full force.

"Well, Scott-"

At that moment Jackson came up behind Stiles and slammed his locker door shut with a metallic bang that reverberated through Stiles' sensitive ears. Several things happened after that bang. Scott and Allison jumped apart, Jackson yelled "Scott!" and Stiles' hands flew up to cover his ears.

"Oh my God!" Stiles cried, eyes shut, ears ringing painfully. His eyes felt damp when he stood back up and faced Jackson. "Dude! Right in my ear!"

Jackson took a quick step back, tripping over his own feet.

"Stiles!" Scott hissed, grabbing his friend's hoodie and throwing it over his head. When Stiles turned around his eyes shone mustard yellow under a thick brow. His close cut hair had grown down into a tiny widow's peak on his forehead and the fuzzy sideburns on his cheeks looked odd in comparison to the hair on his head. Scott seized Stiles' hands and shoved them into the front pocket of his jacket, yellow-brown claws and all. "Stiles, come on dude, not here!"

Scott hooked his arm around Stiles' shoulders and started to push and pull him down the hall towards the gym. Stiles kept his head down and tried not to make eye contact with anyone, thoroughly freaked.

There was no one in the boys locker room when Scott opened the door and stuck his head inside to check. Stiles scrambled inside after him and Scott pushed him down onto a bench around the corner from the door.

"What are you doing man? Right in the hallway?" Scott put a shaky hand through his hair, looking Stiles' wolf face over. The ridges on the other boy's nose were softer and his nose still held it's upturned point.

"It's not like I can help it Scott! I've only had three days to get used to all this!" Stiles snarled back, more bite to his words than he'd meant.

"If you'd come to me sooner we could have worked on finding your anchor so stuff like this doesn't happen!" Scott barked, an accusing finger pointing in Stiles' chest. The door opened slowly and both boys quieted abruptly, looking towards the door.

"Well look at that," Jackson rounded the corner, a hand holding the single backpack strap over his shoulder. Stiles opened his eyes to frown at Jackson. "What was Derek thinking, turning a scrawny wimp like you?"

"This isn't the time, Jackson," Scott said forcefully, squaring his shoulders and facing the larger teen.

"Hey, I'm just saying. Maybe we should have kept the other alpha around, if Derek is gonna make decisions just as bad as him, what's the difference? I wonder what you did to convince him to bite you, eh, Balinski?"

Jackson didn't even have a chance to laugh at his own joke before Stiles threw him into a locker. Scott jumped forward and had his arms under his friend's armpits in an instant, holding him back as the other wolf clawed at the air.

"Jackson get out of here!" Scott yelled, voice gravelly. Stiles struggled forward, pushing off with his feet in an attempt to get at Jackson while he pulled himself off the floor. "Hurry!"

When Jackson was out of sight around the lockers Stiles' attention switched to Scott. He switched from pulling forward to pushing back, getting Scott off balance and tripping him over the bench behind them. Scott fell between the bench and the lockers with a crash and Stiles made for the door.

The locker room door clicked shut just as Stiles reached it. He clawed at the handle ineffectually; he could smell that asshole Jackson right on the other side, holding the door shut. Stiles angry roar was cut short by Scott ramming into him from the side, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Stiles stood back up slowly and stared at the other wolfed out teen. Scott's mouth was wide, baring his sharp canines. Stiles did the same and both growled, crouching, preparing to attack.

It was Stiles that moved first, lunging forward to slice at Scott's belly. Scott jumped out of reach then dove back in to grab Stiles by the collar of his jacket and throw him. Stiles sailed down one row of lockers into the wall there. Plaster dust settled onto him as he slid to the ground. He crawled onto his hands and knees but Scott kicked him back down.

Grabbing Scott's leg, Stiles pulled him to the ground beside him and rolled on top of him and stabbed down with his claws. His sharp claws pierced Scott's chest and Scott cried out, then reached up and gripped Stiles' head in both hands, curling up to smash his head into Stiles' until the other wolf fell off of him.

They both rose, panting, then lunged at each other again. In the scuffle neither one heard the locker room door open and close, or the approaching footsteps. Derek grabbed the backs of both their necks and pulled them apart, holding them so the tips of their shoes just brushed the ground, then tossed them into the showers.

Stiles and Scott slid on the tiled floors until they bumped into the back wall of the showers. Both betas snarled and growled at the alpha and Derek roared back, louder than the two combined. Scott was quiet but angry; he got to his feet, using the wall to help himself up.

The other beta sat up against the wall then stopped moving, out of breath. Scott could see blood in his hair and all the anger drained out of him, but the wound it was coming from was already healing. Confused, he watched Stiles start to shake and whine as Derek approached.

"What's wrong with him?" Scott asked, wide-eyed, looking back and forth between him and Derek.

"He's submitted," Derek said, crouching over Stiles much the same way he'd done the night before, during the full moon. Scott made a confused sound as Stiles closed his eyes and stretched his neck out, leaning his head back. Derek gave him an incredulous look before answering. "He's a submissive, Scott. Do you know anything about wolves?"

Then Derek leaned down, bracing his arms on the wall, and put his teeth over Stiles' neck. Stiles whimpered but didn't move. Derek took his mouth away and Stiles opened his eyes, careful not to make eye contact. The alpha grabbed a fistful of Stiles' collar.

"Submissive?"

"Yes, Scott," Derek said, dragging the smaller wolf under a shower head. "He's submissive to dominant enough wolves. It's a personality thing."

"He didn't mention anything about that," Scott scrunched his face up. Derek hadn't had to say "dominant wolves, like me." It was obvious what he meant. Derek turned the shower on and stepped back.

"He doesn't know."

Stiles spluttered as the cold water sluiced over him, soaking into his clothes, and to his immediate chagrin, his shoes as well. He tried to get up but groaned when parts of his body protested, aching. His back, particularly, felt like one big bruise. He found Scott and Derek watching him. He looked around, then back to the other wolves.

"Well this is awkward."

It was a good thing Stiles had an extra pair of clothes in his gym locker, otherwise he would have spent his chemistry class in wet clothes. Sloshing into class with wet shoes couldn't be helped, though.

The day was bad enough before Mr. Harris gave him and Scott detention for being late. The asshole implying that because of his treatment at the hands of the Sheriff he would be giving Stiles an extra hard time for the rest of the semester was icing on the cake.

Of course, bad days only get worse. After detention Stiles went to visit Lydia at the hospital. He spent a long time in the waiting room. Waiting. The hospital smelled awful; sterilizing chemicals and illness, mostly. While attempting his patented technique for getting stuck items out of vending machines Stiles forgot to take his new strength into account and the vending machine ended up propped against the opposite wall. Upside down. He left soon after.

"There's gotta be another way to do this."

"Come on man, this worked on me, remember?" Scott mocked, holding his lacrosse stick menacingly. A short distance across the field Stiles looked pale, hands bound with duct tape, Coach Finstock's heart monitor in place below his shirt.

"You look way too happy about this, buddy," Stiles returned, shifting his feet where he stood. "I think I misjudged how much I want to learn control."

"Just remember to keep your heart rate down," Scott said, hefting the lacrosse stick and trying to keep the smile off his face. Stiles didn't think he was trying hard enough. "Think of Lydia."

Stiles took 8 shots to the stomach, 1 to the head and 2 to the groin (that Scot apologized for) before he was ripping the duct tape apart and charging Scott. Halfway through shredding Scott's shirt a growl rippled across the dark field, followed by a commanding voice.

"Stiles, stop!" Derek's voice was calm and not quite loud. He spoke with absolute authority. Stiles froze and Scott took the opportunity to grab his arms. "Stiles, step back. Let him go Scott."

The two friends separated, but Scott kept his guard up, crouching low. Stiles glanced at Derek then quickly turned his eyes away. His mouth twitched over his teeth, holding back a snarl. Derek stepped close and gently put his hand on the back of Stiles' neck; the young wolf visibly relaxed.

"That is really handy," Scott said after he'd straightened up, still a little breathless. Derek ignored him.

"Stiles, breath deep," Derek's hand, though warm, felt cool on the back of Stiles' neck, thumb brushing the short hairs that grew there. Stiles shivered and took deep breathes. Between one breath and the next his wolf features faded back into his face. Several more chest stretching breaths and his eyes changed to normal. "You back?"

"Yeah," Stiles answered, still a little shaky. Derek's took his hand back. Stiles felt a little colder for it.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"Training," Scott said sheepishly. Stiles noticed Scott was trying to hide the lacrosse stick that he still held. The half of the stick he still held. Stiles groaned. "It worked for me."

"This is what you did?" Derek looked incredulously between Scott and Stiles. He shook his head, disbelieving. He was looking at Stiles as if he knew it was his idea. Stiles checked the urge to stick his tongue out at the man. "If you'd come to me I could have taught you a better way."

Stiles thought Derek sounded genuine. Derek was still looking right at him. For once Stiles felt like Derek wasn't mocking him.

"I can teach you how to control yourself, if you give me time."

He sounded so sincere, and maybe even gentle? Stiles was having trouble reconciling his notion of Derek with how he was acting now. But, he was willing to give him a second chance. He looked back into Derek's eyes and nodded slowly.

Scott made a choked sound and looked as if he was about to protest, but Stiles waved a silencing hand at him and made a face. "Dude, come on, you want me to choose to have you sling lacrosse balls at my nuts?"

Chapter 3: End

[OOC Bonus Scene: Takes place after Derek tells Scott Stiles doesn't know he's a submissive wolf. This scene is not canon to the story, but the substance of the conversation is. :D

"Derek," Scott asked as Stiles spluttered under the cold water, coming back to himself.

"What?"

"Have you just been waiting outside of our school all day, watching us?"

"No," Scott nodded his head, relieved. "I couldn't see you, I've just been listening."]

AN: There were some formatting issues in the last chapter that may have caused some confusion. I didn't notice them until this chapter, sorry! Everything has been fixed now and I'll be careful to watch for issues in the future. :)