Chapter Text
--
"Wait," Stiles said suddenly, something coming back to him. "His tattoo... Danny. I remember!"
It was coming back in flashes now, and he knew exactly how to at least kind of infiltrate the alpha pack.
Scott and the rest of the pack, brothers included, looked mighty confused, so he tried to hurriedly explain.
"Ethan," Stiles said, and Derek flinched just like Stiles had hoped. It proved he was right. "Danny's boyfriend. He's huge, he's uncharacteristically gorgeous, and he also has a tattoo on his arm that looks similar to what I saw you doodling, Derek."
Derek's eyes simmered with sadness and anger, remembering exactly the moment Stiles saw him drawing.
It made both of them uncomfortable, even the little mention of tattoos. It made Stiles think of the one time Derek let him get close enough to lightly trace his fingers over the one on his back, and Derek remembered how it felt...
Both of them unconsciously shook their heads, blushing furiously.
"I have to offer to meet Danny," Stiles said firmly. "And it has to be alone.
"Why alone?" Scott interrupted immediately, the beta's protective sense kicking in.
"He's a werewolf, Scott," Lydia said with a eye roll. "He's going to be able to sense Stiles' nervousness anyway-and even if we sent someone we barely know, say, /Sam/, he would still sense the protectiveness coming off him. "
Stiles was biting his cheek not to glare daggers at Lydia /or/ turn around and look at Sam, who probably wanted to run out of the house screaming by now.
"Fine then," Dean said, clapping his hands down on his knees. "Stiles, looks like you've got a lunch date."
~
The jeep was in the shop, so Stiles showed up to the café where he met Sam and Dean in Scott's beat up truck. It was getting to be mid afternoon, and it was going to be one of those crappy weather days, he could tell. Fog had settled over the ground, giving everything a mysterious feel and settling a chill in the air.
"Danny!" Stiles called as he jumped out of the truck.
"Stiles!" he called back warmly, flashing him a grin. "It's good to see you, dude."
"You too, man," he said, bravely taking a glance at Ethan, who was lightly holding hands with Danny.
"Hi," Ethan said, half smiling and offering Stiles his not occupied hand. Stiles prayed his hand wasn't sweaty and took it, lightly shaking it.
"Hope you're keeping Danny here out of trouble," Stiles said, stage winking at Danny as the three of them walked inside.
The café was surprisingly full today, customers yakking away at tables and waitresses carrying trays full of steaming drinks all around.
One of them almost knocked Stiles over as they stepped inside, jostling him into a stack of newspapers.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said smoothly, and Stiles looked up to tell her it was alright, but his mouth went completely dry when he saw her face, or more importantly her eyes.
Bright, startlingly gold ones. Wolf ones.
This was bad, really bad, super super bad, and Stiles needed to get out right the fuck now.
But then he remembered how it felt to be treated as the lesser, the weakest link of the pack, and he straightened up, looked the girl right in the eye, and said "Oh, no worries. I'm klutzy myself," and then met Danny and Ethan at a corner booth in the back.
He tried not to show how frazzled his nerves even as Ethan kept staring at him, only chiming in to Danny's chattering on when he had to.
The waitress, the same one from before, brought their drinks over and set them down, striking up a conversation with Ethan immediately. As she sashayed away, their orders in hand, Stiles looked up at Ethan and asked, "So, you know her?"
Ethan fixed a steady gaze on Stiles and leaned back, slightly into Danny. "Who, Kali?"
Point one for Stiles-another name, another possible lead.
"The waitress, yeah."
Ethan nodded carefully, his eyes glancing around the café quickly before coming back to Stiles.
"I come here a lot, it's close to my town," Ethan answered. "So yeah. Kali and I are friends."
Danny kept looking between them anxiously, his brow creasing with worry. "I'm gonna, uh," Danny said. "Go use the bathroom real quick. BRB."
He took one last look at the two boys, who both had intense eyes locked on each other, and then shook his head, heading off in search of the bathroom.
"Well, well, Stiles," Ethan said with a smug look plastered all over his face. "It's about time we met again, isn't it?"
He swallowed nervously, trying to control his heartbeat, but knowing it was useless.
"Why don't you and I go have a chat?" he continued, a completely mundane expression on his face.
"Yeah, right," Stiles laughed, and Ethan made eye contact with Kali from across the room, giving her one swift nod.
Carefully dropping the tray she was carrying, she walked surely toward the mens bathroom, striding right inside without a second glance back.
Stiles made a move to get out of the booth, but then felt something cold and hard press up against his leg.
A knife.
He took one calming breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, unable to believe he'd let himself (and Danny!) walk right into a trap.
"Let's go talk, buddy," Stiles said, a look of finality in his eyes.
"I'm so glad you agreed."
Ethan slid out of the booth, hopping down some steps and out the back maintenance entrance.
Every nerve in his body was shaking, he was sweating uncontrollably as he prayed that wherever the alphas took them, his pack would be able to find him.
"Nighty night, Stiles," whispered a female voice, and before he could even turn around there was a sharp prick on the back of his neck. The last thing he remembered before everything disappeared was the feeling of sharp gravel underneath his palms and the blurry face of Kali smirking down upon him.
Then it was blissfully dark.
~
He awoke fully the first time, babbling like crazy. It was like he couldn't stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth no matter what he did, no matter how hard he bit his tongue.
Now, as he came to, he recognized the taste of apples and almonds in his mouth. Strange, yes, but helpful as well. His movie watching history told him that the taste was sodium pentathol, otherwise known as truth serum.
His head was pounding like no other, and he realized that he was bound quite tightly to a wooden chair with thick rope bonds. They cut deeply into his wrists, and judging by the warm feeling dripping down his fingers, he guessed they were bleeding as well.
As if that wasn't bad enough, his face felt like it was on fire. He wasn't gagged, so he could look down and see the dark wetness spreading into his shirt. Gently, he licked his chapped lips, the taste of iron immediately filling his mouth.
Split lip: check.
Judging by the fact he couldn't see too well out of his left eye, black eye: check.
He couldn't remember what had happened before the got him with the needle outside of the restaurant too clearly, but he could piece together enough.
There had been pain. Lots and lots of pain. After they had pricked him in the neck, Kali sent him flying into the rocks with a swift kick to the ribs, and it only got worse from there. He struggled and fought, but his muscles (if you called them that) were no match for two werewolves.
They'd beaten him up badly, cackling and laughing the whole time, until the pain was making him fall in and out of consciousness.
"Bet you wish your alpha was here now, don't you?"
"Aw, poor baby. Do your ribs hurt? Here, let me give you something else to focus on."
He remembered a truck, a large one. A semi, white, unmarked. They threw him inside and slammed the door shut, laughing from behind it as he moaned from the tendrils of fear and hurt snaking into his skull as he hit the bottom of the trailer hard. He was out for the whole trip, only coming back when they threw him into the chair, tied him up, and waited for him to begin speaking.
At first, he attempted to fight the drug and the haziness it caused, but eventually after more punches to the stomach and many cracks across his cheek, he relented, and information spewed from his lips.
It was not a good feeling, being a traitor and being helpless to fight it.
Stupid, stupid, he chanted to himself, as if Ethan hadn't been calling him that enough, along with a slew of other things.
"You're awake again, good," Ethan's voice said from the darkness, someone flicking on a light, one bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
It was very kidnapper-movie esque, he would give them credit for that. What he could see out of his good eye was a bare basement, and not much else. It looked typical, just like one you might find at Scott's house or your local friendly Alpha pack's house.
He dragged a chair across the concrete, the excruciating noise making Stiles head throb and his pain index skyrocket to the max, feeling like his entire body was on fire.
"I see Kali gave you something to remember us by?" Ethan said, settling himself in the chair directly in front of Stiles.
Oh, yeah. There was that too, lest he forget.
Kali had taken a small, delicate knife and gently drawn the symbol of the alpha pack into Stiles clammy cheek. While he was awake.
He could feel it pulsing now, still dripping little rivulets of blood down his neck and soaking into his shirt. Lovely. Just lovely.
"Won't that be a spectacular reminder to your Alpha lover when he caresses your cheek." Ethan stated, arms crossed. Stiles did his best not to react, but knew the werewolf could smell the hatred and surprise coming off of him.
He let out a barking laugh, shoulders shaking like the bloody teenager in front of him was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
"Don't be so surprised," he said. "Between all the pack secrets you let out, all you kept blabbering was "Derek's gonna find me," "Derek is sooo gonna kick your ass when I get out of here," blah, blah. But, it seems that you denied him, didn't you?"
Shame spread through him, his face heating up as he didn't speak, remembering what had happened.
"Aww, poor baby," Ethan crooned, a faking a sad face. "Derek's got no use for you anymore, does he."
Stiles swallowed the lump quickly forming in his throat, willing himself to look away from Ethan and focus on something else. He settled on focusing on his wounds, which occupied him for a while before Ethan glanced worriedly at the door.
"Let me tell you something, human," he hissed, dragging the chair so close to Stiles their knees were practically touching.
"Look at me!"
The shout jarred Stiles and made his injuries scream, but defiantly he refused to look up. Ethan grabbed his chin and yanked it up, clenching it tightly within his grasp.
"Your pack is on their way here right now," Ethan growled through gritted teeth, gold eyes looking right at Stiles, who flooded with relief. "They might kill us. In fact, I know they will. But they will not kill our master, and they will not kill what's coming."
He looked again at the door, and Stiles didn't need werewolf senses to know Ethan could hear his pack outside.
"In fact, little human," Ethan said, his lips contorting into a evil smile. "What's coming is a thousand times more powerful then us."
He leaned toward Stiles ear and whispered "And those wolves you so love? They'll only be the first to be killed. Then your father, then perhaps your best friends mother, then-"
"GET THE FUCKING HELL AWAY FROM HIM!"
And then, the whole world went to hell.
~
Stiles listened as the door came down with a crack, shedding more light into the room. Derek came flying down the stairs in a single leap, the rest of the pack plus the Winchester's right behind him.
He watched as Ethan surrendered without a fight to Derek, watched as Derek's claws ripped at his skin mercilessly, more blood dripping all over the floor.
"Derek," Stiles croaked, beginning to feel woozy and nauseous all at once, almost positive Kali had drugged his Coke with a late acting drug. "Jesus, dude, could you no-"
Derek stopped to look at him, letting the body fall to the ground. His hands, shirt, everything, were streaked with red, even his eyes, as he stilled completely.
"Stiles," he whispered. "Oh, god."
~
He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting as he psyched himself up to enter the base of the Alpha pack. The GPS tracker Scott had so cleverly inserted into Stiles' phone had showed movement within 10 minutes of them arriving at the café (ten minutes!) but soon after it stopped moving someone found and disabled it, rendering it untracable. They leapt into action immediately, finding the house in a deserted subdivision about 10 miles away from the café.
And now, here they were.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved toward Stiles, who flinched when he saw him come toward him fully shifted.
Trying to calm the anger raging inside of him, Derek became human again, creeping forward still. He heard the teenagers heartbeat spike again, the scent of worry and shame coming off so strongly it was almost choking.
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Dean said, emerging from the shadows. "Look at him. He's a mess. He's terrified. Let Sam do it."
"Sam," Derek growled, eyes narrowing into slits as the young hunter stepped forward. He attempted to ignore the fact that Stiles' heart was racing, even though it was probably more from trauma more then anything else.
Probably. Right?
~
"Hey, Stiles," Sam said, taking cautious steps toward him. He still hadn't spoken a word after he said Derek's name, and Sam guessed he wouldn't be saying much anytime soon.
"Saaaam," he said, a stupid smile on his face, head lolling back against the chair. "Saaam, you're cute."
Drugs, he thought, trying not to blush. Had to be. He dug a pocketknife out of his pocket, the blade catching the light and shining brightly for a moment.
"Oh god no please," Stiles rambled all in one sentence. "God Sam no, not you too, oh god please no not my face, not again."
He quickly snapped the bonds on Stiles legs, trying to ignore the pitiful words coming out of his mouth.
And then he saw the mark on his cheek, and just about burst into tears himself.