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I Never Knew

Chapter Text

“This sucks Stiles, I can’t believe you’re not allowed to play lacrosse any more.” Scott said, whining slightly as he threw his puppy-dog eyes Stiles way.

Rolling his own eyes, Stiles grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before shrugging slightly.

“Yeah, I know that, Scotty, but the school has thousands of ridiculous rules about Omegas - turns out apparently anything remotely entertaining is now completely off-limits to little ol’ me.” He replies, one arm flailing wildly as he made his way towards the door to the classroom, Scott trailing behind with a small pout on his lips.

He’d presented as Omega only ten days prior, catching both Stiles and his father off guard - they’d assumed he’d take after John and present Beta, not even thinking for a second that he’d actually take after his mother. Male Omegas, though not completely unheard of, were rare enough that as far as Stiles knew, there were only a couple in the whole of Beacon Hills, the official figures stating that barely 5% of the population were ‘fortunate’ enough to have presented as such (yeah, Stiles had laughed at that particular wording when he’d looked up the statistics a few days after his heat had finally abated and he’d managed to pry himself off his slick-and-sweat-sodden bed sheets for long enough to read up on his designation). Without taking the small odds of presenting Omega into account, if anyone had told him only a few weeks earlier that he’d soon be experiencing the worst three days of constant erections and near insatiable sexual desire he’d ever imaged, he probably would have recommended psychiatric help for them. He didn't, in any way, shape or form, act like the meek and mild, completely submissive creature that typical Omegas were thought of as. Hell, he didn't even look like an Omega, lanky limbed and broad shouldered that he was. But no, as tall and manly as he liked to think himself, he’d woken up one Wednesday morning with a temperature he hadn't thought possible - at least not without spontaneous combustion - his skin stretched tight over his skin and an itch somewhere deep inside him that gave him an urgency for something, anything, to abate. Only when his father had come upstairs to his room, wondering why he hadn't been downstairs to grab his breakfast, did it finally click somewhere in Stiles head exactly what was happening to him, presentation. His Dad had taken one look at him, seen the flushed skin and laboured panting, the overwhelmingly sweet scent being let off in waves throughout the room, and swiftly realised that his son had finally presented. He had quickly backed up out of the bedroom, shooting a small smile and a promise of supplies for the following few days Stiles’ way, before leaving Stiles alone to think of a way to get rid of pure, desperate need that was coursing through him, (and seemingly leaking profusely out of his ass). So, five days and over 60 orgasms later, Stiles found himself as a freshly presented, and in no way happy about it, Male Omega.

Shaking his head slightly to rid his mind of the mess that had now become his life, Stiles cocked his arm in a small wave at Scott, wishing him luck with the ever-irritable Coach and undoubtedly harsh training regime that he’d managed to concoct over the weekend, before making his way out of the school.

Stiles quickly gets into his car and starts her up, wanting to avoid the now seemingly daily occurrence of catcalls and wolf whistles that were directed his way since he'd returned to school the previous week. The assholes, (sorry, Alpha's) that insisted on throwing crude slurs and quite frankly cringe worthy offers at him whenever they spotted Stiles alone were the very same guys that had successfully made both his and Scott's school life as close to Hell as possible over the last year or so and Stiles had absolutely no plans on entertaining them. He'd already realised, after throwing back a few ill-advised retorts to their advances on his first day back, that his new-found designation came with a rather irritating drawback (seriously, as far as Stiles was concerned, being an Omega didn't actually have any positives at all), in the form of unconscious submission, an Alpha uses a certain tone of voice and commands Stiles jump? Yeah, rather than telling the Alpha to go fuck himself, he finds himself asking “how high?” instead. The first time it had happened at school, he’d looked it up online and found a few ways other Omegas had managed to try to resist, but actually being able to do so was proving harder to accomplish than he thought, so he tended to just avoid being on his own for any length of time when it could become an issue.

Stiles makes the short journey home and soon finds himself pulling up onto his driveway and making his way inside, dropping his bag on the floor in the hallway before walking towards the kitchen, intent on getting a few snacks in before his dad gets home.

He pauses with his hand on the door to the fridge, a whole-body shiver running over him, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he takes in the unknown scents permeating from somewhere within the house. Alpha, clearly, if the deep earthy tones are anything to go by, and more than one, from what Stiles’ still-untrained nose can decipher.

Trying to ignore the rising bubble of panic in his chest as he hears the quiet creaking of the stairs as the intruders make their way down, Stiles quickly grabs the nearest utensil to use as a weapon before making his way towards the kitchen door, hoping to get out quickly enough to call his dad before he’s spotted.

“Don’t think you’re gonna do much damage with a spatula, sweetheart.” One of the intruders says, the smirk on his face clear without Stiles even having to turn around to see it.

Stiles jumps, the spatula dropping to the floor with a clatter as his arms flail, his heart near beating out of his chest.

“Wh-Who the hell are you?!” He splutters out as he turns around, seeing two large, identical alphas between himself and the front door.

“Don’t think that’s really important right now.” The Alpha on the left replies replies, taking a couple of large steps towards him, causing Stiles to retreat further back.

“Why the hell are you in my house?” Stiles asks, his eyes scanning the room for something to use against the ridiculously large men in front of him, knowing the chances of him being able to call for help is next to nil with his phone sat in the bag at the door and the land line located on the other side of the kitchen, behind the twins.

“That’s also not important, sweetie. We just need you to go ahead and come with us and nobody gets hurt, ok princess?” The Alpha takes several more steps towards him and Stiles finds himself backed up to the kitchen cabinets, the edge of the worktop pushing solidly into his lower back.

“Princess? Princess? I’m an Omega, not a fucking girl.” He manages to snarl out, moving sideways slightly, edging away from the two men.

The second Alpha lets out a small chuckle, joining his brother in front of Stiles.

“He’s funny Aiden, shame we don’t get to keep him. I like ‘em feisty.” He says, cocking his head to the side as his eyes do a quick sweep of Stiles body, licking his lips salaciously. “Not bad looking either, you sure the Boss’ll mind if we try him out first?”

The other Alpha, Aiden, snarls at his brother before bridging the small gap between himself and Stiles and roughly grabbing onto his arm, thwarting any chance Stiles had of getting out of the kitchen, “Quit fucking about, Ethan. You want your dick to still be attached to your body this time tomorrow, you’ll keep it in your pants.”

Still chuckling, Ethan grabs onto Stiles’ other arm, easily batting away Stiles’ weak attempts at resistance and squeezing tightly.

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, struggling to get his arms out of the twins’ strong grip as he kicked out at the two of them “Get-…get the fuck off me! Let me go!”

“No can do, sweetheart,” Aiden replies calmly, walking towards the front door.

The closer the three of them get to the door, the harder Stiles’ struggles become, kicking and thrashing about as he tries to loosen their grips on him long enough to slip out from between them. He feels sweat begin to blossom on his forehead, the scent of distressed Omega radiating from him in waves as he tries to get away.

“Jesus Christ, I hate it when the little bitches do that.” Ethan whines, using his free hand to wave the sour scent away, “Can’t we knock him out or something? At this rate the whole fucking neighbourhood is gonna smell him.”

“He said to bring him back alive, didn’t mention anything about him being conscious.” Aiden shrugs, “Hold onto him for a second.”

Ethan takes Stiles other arm into his hand, then proceeds to pull both arms around Stiles chest, holding him tightly to Ethan's own. Stiles kicks out blindly, managing to hit Ethan's knee a couple of times, but quickly tiring himself out.

“Please! Please, let me go!” Stiles begs as his chest heaves, his breathing restricted from the strong hold Ethan has on him, “I don’t know anything! I haven’t done anything! Please!”

He sees Aiden remove a small bottle from his back pocket, quickly dousing a small rag with copious amounts of the strong smelling chemical.

“NO! Please!” He cries, panic rising quickly as the broad man holds the rag up and brings it towards him, tears springing to his eyes as it comes closer.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no can do.” Aiden says, no hint of sympathy in his voice as he raises the cloth to Stiles face, easily cupping both his nose and mouth with one hand, “Just take a nice deep breath and everything’ll be ok.”

Shaking his head violently, Stiles tries to pull away, the hand around his face following each movement with ease. He feels his head grow heavy, his lungs protesting from the lack of oxygen as his vision darkens around the edge. He feels the arms around his chest tighten and reflexively takes a deep breath to counteract the action, breathing in the sharp tang of the chemical, his mind swiftly going blank before he succumbs to the darkness, his whole body going limp.

Chapter Text

Derek wakes with a gasp, his heart beating wildly in his chest and sweat gathering as a sheen over his skin. He sits up, his head pounding with the action as he quickly tries to gather his thoughts. His dreams over the last few weeks had been intense, flashes of pale creamy skin and moles flickering over his mind’s eye, but what had just woken him was different. Whoever it was that he was dreaming about, someone he couldn't recall ever even meeting, was terrified, but Derek couldn't bring forth the reason why, his mind forgetting the dream with every passing moment, leaving only the tendrils of pain and fear in its wake.

He throws off the sheets, noticing that his strange dreams have forced forward some of his werewolf features, his nails elongated and the hair on his arms coarse and long. He retracts his nails before swinging his legs around to the side of the bed, groaning as the movement makes him sway slightly, forcing him to brace himself before getting up and making his way to his bathroom. He looks at the pale face of his reflection as he brushes his teeth, his eyes flickering between Alpha red and his usual muggy hazel, causing confusion to be soon added to the long list of weird emotions he wasn't used to feeling after what should have been a great night’s sleep. He hadn't had this much trouble controlling his shift since he was an adolescent, definitely not in the last ten years or so, and never from a few weird dreams. After spitting out the toothpaste and wiping his face, he undresses completely and gets into the shower, hoping the cold water can help to shock his body into letting go of the uncomfortable feeling churning in his gut.

The shower manages to wake him fully, his stomach settling enough for him to chance a breakfast, but he finds himself unable shake the slight sense of dread washing over him. Ignoring it as best he can, he dresses quickly before making his way to the kitchen and, seeing the already percolating coffee and piles of food on the kitchen side, huffs out a small sigh.

“Why do you guys insist on letting yourselves in and helping yourself to all my food every morning?” He said, raising one brow as three heads of his pack mates swivel round to face him from their positions at the table.

“If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have given us all keys!” Erica says with a smile from her place on Boyd’s lap, bringing a huge chunk of syrup and butter covered pancake to her mouth and shovelling it in in one bite.

“And don’t lie Derek, if we didn't come in and make you food, you’d live off those god awful protein shakes you’re so obsessed with. We’re doing you a favour, man.” Isaac adds, his own plate piled high with eggs and bacon.

Boyd stays silent, only raising his own eyebrow in a silent you know their right, before returning his attention to his mate happily munching away on his knee.

Derek lets out another sigh before walking over to the coffee, grabbing his favourite mug and filling it to the brim, swiftly gulping down a large portion of it sans sugar or creamer. He plates up a breakfast for himself, sticking to the eggs and vegetables that Erica always cooked especially for him, before sitting down next to Isaac.

“You don’t look so good Derek,” Isaac says as Derek sits, his voice laced with worry as the Omega takes in the Alphas pale face, “Trouble sleeping?”

Shrugging slightly, Derek swallows the large forkful of scrambled eggs before replying.

“I keep…I keep having these really weird dreams.” He says, deciding that, despite his absolute loathing of talking about anything even closely relating to feelings, he's better off telling the truth about what's bothering him in the hopes that one of the other three would know what was causing it in the first place.

“Dreams?” Erica pipes in, placing her fork on the now empty plate in front of her before shooting a smirk at him, “You finally grown up enough to have sexy, sexy dreams Derek? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Not those kind of dreams, Erica!” Derek flushes, his cheeks and ears heating up, “They’re weird, like, not normal dreams? I don’t know. I don’t know the person anyway, I just get snippets of them, never talk or actual do anything, but then last night, they were really panicked about something – I don’t know what – and when I woke up I just, I felt terrible, like I need to help them but I've got no idea how. It’s probably nothing, right? It’s just that it feels so real. Have any of you had anything like that before?”

Erica’s face turns thoughtful for a moment and is about to speak before Boyd cuts in.

“I had that, after I first met Erica. Didn’t know anything about her, just saw her in school one day and then couldn’t stop dreaming about her, didn’t have any of the panicking or whatever though, and it all stopped when we actually got together.” He says with a slight shrug.

“Oh, Derek! Maybe you’ve met your mate and now you’re having crazy psychic dreams!” Erica says, her face splitting out in a massive grin.

“What’s with the panicking thing though?” Isaac inquires quietly, “You think they might be in trouble or something?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says, letting out a frustrated sigh despite the thrill that coursed through his veins at the mention of mate, “I’ve got this weird feeling though. Like, an urge, it feels like I need to go and do something.”

“Go?” Isaac looks at him in confusion, “Go where?”

“Home,” Derek replies, bracing himself for the shit storm that he’s about to unleash with his next words. “To Beacon Hills.”

The kitchen goes quiet, and Derek barely dares to lift his eyes from the plate of food in front of him, but he forces himself to, needing to see what his friends think.

Isaac looks pale, his hand shaking slightly as he puts down his own utensils. Erica looks at him, her eyes crinkling in worry before turning to Derek.

“Why? I thought we left all that shit behind when we decided to come here,” She says, her voice rising slightly in frustration, “We agreed we wouldn't go back! The shit that Isaac went through, hell, the shit you went through back there, we agreed we’d leave it behind and start somewhere new. Why now?”

“I don’t know why, Erica.” Derek replies earnestly, bringing his hands up almost pleadingly, “I just, I just need to. I can’t explain it. Whatever’s happening with these dreams or whatever, it’s got something to do with Beacon Hills and I need to find out what it’s all about.”

“And what, we’re supposed to just drop everything, school and work, and traipse halfway across the country to look for someone you don’t even know, who may or may not be in trouble, because you've got some whacked out dreams and a hunch?” Erica all but hisses out as Isaac's scent sours the room.

“I'm not asking you to come with me,” Derek replies, “You guys are sorted here, and I’ll probably only be gone for a few weeks. There’s no need for you to join me.”

Erica deflates, letting out a huff of breath as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“We have to,” Isaac says quietly from beside Derek, the tremble in his voice clear to all of them, “If it’s your mate…we have to be there with you, Derek. I won’t like it, I never thought I’d have to go back, but it’s alright. We can manage it for you, you know? And if it’s only for a couple of weeks, school will be ok about it, we could just say there’s a family emergency or something.”

“Isaac, what-“ Erica begins, before Isaac cuts her off.

“No, Erica. Derek’s done so much for us.” He says, voice becoming stronger with every word, the finality of what he's saying obvious to all of them, “He got us all out of some pretty shitty situations, and he brought us here with him. He didn't have to do that. Didn't have to become a guardian for a bunch of rag-tag teenagers, but he did. It’s the least we can do.”

Derek looks over at Isaac, gratitude clear on his face as he lightly grasps Isaac's wrist, hoping to sooth away the slight worry still lingering in the Omega’s scent.

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything, you know?” He says as he gently thumbs the pressure point on Isaac's wrist, “I knew what I was getting into, taking in you three. I don’t expect you to feel obligated or anything, I didn't do it so you’d owe me anything.”

Rolling her eyes, Erica gets up from her perch and begins the clear the table, Boyd quietly following her lead.

“Yeah, we know that,” She says with an exasperated huff, “Just shut up and accept it. Hale pack road trip, here we come. I just hope they're worth it, I hate long trips.”

Isaac chuckles slightly as a grin spreads across Derek’s face. The panic he’d felt all morning momentarily leaving him as his body filled with the happy, content smell of Pack.

“So, when’re we going?” Erica asks as she places the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, “’Cause I’m gonna need some time to pack.”

“As soon as, if possible.” Derek replies, his mind already thinking over everything he needs to get done before they can leave, “It’d probably be easier for us to fly, I’ll go check flight times and see if I can manage to get some for later today. If you guys could call your school and let them know you’ll be out for the next couple of weeks, I’ll text you the flight details once I've booked them.”

“Don’t mess about do you?” Erica says with a slight laugh, “Yeah, just let us know.”

The two Betas and Omega soon leave, and Derek makes his way to his office, firing up his laptop and looking up flight times to California, apprehension rising within him as he thinks of what could be waiting for him when he gets there.

Chapter Text

Stiles groans, his head throbbing dully and his tongue feeling like lead within his parched mouth. He shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable, his bed feeling a lot harder than what he’s used to. He moves a little onto his side and feels his hand resist the movement, cold metal biting into the tender skin of his wrist as loud chains rattle somewhere to the side of his head. He opens his eyes with effort, his lids still sleep-heavy, and immediately feels panic bloom in his chest as he realises that he’s lying naked, goose bumps breaking out all over his skin in the cold room. He looks around wildly, finally realising that he isn't lying in his bed at home after an impromptu nap, but in what looks to be an old office, his bed actually an aged mattress set straight on the floor. Memories of the two Alphas that had broken into his house and taken him spring to mind and he struggles against the shackles tied to both wrists and ankles, taking in the concrete walls and bared pipework throughout the room, but soon finds the struggle a wasted effort, the cool iron thick and aged and almost impossible for anyone, let alone a drug weakened Omega, to break free of. He wants to shout out, scream for help, but knows that he’d only be informing his kidnappers that he was now awake and so keeps as quiet as he can with his heart beating wildly in his chest and the scent of distress spreading quickly throughout the room.

His breathing quickens and he can feel the tell-tale heaviness in his limbs and head of an incoming panic attack, but before it manages to get a solid grip on him, the door on the other side of the room opens with a loud creak, a tall well-dressed man walking in with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well, hello there little one,” He says, his eyes sweeping over Stiles body, pausing a beat at his penis, before taking measured steps towards Stiles. Stiles, in turn attempts to cover his unclothed body, his hands reaching down to shield his cock from the other man’s predatory gaze but being restricted by the chains around his wrists a good foot away from it.

The rich, heady scent of a powerful Alpha reaches Stiles before the man does, and he feels his whole body shudder in reply to it, his head turning slightly to bare his neck to the older man without conscious thought from Stiles himself.

“Well aren't you just a submissive little thing,” The Alpha says as he reaches the bed, bending down low, close to the glands on Stiles’ neck, and breathing in the Omega’s scent. One of his large, cool hands lightly wrapping around Stiles’ neck to cup and hold his head in place, whilst the other travels down Stiles chest, pausing momentarily at the nipples before continuing its journey south, stopping only once it had reached the rough thatch of his pubic hair. The man’s eyes roll slightly as the smell of fresh cinnamon and toffee apples reaches his nose. “Don’t you just smell divine? Perfect. I'm going to have a lot of fun with you, little one.”

The sound of the Alpha’s voice so close to his ear shocks Stiles, the fingers lightly teasing through his pubic hair quickly helping to clear his mind and he struggles once again against the binds holding him, unsuccessfully trying to get distance between himself and the man above, dreading the idea of the man taking his actions any further, despite the treacherous twitch his cock gives at the close proximity of a hand other than Stiles own being close to it.

“Please,” He manages to choke out through the heavy, spicy scent clogging his throat, his voice croaky from disuse, and clearly panicked, “Please, let me go.”

Anger flashes across the Alphas face, his eyes flickering to red before returning to their usual icy blue, and before Stiles even has a chance to take a breath, he finds a hand wrapped tightly around his throat, cold fingers digging mercilessly into the glands below each ear. His eyes widen as his gaze meets that of hard blue.

Calm. Down.” The Alpha hisses at him, his Alpha tone resonating deep within Stiles and forcing him to take a deep breath, his heartbeat slowing for the first time since he woke up. Upon seeing the instant submission, the Alpha chuckles darkly in his ear as he loosens his grip minutely, “Good boy.”

Stiles whines, though whether from the praise or from fear of the situation, he can’t say.

“Please,” He begs, still weary of the tight grip the man still has on his throat as he speaks, “I don’t understand-“

“Of course you don’t,” The man cuts him off, “I wouldn't expect you to. All you need to do is be a good Omega and do as your Alpha says, then nobody needs to get hurt, alright?”

Anger and confusion quickly sweeps over Stiles at the man’s words,

“My Alpha?” He chokes out, his struggles increasing once again in his attempts to distance himself from his capturer. “I don’t have an Alpha! I've only been an Omega for like, two weeks!”

The sting of a slap ceases his movements, the force of it snapping his head to the side as heat blossoms on his cheek, the dull ache spreading and tears springing to his eyes, his breath hitching in surprise.

“Yet.” The man grits out, sending a strong shudder down Stiles body. “You don’t have an Alpha, yet.”

“No! No, please!” Stiles begs, the tears falling from his eyes and mixing with the sticky sweat at his hairline as he realises what the Alpha plans to do with him, “Please don’t.”

“All in good time,” The Alpha assures him, removing his hands from Stiles neck completely and straightening his clothing as he stands to full height, “It’s nothing you need to worry about yet, little one. I still have a few things that need setting up before we can do it all, officially.”

“Please, don’t. I'm not-… I'm not worth mating with,” Stiles pleads, desperately trying to get out of the rapidly escalating situation he finds himself in, “I-I'm a crap Omega, please! You've got to believe me, there’s others, so much better! You don’t need me, please!”

The man raises a brow at Stiles’ rambling, his arms crossing lightly over his chest.

“No, it has to be you.” He says simply, irritation seeping into his words as he continues. “I've been waiting a very long time for this. For you, and I don’t really intend on letting this chance go to waste.”

“For me?” Stiles says, eyes wide, “B-but why? Please tell me why!”

“I did rather want to keep it a secret for a little while longer,” The Alpha sighs, “But who can say no to those pretty little eyes, hm?”

He turns slowly, his head cocking slightly in thought before he speaks again.

“The Beacon Hills territory, it’s belonged to my family for generations, hundreds of years,” The man says, his voice growing louder as he speaks, “And it’s being wasted. I'm sure you recall the Hale fire? It would've been when you were only young, but plenty of people still talk about it even now, the disgusting, pathetic gossiping of a small town, that it is.”

He looks over at Stiles, his brow raising a little at his question, as Stiles wrack's his brain, he had heard of the Hale fire. Of course he had. He’d only been young at the time, and the death of his mother had happened not long after, taking over his life completely for a few years, but he could still recall vague facts about it.

“My whole family,” The Alpha continued, “My entire family, bar three, died in that fire. My sister, my mate. Gone. And all that was left was me, a severe burns victim in a coma, and two children.”

He sneers slightly as he begins slowly pacing the room, Stiles eyes following him as he goes.

“The pack, the territory, it should have all be MINE.” The older man growls out, scent spiking before he manages to rein himself in, “But alas, it passed on to the eldest of the surviving children. Laura, my dear niece. And then after she died, to my nephew. The very same nephew that managed to get my whole family killed in the first place.”

Stiles eyes widen as realisation finally hits, Peter Hale. This man, this Alpha was Peter Hale. He'd been trapped in the burning house with his whole family, watched his entire family die around him but had somehow managed to survive. As far as Stiles was aware, he'd been in long term care at the local mental health facility, and no one believed he'd make any kind of recovery, his injuries too severe for even his werewolf healing powers to work properly. And yet here he was, looking nothing like the burns victim that he was, no trace of scarred skin, or wasted years in a hospital bed. And he was pissed. Jesus Christ, he was furious. Stiles felt himself quake slightly, before his attention snapped back to Peter.

“Beacon Hills is technically dear, sweet, useless little Derek’s.” Peter says, his falsely cheerful tone biting at the end, “And I do despise technicalities. I aim to fix that.”

He turns to face Stiles head on, his pacing ceasing immediately as a slow smirk spread across his face,

“And you’re going to help me.”

Chapter Text

After settling his things into the hotel room he’d booked for the four of them, Derek decides to make his way over to the Police Department, knowing that any visiting werewolves had to make themselves known to the local law enforcement upon arrival.

"You sure you don't want one of us to come down there with you, Derek?" Isaac asks quietly as Derek pockets his keys and wallet before shrugging on his leather jacket.

"Nah, it's fine Isaac. You guys just stick around here, get unpacked or whatever." He says shaking his head slightly, knowing all too well how uncomfortable Isaac would be not only having to walk through Beacon Hills, but also stepping inside the police department. Too many memories, none of which pleasant, plagued the young Omega and Derek had no intention of making their trip any more difficult that it already was. "Go ahead and order something from room service if you want, they've got my card details so you shouldn't have any problems."

"Oh, room service?" Erica trills from the bathroom where she's placing her toiletries, "You sure you wanna be making such big promises, Derek? Giving us free reign to order what we like? You know I might be tempted to take advantage."

Derek chuckles lightly as she returns to the room, shooting a wink his way.

"I'll just have to trust that Boyd'll stop you from ordering everything off the menu."

"You know he gives in way too easily, Der. All I have to do is promise him an extra long blowj-"

"Ok, ok! Stop right there! I don't want to know." He says, raising his arms in surrender. "Order what you like."

"Think you just got played, Derek." Isaac says as he hangs his clothing up in the wardrobe, the sickly sour scent that had been clouding him since they'd landed abating slightly during the kind-hearted teasing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Derek says with a wave of his hand. "I'm gonna get going, I wont be long, but if anything happens give me a call and I'll come straight back, alright?"

Once he's given the affirmative from each of his betas, he leaves, setting off for the Police department on the other side of time, holding onto a little bit of hope that the Sheriff may even be able to help him with finding the mate he apparently had living somewhere in Beacon Hills.

When he arrives, the Police department is in complete disarray, several of the deputies letting off heavy scents of distress, worry and anger as they type away at their computers.

Raising his eyebrow slightly as he makes his way over to the front desk, he feels his own body tense up in response to the high levels of panic being projected from several members of staff.

“The Sheriff is busy at the moment, you’ll have to come back later.” The Alpha male at the front desk says as Derek stops before him, not bothering to lift his head up from the paperwork he was filling out.

“Oh, er-“ He stutters slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck as he absently scratched at the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening slightly at the quick dismissal, “Do you know when he’ll be available? I was told by the guys in customs at the airport that I'm supposed to drop by to introduce myself once I got here.”

“I'm sorry, you’ll have to come back later, the Sheriff just doesn't have time to see you right now. I can let him know you've popped in and to expect you here again tomorrow perhaps. Ok, Mr-?”

“Hale. Derek Hale.” He replies quickly.

The man’s head shoots up, his eyes going comically wide as he looks up at him.

Derek Hale?” He says, standing up and leaning his arm on the raised edge of the reception desk, “I've heard a lot about you, didn't think you lived round these parts anymore. Oh, I'm Deputy Parrish, by the way.”

Derek flushes further under his intense gaze, but quickly gets himself under control.

“Yeah, nice to meet you Deputy, and well, I've been away for a while. Thought I’d drop by for a visit, you know?”

“Mmhm, well, I am sorry Derek but the Sheriff is having a bit of a hard time at the minute,” He says, regret evident in his voice as he drops it to a whisper, “His son’s missing. Got the whole town searching for him, but it’s been two days and no hide nor hair of him anywhere. He’s frantic, understandably. We all are, most of us love him as if he’s our own, you know?”

“His son?” Derek asks, realising that the sombre mood and sour scents were probably due to the missing boy, he’d probably grown up around all of the staff here if his father was the Sheriff. “That’s terrible. Any idea why?”

“Well, obviously I can’t go into details or anything with you, what with it being an ongoing investigation and everything, but it can’t hurt to have a few more eyes and ears on the lookout for him,” He says, sighing heavily before continuing, “Stiles is an Omega. Only recently presented as well, not even two weeks ago. Apparently left school the day before yesterday, parked up out the front of his house and then disappeared. His bag was left in the hallway, but there wasn't any sign of a struggle or anything. We think it might be one of the Omega selling rings that got him. Male Omegas are hard to come by, especially with their dwindling numbers these days. Just didn't think that kind of thing could happen here, you know? Worst crimes we get round here are the odd stolen bicycle or overdue library book.”

He lifts up a piece of paper containing a photograph for Derek to look at, a large MISSING typed in bold red above a picture of a young boy, barely older than 16 if Derek was to hazard a guess. He feels his stomach lurch slightly at the pale, creamy white skin, dotted in various places with dark moles, the upturned nose and bright, brilliant amber eyes drawing his breath.

This boy, this Omega, Derek was willing to put everything he owned on it being the boy he’d been dreaming of. The panic he’d felt the previous morning obvious now. He’d been taken, kidnapped, and was probably being held captive whilst Derek slept and dreamt of him.

Derek’s hands clutch the paper tightly as he takes several deep, steadying breaths to calm himself. The deputy behind the desk looks at him, worry evident in his features,

“Are you ok-?”

“Get the Sheriff,” Derek manages to grit out, his hand shaking slightly as he looked back down at the shining eyes of the young boy, “I need to speak with him. Now.”

“Yeah, er, yeah alright. Hold on right there a minute.” He says, hastily standing and making his way towards the back of the room where the Sheriff’s office door stood closed. Derek sees him knock quickly on the door before opening it and stepping inside, coming out only moments later followed by the Sheriff, who’s pale and drawn out face soon set into one of determination as he makes his way towards Derek.

“Hale, right?” The Sheriff says in lieu of greeting, “You know something about my son?”

“No, not…not exactly.” Derek replies quickly, unsure of the best way to go about explaining what he’s experienced, “Is there somewhere we can go to talk in private? I, er, I need to tell you something that will probably sound a little bit crazy, but I swear it’s not,”

“Just spit it out!” The Sheriff huffs out irritably, his patience quickly wearing thin.

“I'm sorry,” Derek apologises, trying to figure out the best way to explain himself and coming up completely blank. “I just…it’s…look, I woke up yesterday an absolute mess, and knew I needed to come here. I've got no idea why, I live in New York for Christ’s sakes, I've not thought about Beacon Hills since I left. But I woke up, and I had this urge or something and I just had to come. And I think it has something to do with your son. I recognise him. I don’t think I've ever even met him before, but I do. I don’t know what’s happening but I want to help you, I need to help you find your son.”

The Sheriff looks at Derek in confusion before speaking.

“Let me get this straight,” He says, one eyebrow raising slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest, “You woke up and had an urge to come here, and you think it’s because you've got some kind of freaky psychic connection with my son or something?” He huffs slightly, running one of his hands over his face tiredly, “I seriously haven’t got time for this. Come back when you've got some actual useful information, kid.”

“No, wait, please,” Derek says, grabbing onto the Sheriffs arm as the older man turns to move away back to his office, “I wouldn't have come all this way for nothing. Please. My pack mates, two of my betas are Mates, True Mates, and everything that’s been happening to me, the dreams and weird feelings, it’s what happened to them before they got together. I don’t know why it’s happening now, when I've obviously not been around him, it might have something to do with him presenting recently or something. Maybe you only feel the bond or whatever once both parties are of age, I'm not sure. But all I know is, I've got to do this. I've got to help you find him. Please. I need to know.”

“True mates?” The Sheriff says, turning back around to look at Derek, “You expect me to believe-? He’s not a werewolf, son. We don’t have True Mates.”

“Sheriff, maybe it’s not so strange? It’s worth a shot if it helps to bring Stiles home.” The deputy at the front desk says quietly, the plea in his voice clear, “We need all the help we can get. We all know that.”

The Sheriff looks between the two Alpha's in front of him. Both of them looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He'd be half tempted to clip them both round the back of the head if the situation had been any less dire than it currently was. Rolling his eyes slightly, he pulls his arm out of Derek's slack grip,

“God dammit, I don't like this. At all. But ok..” He says, his hand once more returning to rub at his sleep deprived, aching eyes, “You can help. I don’t know how, but, I guess it doesn't hurt to try. Any funny business though Hale, and I’ll shove you in a cell until I find my son, got it?”

“Yes sir, thank you.” Derek nods vehemently, his chest instantly feeling a little lighter at the thought of actively helping to find his missing mate. He'd get the boy back, Derek would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

After spending a large portion of his morning speaking with the Sheriff and going over their plans for later that day, Derek returns to the hotel room to find his three betas lounging on one of the beds in a pile of tangled arms and legs as they watch the television, various snacks littered around them on the quilt cover and drinks stacked high on either bedside table. Upon seeing Derek enter the room and sensing the slight tinge of apprehension in his scent, they sit up and untangle themselves, Isaac quick to mute the television and focus his attention on his alpha.

“Derek, you were gone for ages,” Isaac says managing to unwrap himself from the cocoon he’d buried himself into and getting up, walking towards him, a frown on his face as he takes in the slight worried wrinkle between Derek’s heavy brows, “Was everything ok?”

Derek runs a hand through his hair, huffing slightly as he removes his jacket, throwing it on an empty chair before wrapping an arm around the Omega’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well no, not really.” He stutters out, unsure where to even start with everything he’s learnt that day. “I think I've found him. My mate that is.”

All three betas light up, relief evident in their expressions as they crowd their alpha.

“That’s great, Der!” Erica says as she gives him a tight squeeze around the middle, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as she continues, “What’re they like? Male or female? Omega? Beta? Tell me, tell me!”

“Cool it will you?” Derek grunts, extracting himself from her embrace. “He’s male, an Omega-“

“I knew it-!”

Erica! Shut up for a minute and let me talk will you?” Derek cuts in before she can interrupt again. He walks over to the bed, settling heavily amongst the wrappers of his betas earlier snacks, before sighing, his hands wringing tightly in his lap. “He’s an Omega, and he’s gone missing. I think that’s why I've been so panicked all day. Someone took him from his house yesterday and he hasn't been seen since. Sheriffs got the whole police department looking for him, practically the whole town, but no one has caught even the slightest hint of his scent or anything.”

His three pack mates stare wide-eyed, the scent of their worry mingling together in a thick smog around the room. Isaac sits himself down next to Derek, unlocking Derek’s tightly clenched hands and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“What can we do?” He says quietly, sympathy rolling off him in waves as he takes in his alpha’s slumped shoulders. “We can help, right? The four of us?”

Clearing his throat, Derek returns Isaac's squeeze before looking around at each beta, the determination to help find his missing mate evident in their stances.

“The sheriff, he’s gonna let me know when he gets off his shift, then hopefully we can go down to his place and see if we can scent any of the intruders. Apparently they only have one werewolf in the town, Stiles’ best friend Scott, but he couldn't make out any of the other scents. He was bitten a couple of years ago by a rogue, but he only presented Alpha as his second gender a few months ago and hasn't really gotten the hang of his heightened senses yet. We should have a better chance of following it at any rate, the Sheriff has made sure to pretty much quarantine his house so that it isn't dispersed too much. Only he and a couple of other Beta’s have been in since Scott failed to identify or trace them so it’s been mostly left untouched.”

“We’ll find him Derek,” Isaac says with conviction, determination sweeping through him, “You should have a better chance at following it right? If he’s your mate, you’ll be attuned to him. Plus you’re a born werewolf, you've got just about the best nose out of anyone I've ever met!”

“That’s what I'm hoping anywa-“

“What the hell’s a Stiles?” Erica interrupts, barely paying attention to Isaac as her head cocks to the side slightly, eyes narrowed at her alpha.

A quick grin spreads across Derek’s lips as he huffs out a small laugh, “Not a, but rather, who. Stiles is my mate. According to one of the deputies I met, his real name is a bit of a mouthful, only his dad can pronounce it properly I think. He likes to be called Stiles.”

Erica bursts into a fit of giggles, hand clenching at her stomach as she tries to catch her breath.

“Pffft, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it’s completely inappropriate for me to be laughing right now but seriously, Stiles. Jesus. Out of the thousands of names he could've picked, he went for that as his nickname? Kid’s hilarious, I like him already.” She manages to say between her chuckles before wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

Boyd smiles slightly as he takes in his giggling mate, his arm wrapping around her waist as Isaac looks on, his eyes rolling as he lets out a small huff of fake irritation.

“It’s not that funny Erica. I'm sure Stiles is a perfectly fitting name for him, right Derek?” He says as he looks over at his alpha, glad to see the affection on the man’s face as he returns his gaze.

“Yeah,” He says softly in reply, looking down at his hands once again, “It suits him. He’s gorgeous, you know? Everything I could want, and way more than I could ever wish for. It’s got to be him. His moles, his skin, his eyes. I remember them. I know them. I swear…I saw a picture of him and it was like coming home. I-…I've never felt like that before, well, not since my family passed anyway.”

All three of the betas look at Derek, identical looks of surprise on their faces, six eyebrows raised almost to hairlines. Isaac was scouring his mind and memories for a time he’d ever heard the Alpha speak so fervently about anything, anyone, before and coming up completely blank. It was almost unsettling in its intensity and Isaac felt himself hoping with everything he had that they’d be able to help him find Stiles. He’d been through so much in his life, losing the majority of his family in a fire, then losing his sister a few years after, and yet he still gave more of himself than anyone Isaac had ever met. He’d saved Isaac from his own terrible childhood home, saved Erica from her debilitating epilepsy by giving her the bite, and now here he was, once again having to go and save his own mate. He did everything he could to help others and Isaac believed that, should anyone here deserve any kind of luck or sliver of happiness, it was Derek.

Upon seeing their mirrored looks of shocked amusement, Derek feels his face heat up, his ears soon tingeing red to match.

Noticing his alpha’s embarrassment, Boyd is quick to release his hold on Erica and walk towards the bed, stopping in front of Derek before gripping his shoulder in a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“Sounds like a great guy, alpha. We’ll have to make sure to bring him home soon, then.”

Chapter Text

Hazel eyes gaze at him, a delighted shiver going through his body in response. Stiles feels his heart start to beat faster, a warm blush flushing his cheeks as a large, tanned hand reaches up to brush gently through his hair. He feels his body awaken further at the soft touch, his skin tingling in every spot those solid fingers touch. The skin around those deep hazel eyes crinkle as the man smiles at Stiles, causing his stomach to flutter.

Stiles wakes suddenly, his body seizing in confusion as the shackles holding him tightly to the bed restrict his movements. The pleasant dream he has woken from seeps from his mind as he shifts slightly trying to relieve the constant throb of his sore, bound wrists, his whole body aching from being in the same position for so long. He glances around the cold office for what feels like the thousandth time, searching for something, anything, that he might be able to use to escape the room, but once again comes up with nothing. All he can see from his place in the middle of the room, and only by holding his head at an unnatural angle, is an uncluttered desk and chair to his left, a doorway, which he knows to be heavily locked if the noise of several locks being shifted when he had been left alone earlier was anything to go by, and a filing cabinet to his right. The room has nothing in it, other than the cheap metal bed and mattress that he currently lies on, that would suggest it has been used for any other purpose in a good few years and the musky, damp smell that has taken up residence in Stiles’ nose attested to that.

Stiles feels his stomach clench and churn uneasily, a mixture of both intense hunger and anxiety causing it to protest loudly. After his visit with Peter, Stiles hasn't have anyone else enter the room and has no way of knowing how long he has been there. Stiles feel the rising sense of panic once again try to take over him as he thinks of his dad. Has he come home and found him missing yet? Has he called Scott, the school even, trying to find him? For all Stiles knows, he could've been lying here for days and a whole search party might be on the lookout for him. He hopes that’s the case, that maybe someone will come bursting through the door and save him before Peter can do anything to him, but he swiftly finds himself feeling guilty. His father must be worried sick about him. Must be thinking that he’s going to lose the only other living family he has left.

Just as his heart starts to beat erratically with his panic and the pungent sour scent of distressed Omega begins to saturate into the mattress around him, Stiles hears the multiple locks on the door click open loudly, before Peter waltz’s into the room, a small plate in his hand.

Stiles looks over the Alpha, once again dressed much too smart for the dingy room he is standing in and Stiles feels anger bubbling up within him.

“LET ME GO!” He almost screeches at the older man, thrashing wildly on the bed, the bindings digging sharply into the raw skin of his tender wrists. “GET ME OUT OF HERE! LET ME GO!”

“My, my, you are getting yourself worked up, aren't you little one?” Peter says as he drags the chair over to the side of Stiles’ resting place with his free hand, “No need to worry, I'm just here to give you some food, you must be hungry.”

“Food? Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles hisses, his legs still pulling against the chains. Stiles' scent sours further, heavy with fear and anger and frustration as the Alpha simply raises an eyebrow at him.

“Quite the performance,” Peter says lightly, placing the plate of food down near Stiles and taking off the foil protecting it, “But I would rather you calm down now, Omega.”

“FUCK YOU!” Stiles screams, his throat almost tearing with the force of the words being ripped through it, “YOU FUCKING BAS-AHH!”

Peter is in front of Stiles, hand tightly pressed to the Omega’s thin throat, before he even realises what’s happening. Stiles’ body instantly stills as the Alpha’s fingers tighten on the scent glands either side of his throat.

“That’s quite enough.” Peter grits out, his voice like acid as his eyes flash bright red. Stiles feels his own eyes flash their Omega gold in reply, and his whole body relaxes despite the internal screaming raging in his head. “I will not have you acting like a complete heathen in my presence, Omega. You. Will. Calm. Down.”

Peter squeezes his hands once more before taking in Stiles’ relaxed state and removing his hands, returning to his seat and straightening his shirt.

“I'm here to give you your meal.” He says as he once again looks at the plate of food, completely ignoring the bewildered look on the Omegas face. Stiles just looks at Peter, his body unable to do more after the harsh treatment from the Alpha. “I know you must be hungry, so I’d rather we get this done quickly.”

Before Stiles can even think of denying it, his stomach answers with a loud gurgle, and he feels his face heat slightly in embarrassment. Peter lets out a small chuckle when he hears the noise.

“That’s what I thought,” He says with a smug grin, looking over the small array of food on the plate.

“No,” Stiles says firmly once he regains his senses, turning his face away from the Alpha, the chains on his wrist rattling as he shifts, “I don’t want anything, not from you.”

“Hmm, now is not the time to be testing my patience, Omega,” Peter says, his voice hard as he continues, “You’ll be eating this meal whether you want to or not, and if I have to ram it down your throat to get it down you? Well, all the more fun for me.”

Stiles turns his head around sharply to look at Peter, “You can’t - I won’t let you!”

“Little one, there is very little you could do to stop me. If you won’t take the food, I’ll simply hook you up to an IV. I've already done it to you once and I'm more than willing to do it again, if needs be.”

“Wh-what?” Stiles says, his eyes wide, “Why? Why would I need that? W-when did you even have time to do that? How long have I even been here?”

“Well, let’s see, after my betas brought you here, you were unconscious for about a day-“

“A day?!” Stiles shouts, panic quickly washing over his body as he thinks of his father, he’d been gone a day at least, his dad must be going mad with worry-

“Yes, and you've been here now for almost another 24 hours so, obviously I've had to get food in you somehow, no Omega of mine is going to be a sickly little thing! I've got big plans for you and I need you fit and healthy to progress with them.” Peter continues, not noticing, or more likely not caring, about the obvious panic running through Stiles as he speaks. “Now, are you going to eat this food like a good boy, or am I going to have to resort to the drip? I'm being kind enough to offer you the choice now, don’t expect me to be so courteous again.”

Stiles shakes slightly as he looks down at the unassuming plate of food, simple bread and cheese. Nothing about it looks suspect, as far as Stiles can tell, and he’d much rather get it over and done with as quickly as possible, so he nods his head slowly, lifting his eyes enough to see a small smirk on Peter’s lips.

“Perfect,” Peter says as he picks up a small piece of cheese between two fingers and brings it up to Stiles’ lips.

“Can’t I…can I feed myself?” Stiles’ asks quietly, eyeing the food hovering in front of him. He’d willingly eat the food, but the thought of the Alpha hand feeding it to him makes him feel uneasy, the intimacy of the act wreaking havoc within him. This man, this Alpha, had taken Stiles, kidnapped him and held him hostage, but the Omega in Stiles is almost preening at the attention, the strong Alpha providing for him. He couldn't tell if the twisting of his stomach is from the hunger or from disgust at himself for entertaining the idea of liking being fed like this.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so. I believe this will be a brilliant chance for us to…get to know each other.” Peter says, lightly tracing the back of his free hand down the side of Stiles’ cheek, the Omega trembling slightly as the long, cold fingers brush over his bottom lip on the way down. “Now, open up little one.”

Stiles closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, steeling himself, before slowly opening his mouth and taking in the small piece of cheese, his lips catching Peters fingers slightly as he closes his mouth.

Peter’s gaze zeroes in on the Omega’s plush lips, his eyes intense as he watches Stiles chew and swallow the food. As soon as one bite is finished, Peter picks up another small piece of cheese and repeats, his eyes never leaving Stiles’ face as they slowly work through the plate.

“That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Peter says shortly after, as Stiles heavily swallows the last piece of bread, barely managing to get it down. “I expect the same when I come in to feed you in the morning. I won’t tolerate any misbehaving from you, am I clear?”

Stiles nods slowly, feeling more amenable now that his stomach is no longer clenching uncomfortably from hunger. Stiles’ hopes that with one less thing to worry about, he will be able to refocus himself on finding a way out. He’s gotten himself out of plenty of sticky situations before, there has to be something he can do to get out.

“Use your words, Omega.” Peter says sharply, his eyes going hard as he looks at the Omega.

Stiles stills, the strong scent of displeasure radiating off the Alpha causing a lump to quickly form in his throat. He feels himself react immediately, his head leaning to the side to display the long, creamy white length of his neck, barely managing to croak out a reply with the heavy pressure of the Alpha’s strong tone weighing down on him, “Yes, Alpha.”

Peter’s eyes glint, flashing red quickly before returning to their usual icy blue, as he leans over Stiles. He brings his hand up to Stiles’ face and lightly drags it down his cheek and neck, stopping once he reaches the large scent gland below his ear. Peter rubs it, leaning down to scent him deeply and Stiles feels his heart stutter and a shiver run over his body as a cold sweat quickly breaks out over him.

“Good boy,” Peter almost growls into Stiles ear, seemingly pleased with the reaction his scenting has caused. He takes another deep breath before retracting, straightening his shirt as he does so. “I’ll be back in the morning, Omega, do ensure that you behave while I'm gone. I can assure you, you will not like to consequences if you do not.”

“Yes Alpha,” Stiles manages to choke out again, his body still reeling from the intimate encounter he has just had with the Alpha, despite the sour tinge of displeasure having left the room as quickly as it came.

Seemingly satisfied with Stiles’ response, Peter lifts the plate from its place beside Stiles and swiftly leaves the room, locking the door once again on his exit.

As soon as the last lock is clicked closed, Stiles lets out a large breath he barely realises he has been holding. His whole body feels exhausted from the short visit with the Alpha and his lids grow heavy despite the million different thoughts fighting for attention in his head. He see’s flashes of icy blue eyes being replaced by deep, earthy hazel, feels his erratic heart beat slow, and before he realises it, he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Derek buckles himself into the driver’s seat of the car Boyd had the forethought to rent for the duration of their trip to Beacon Hills. He clenches the wheel before him tightly as he lets out a tired and frustrated sigh. From beside him, Isaac gently holds Derek’s arm in a reassuring grip.

“It’s gonna be alright Der, we’ll find him. I know we will.” Isaac says quietly.

Derek closes his eyes briefly, letting out another huff of breath as he forces himself to relax, the tight grip of the steering wheel releasing slightly as he exhales. He looks out at the parking lot before him, eyes unseeing as he thinks of what could possibly be happening to Stiles, his mate, whilst they are aimlessly searching for him.

“Three days, Isaac, he’s been gone for three days.” He manages to say, his own voice as quiet as Isaacs’ had been, as he turns to look at the Omega beside him, “And I've got no idea how to get him back and I feel like I'm letting him down, you know? Every hour, every minute he’s not found is another minute of me letting him down.”

“You need to calm down a bit, Der.” Isaac soothes, running his hand up Derek’s arm and back down again, “We've not done everything we can yet, have we? Let’s just get to the Sheriffs house and see what we can find. There’s no point getting yourself worked up about it when we've not done everything we can. We’ll find him, we can’t give up before we've even started, right? Otherwise we would be letting him down.”

Derek looks at Isaac, clenching his jaw and hands once before letting go of the steering wheel.

“Right, sorry. We’ll do this. We’ll find him and bring him home.” He says with renewed vigour.

“Hells yeah, we will!” Erica pipes in, leaning in between the two front seats from her place in the back of the car. “Then he’ll owe me for like, the rest of his life, for helping save his pretty little ass.”

Derek raises an unimpressed brow, pushing her back in her seat before heading off in the direction of the Stilinski household.

They arrive outside of the large family home in under ten minutes, all four of the car’s occupants eagerly jumping out and heading up the drive as soon as Derek unlocks the doors. The sheriff opens the front door just as Derek raises his hand to knock on it, obviously having watched their arrival from the living room window. Upon reaching the Sheriff, Isaac shudders, taking in the deep musky scent of bonfire that seems to cling to Sheriff, almost taking over his natural clean Beta scent. Puzzled, Isaac looks to his three pack mates, frowning when he notices that none of his companions seem to find anything wrong with the scents the Sheriff is letting off.

“Hale,” The Sheriff greets Derek as he exits the house, before turning to all four of them, “Thanks for coming round, all of you. I would invite you in, but I'm not sure that’s the best idea as the scents are strongest by the doorway. As I told you, Derek, the only person that’s been in the house since Scott came round is myself and a couple of my Beta colleagues, so it’s mostly untouched, but as it’s been a few days, it’s a lot fainter than is ideal so…”

“It’s not a problem,” Isaac says smoothly after almost visibly shaking himself out of the temporary stupor the Sheriffs scent forced him into, “It’s probably best if Derek goes in first to check out the scent, see if he can get a good reading on it, then the three of us can go afterwards, just to get a hint to help us track it. Derek’s our best bet, he’s got some crazy scenting skills-“

“Yeah, we’re not here to blow Derek’s trumpet, Isaac,” Erica butts in, stepping forward and outstretching a hand towards the Sheriff to introduce herself, “Hi, Sheriff. I'm Erica, this is Boyd, and that’s Isaac.” She says, waving a hand at her two fellow betas as she speaks.

“I'm John,” He replies, quickly shaking her hand before turning back to Derek, “Shall we get this over with then, Hale?”

Derek, seemingly ignoring the conversation around him, jolts slightly at his name, turning his gaze away from the doorway that seems almost saturated with Stiles’ light, fruity sweet scent. He nods, taking hold of the doorknob and swiftly letting himself into the house. His three betas and the Sheriff hang back, all four of them gazing at the Alphas’ back intently as he moves forward.

His senses are immediately assaulted and overwhelmed by scents, old and new. His body shudders as he drinks in the sweet toffee, spicy cinnamon and fresh apples that sing to his body in a never-ending chorus of matemineprotect. He feels his pupils dilate so fast his eyes almost ache with the change as his canines fight to come out and his nails lengthen.

“Are you alright?” Isaacs’s voice cut through his scent induced haze, and Derek hears him take a tentative step forward, “Do you need help-?”

No.” Derek almost growls out between his sharp teeth, voice commanding, “Stay back.”

Derek hears Isaac gulp loudly, the Alphas’ tone resonating deep within the Omega as he retreats back to his pack mates once again.

Derek moves forward slowly, gulping down long, deep breaths in a visible effort to calm himself down. His eyes roam the room, taking in the pictures lining the walls of a young and carefree boy with his parents. Derek feels his heart tug at the bright amber eyes that shine even through the dull surface of the pictures, the pale white skin such a contrast to the deep chocolate hair and beauty spots adorning the boys’ cheeks. He notices a young woman, so similar to Stiles, in many of the pictures, cuddling her son, eyes bright with laughter as she looks on at the two men joining her in the frames. Derek realises that she must be his mates’ mother, and swiftly looks around for any signs of her having been in the house but frowns when his quick visual search comes up blank. He moves further within the room, peering at each picture in turn, his stomach dropping slightly as he notices her stark absence in all the more recent pictures of her son and husband.

His lips sit in a grim line as he realises that she was no longer a part of Stiles’ life. Through death or divorce he couldn't be sure, but judging by the almost shrine like quality of the photos, he hazards a guess at the former, feeling his gut twist and clench as he thinks of how that must have affected Stiles’, how his mate has also lost someone close to him just as Derek has. Remembering the Sheriff, he shudders at the thought of the man losing two of the most important people in his life, his wife and now his son.

Shaking himself, Derek clenches his fists and grits his teeth to curb the sudden wash of anger he feels trying to take over him. With renewed vigour, he returns to the front door, locating Stiles’ school bag and crouches down low beside it.

He takes several large breaths, almost tasting Stiles’ pungent scent before he manages to catch a faint whiff of something darker. He moves in closer seeking the scent, and finally registers two very similar, Alpha scents. The sharp tang of metal, not that dissimilar to blood, cloys at his nose, causing him to wrinkle it in disgust. Definitely the scents of the two Alphas that had taken Stiles, Derek was willing to stake his life on it. He takes in several large gulps of the scents, taking note of the way they sit heavy on the back of his throat and nose, committing them to memory.

Once certain he’d be able to discern the two scents in a room full of Alphas, Derek hoists himself back up, straightening his shirt and jacket as he opens the door.

Upon noticing the door opening, four separate sets of eyes laser in on him. Erica moves forward quickly, taking Derek’s arm in her hand as she meets his eyes, hope clear in her expression.

“Did you…?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically quiet as she speaks.

“Yeah,” Derek says as he looks at his three betas and John, “I've definitely got something, right by Stiles’ bag, two separate scents, both clearly Alphas. I think I’ve got them. Once you three have it memorised, I want us all to look around the grounds, see if we can scent it anywhere…see if we can catch a trail.”

The three betas move swiftly past him to get in the house, each taking a turn to crouch down low and take in the Alpha scent.

As the betas get acquainted with the scents, Derek moves to the Sheriff, whose face seemingly can’t decide between extreme exhaustion and elation at Derek’s findings.

“We’ll get him, Sheriff.” Derek says firmly, surely.

“John,” The sheriff says, hint of a smile in his voice “My name’s John. If you really are my sons’, Stiles’, mate, I can’t have you calling me Sheriff all the time, Stiles will kill me.”

“Right.” Derek nods, before he hears his three betas clambering out of the door, each of them smiling.

“Got it! Right smelly bastards, aren't they?” Erica says as she reaches Derek’s side. “What’s the plan now, big guy? Spilt up and look for clues?”

“Now’s not the time for joking, Erica,” Isaac mumbles as he comes up to stand beside her, turning to Derek.

“Everyone, go round the house, check everywhere, bushes, trees, windows, doorways. I want to know if there are any other traces of the scent. We might be able to track them if we do.”

The three betas nod, splitting up and walking in opposite directions over the garden. It takes several minutes, before Derek hears Boyd shouting from some bushes not too far from the house.

Everyone scrambles to Boyd, the Sheriff hot on Derek’s heels as the stop before the Beta.

“It’s heavy here, both scents. It seems like they spent quite a lot of time here. The scents are both old and new, so I’d say they’d been doing it for quite a while, a few weeks at the least. I've checked as well, there are two different trails leading away from the house from here too. Both of them are strong enough to follow.”

John lets out a colourful string of swear words once Boyd finishes talking, causing all four werewolves to jump at the high volume of his voice.

“They-they've been looking at my son, watching him, for weeks and I never even noticed? I may be a Beta, but Jesus Christ. I should have noticed something!” He brings his hands roughly through his hair, wincing before looking at the house and paling slightly, pointing up towards the second storey, “The fuckers. Look, his window. They've got a perfect view right into Stiles’ bedroom from here. Bastards. I’ll kill them. I’ll fuckin-“

“John! John, calm down.” Derek says, his hand gripping the Sheriff’s arm tightly as he tries to rein in his own anger at knowing his mate had been watched, stalked, for god knows how long, completely unaware of the danger he was in. “This is good, we can…we can see where their scent trails lead, we can follow it. We’ll do it. We’ll find him.”

John calms slightly, looking over the four young faces watching him with determination in their gazes, each of the betas nodding their agreement to their alpha.

“Right, we’re splitting up. Erica, Boyd, you follow the left hand trail, see how far it goes. Howl if you see anything. Isaac and I will take the other trail, and we’ll do the same if we find anything. John, it’ll be best if you stay here. We’ll convene back here at sundown if we don’t find anything, that’ll give us a fair few hours of looking. Ok?” He says with authority, looking each beta in eye as he doles out his instructions.

Each of them nod their assent before splitting off. Erica and Boyd make quick work of following their trail and after only a few minutes are completely out of sight, following the scent marks deep into the woods surrounding the Stilinski household.

“I’ll stay here and call for backup if you manage to find anything. Make sure you call me as soon as you do.” John says as Derek and Isaac move to follow their own designated path.

“Yeah, we will, don’t worry.” Derek replies with a quick nod of his head.

The sheriff huffs out a laugh as he walks back towards the house, “I've done nothing but worry about that boy since the day he was born. I don’t know how to do anything but.”

Chapter Text

Derek and Isaac follow the scent trail for miles, all the way into the heart of Beacon Hills, before losing it in the heavy cloud of the Alphas, Betas and Omegas of the town. Frustrated, Derek gets his phone out, calling the Sheriff to let him know that they’d lost the trail, before turning around and returning to his house.

“It’s alright Derek,” Isaac says as they trek through the woodland, following the Alphas scent back to the Sheriffs house to check that they hadn't missed any other trails leading off from it, “We've not heard back from Erica and Boyd yet, which can only be a good thing. Means they haven’t reached the end of the path yet, that’s promising.”

“Mm, I guess so. It’s just, I feel useless.” Derek replies, having to force himself not to let his mind wander, not to let himself think of his mate. He’d give anything, his whole world, just to make sure that Stiles came home safe. Safe and alive. He’d spend the rest of his life ensuring that he was happy. His omega would want for nothing, that much he was sure. For minutes on end he’d be caught up in fantasies, everything they could do together, everything they could see. Lazy days together, with his pack and his mate. He’d feel his whole body warming, almost bursting with happiness, until the reality of the situation grips him hard and yanks him back. “I just want him back. If not for me, then for his father.”
Isaac hummed in agreement, opening his mouth to speak before being cut off by a howl.

The pair of weres hear the clear howl of their fellow packmates when they are only a couple of miles from the Sheriffs house, and bustle to quickly shift and follow the sound.
Derek feels his heart beating overtime in his chest as he and Isaac weave through the heavy foliage, broken branches and trees of the thick woodlands, his whole body pushing itself almost to its limit to reach his betas.

He hears them howl again, closer, much closer, and feels a full body shiver wrack his frame. The sound of it piercing straight to his heart, forcing it to clench uneasily.
The howl, full of pain, sorrow and despair frightens Derek. His legs almost going from beneath him as he pushes himself, further, harder, faster. Isaac whines behind him, barely able to keep up to Derek’s fast pace with his smaller, Omega frame, but Derek keeps thundering ahead, desperate to find out what his betas had found, what could possibly cause them to make such a harrowing sound to call their alpha to them.

They are barely a mile out when Derek finally starts to notice where they are heading and the shakes and shivers running riot throughout his body only increase with the knowledge.

Home. Pack.

He recognises the faint scents drifting towards them, the ash, the smoke, the weather-beaten, fire damaged wood. He feels bile rise in his throat, smells his own scent souring, barely able to hear the low whine leaving his beta’s throat as his senses dull in shock. His eyesight darkens, his ears ringing loudly in his head and he barely manages to keep going. He stumbles, tumbles, and drags himself closer to Erica and Boyd.

Why? Why home? Why now?

He hasn't been home. Not since the fire. Not since he lost everything. He never wanted to come here again. Left Beacon Hills purely to get rid of the terrifying memories this house left him with. Images flash past his mind’s eye, flitting away as fast as they come. His mother, dead. His father, dead. Aunts, uncles, cousins, dead, dead, dead. Burnt, all of them. Barely recognisable. Their scents burnt away by the fire and the flames, the smoke and the ash.

Why had the Alphas been here? Why were their scents mixing with the scents of his family? His home?

He comes to an abrupt stop a few yards away from the burnt out wreckage that he used to call home. His eyes scanning over the dilapidated ruins, searching for something, Derek doesn't know what, but searching nonetheless.

He can feel his chest heaving, in, out, in, out, as his head whips this way and that, looking for a threat, looking for his mate. For anything. He can hear a low whine and it takes him several minutes to realise it’s coming from his own throat.

He feels soft fur, cold noses, pressing and pushing against his flank. Feels his packmates low, rumbling growls trying desperately to sooth their alpha. It works, marginally. Enough to pull him from the downward spiralling of his thoughts and memories. With effort, he manages to shift back to his human form, finally giving in to the nausea and swiftly throwing up.

Returning to their own human forms, Erica, Isaac and Boyd grimace in unison as the Alpha wretches up bile, hunched over as he gasps.

Isaac inches closer, wary of Derek, feeling his despair clearly through their bond and not wanting to make it worse. Derek barely seems to notice as he finally straightens up, wiping the back of his hand roughly across his mouth.

“Erica, explain.” He manages to spit out, angry, defensive, scared.

“We followed it, straight from the Stilinskis’. We didn't even realise where it was leading us until we were pretty much here. We've searched inside, there’s no one there now. However, it’s pretty obvious that they have been using it as a base of sorts, there are drinks cans and food wrappers littered everywhere, whole place stinks of the two Alphas.” She says, coming closer to Derek and standing by his side, facing the house but looking at her alpha out of the corner of her eyes.
Boyd moves to join her, worry etched on his face as he clears his throat.

“There’s another scent. I don’t recognise it, exactly, but it’s familiar.”

“What do you mean, you don’t recognise it exactly?” Derek asks, looking over at the Beta with confusion written over his face, “How is it familiar?”

“It…it kind of smells like you.” Boyd says, mirroring the confusion on his alphas face as he continues, “It’s like you, but not. Like family, I guess. And at first, we thought maybe it was just residual, from when you used to live here, but it’s not. It’s fresh. Just as fresh as the other Alphas.”

Derek’s heart beats its way up to his throat and he feels himself almost choke on it. Air leaving him quickly. Family? Fresh? Here? How?
He walks towards the house quickly, wrenching open the door, almost pulling it off its creaky hinges, inhaling as deeply as he can, ignoring the lingering stench of his sick and bile as much as he is able.

It hits him hard and tears cloud his eyes, his vision going blurry as he takes it in, floats in it, drowns in it. The rich heady scent that he was so familiar with in his youth. A scent he’d spent many days around. It was always one of comfort when he had been younger. Its owner being one of his family that Derek had been most close with. His confidant, teacher, one of his closest friends.

Peter?” He whispers in disbelief, barely noticing Isaac and the Betas coming into the house to stand around him. “But, how? How is that even possible?”

“I thought he was in care,” Isaac says, confused. “I didn't think he would ever get better? They said he wouldn't.”

“I know…I-I don’t understand.” Derek replies, his voice one of awe, “He’s better. He must be. His scent…it’s so…so strong. It’s not been like this since, well since before the fire. Whenever I visited him after, he always smelt like death, so dull. I don’t understand.”

“Derek…” Boyd cuts in, his own voice wary as he speaks, “Do you think, I mean, It’s possible, that maybe they targeted Peter too? They have Stiles, and now they have the one remaining member of your family? It can’t be coincidence.”

Derek’s heart swiftly shifts to the pit of his stomach. His elation at the thought of his uncle, alive and well, going as quickly as it came.

How could he be so stupid? Why wasn't that the first thought running through his mind?

“No..!” He gasps out, his stomach desperately trying to force itself up and out of his mouth as he falls to his knees. “He can’t. How? They can’t. Not Peter. Not Peter too.”

All three of his packmates crowd him, touching him, scent marking him, comfort and love and protection clear in their movements. He takes several large gulps of air, almost choking on the ash and soot they had managed to displace in going inside the house, as he tries to calm himself. Think rationally.

“The care home,” He remembers as his mind clears, his despair being tightly locked away with his fear for Stiles. He’ll let them out later, when he has a plan. When he’s alone to wallow in his grief. Not now. He has to do something, fix this, can't waste time. “I'm the emergency contact. If anyone had gone there and taken him, they’d have called me. I’d know. We just need to call them, they’ll be able to tell us more, I'm sure of it.”

His betas murmur in agreement, barely letting up with their comforting touches as he speaks, until Derek shifts slightly, getting back up and dragging his packmates with him.

“Come on, we need to get back to the Sheriff, let him know what we found out.” Derek says as he makes his way towards the front door, barely sparing a glance at his old home. Not wanting to dwell on the pain that being back brought to him.

“At least we know this wasn't an Omega attack,” Isaac says as the four of them make their way back to the Stilinski property, “If they took Peter too. He’s an Alpha right? They wouldn't need to take an Alpha if they were just going to sell Stiles.”

“That’s awesome, right?” Erica asks, looking between Isaac and Derek, “The police department might be able to check with the care home too, see if Peter had any strange visitors or something?”

“It’s a step in the right direction, in some respects,” Boyd agrees, taking hold of Erica’s hand as they walk.

The four werewolves make it to the Sheriffs in good time, the sun just starting to set as John lets them into the house and steers them towards the kitchen. Derek can barely concentrate with the strong assault of Stiles' scent hitting him repeatedly. He can barely stand it. Wants to get lost in it. Wants to wrap himself up tight in it and never surface again.

The Sheriff clears his throat loudly, pulling Derek from his meandering thoughts with a raised eyebrow, though the worry is clear in his eyes.

"So...did you find anything? Anything at all?" He asks, so hopeful it almost breaks Derek's heart. Stabs it at least, and he feels his stomach clenching as he looks at the older man.

"We followed the scents. Isaac and I ended up in town, but lost it in all the other scents around. We were making our way back to the house when we heard Erica and Boyd." He takes a deep breath, bringing his hands up and onto the table in front of him, clenching them tightly together as he continues, "They'd traced it back to the old Hale house. It's strong there, both of the scents. It's obvious that they were using it as a base of sorts. The scents are most fresh there, but still at least a couple of days old. I don't believe they've been back to the house since taking Stiles."

The sheriff seems conflicted, unsure as to whether it's good news or not, but is interrupted before he even speaks as Derek continues talking again.

"We also picked up another scent. My uncle. Peter Hale."

"Peter?" John asks, his brows furrowing, "He's in care isn't he?"

"We thought so, and no one has been in contact with me to say otherwise," Derek replies, "We're going to give them a call first thing in the morning, see if they can tell us when Peter was released, check if he had any strange visitors while he was still in there. There must be something they can tell us. Anything could be a major clue."

"Right," John agrees, nodding, "Right, this is good. This is something to go on. I'll get in contact with my team at the station, get them up to date with things. I'll get a team up to the Hale property too, see if they can find anything. Might be able to get some DNA from the Alphas up there if they'd been there for any length of time."

The Sheriff gets up, moving towards his phone, obviously glad to finally have something more look into.

The four werewolves take this as their leave, waving goodbye to the Sheriff with promises of returning first thing in the morning to reconvene and get in contact with the care home.

When they finally arrive back at the hotel room, all four of them are flagging. Tired from the hunting, the emotions that ran so close to the surface all day, they all undress and pile onto one of the double beds in the room, hands and feet, legs and arms everywhere. They all drift off to sleep quickly, taking comfort from their packmates close proximity, Derek managing to stave off the rising sense of dread that had been curling up inside him since he'd arrived at his old home hours before.

Chapter Text

Derek wakes, confused, with a foot in his face and an elbow stabbing into his back. He blinks lazily, coming to his senses slowly as he takes in the warm heat radiating from his three betas. He forgets. For the longest moment he forgets that his mate has been kidnapped and his uncle might be in danger. Forgets that he’s back home, the one place he said he never wanted to return to. Forgets that his heart’s breaking into a thousand pieces as he lies on his back with the early morning sun creeping in through the open window.

Until he remembers.

It comes crashing over him in a tsunami of pain and fear and overwhelming anger. His breathing hitches as he gasps in a large breath, his hands clenching at his sides as his scent sours, destroying the warmsafepack smell his betas and replacing it with the vile stench of acrid smoke.

The Omega curled up at Derek’s waist reacts immediately, whining low in his throat as he breathes in his alpha’s pungent worry, burrowing closer to him to try to relieve the pain. Isaac is barely awake, his instincts taking over before he is even fully conscious, his arms coming up and around Derek’s middle to pull him closer, to squeeze away the bad thoughts. It doesn't work, of course it doesn't. Derek’s mind is running through a thousand different scenarios, each one worse than the last, of an unknown pair of Alphas, touching, hurting, using his Omega. Torturing his uncle, forcing screams out of the older male. Derek knows the screams in his head aren't real, but they could be, and that’s what causes his body to shudder violently, forcing the two Betas beside him to jolt awake and crowd over him, joining Isaac in his efforts to soothe the agitated Alpha.

“Derek! Der, please, calm down,” Isaac begs, his face pressed hard against the sweat slicked skin of Derek’s stomach, “It’s ok, it’s alright. We’re fixing this. We’ll get them back.”

The pleading voice registers, somewhere seemingly far away to Derek and brings him back to the surface gradually. His rapid pulse slows as the betas continue their ministrations, and he shakes his head as if to flick away the lingering images from it. He closes his eyes briefly, blinking away the encroaching darkness that sits at the edges of his vision as he goes to sit up, his betas all moving with him as he does so.

“We’re here, Derek.” Erica says from her spot behind him, her arms wrapped around his chest in a firm grip. “We’ll always be here.”

“We’re pack,” Boyd speaks up from next to Erica, his own hands a comforting weight on Derek’s shoulder, his voice a deep rumble in Derek’s ear, “And pack sticks together.”

Derek feels the arms around his waist tighten as he hums in appreciation at their words and comfort and looks down to see Isaac’s curly haired head in his lap, his bright eyes looking up at him with worry. Derek can tell the young Omega is trying to release soothing scents to his alpha, but Derek can still smell the slight tinge of apprehension souring the scent around the edges. He runs his hand through the blond curls lightly, the deep wrinkles around his eyes smoothing out slightly as he sends the Omega a small smile.

“Thanks guys,” He says quietly, breathing out heavily and finally succeeding in pushing away the negative thoughts. He basks in their comfort and compassion for several minutes, watching the suns steady climb up the wall facing the window as he sets out a plan in his head.

The first thing he knew they had to do is get to the care home that housed his uncle. They’d know, they should have CCTV and visitor logs, scents in his uncle’s room, anything that may be able to lead them to the Alpha’s. By now, the Sheriff is sure to have gotten hold of his department, a few deputies will definitely come in handy if the nurses are reluctant to release any information, not that they should be, Derek being the emergency contact should give him full reign where his uncle is concerned, but he knows it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Derek manages to extract himself from the tight grips of the three octopi clutching onto him before making his way to the bathroom to get himself ready, in desperate need of a brisk cold shower to wake him up properly in preparation for the day.

“Get yourselves ready, order some food, I'm going to get in contact with the Sheriff as soon as I'm out so that we can get to the care home when it opens.” Derek calls over his shoulder as he walks into their bathroom, hearing his three betas groan slightly as they get up.

Derek is out of the shower after only a few minutes, hair clinging to his forehead as rivets of water make their way down his face and onto his chest before soaking into the denim of his jeans. He takes his phone off the bedside table, seeing several messages from the Sheriff information him of their plans for the morning, and is happy to see that the older man had had the same idea as him, stating he’ll meet the pack at care facility at 9 sharp, ready for the morning visiting hours.

Derek feels his stomach knotting slightly, excitement and apprehensive fighting against each other within in, making it hard for him to manage a couple of slices of toast from the large mound of food his pack had ordered for their breakfast. His three betas don’t seem to have the same problem, shovelling the food in as fast as they can swallow so that they can head out and start their day quickly.

After only half an hour, the four packmates strap themselves into their hire car and make their way towards the outskirts of town, parking quickly and exiting the car as soon as they arrive at their destination.

Derek spots the Sheriff, along with the Alpha he met at the police department two days prior, and makes his way towards them, nodding in greeting to both men when he stops before them. He does makes introductions between his pack and the deputy, noticing Isaac shudder heavily as he stands beside the Sheriff, but puts it to the back of his mind as they start to move away.

“Let me do the talking, Hale.” John says as they walk towards the entrance, “I don’t like that they've not been in contact with you regarding your Uncle. If you really did catch his scent yesterday, that mean’s he got out of here somehow and you should’ve been the first person they got in contact with when that happened. Something's going on, it’s not adding up.”

Derek nods, opening the door and letting the large group inside as he brings up the rear.

A young woman, Beta by her nondescript, clean scent, greets them as they walk up to the reception desk, raising her eyebrows as she notices the two members of the police department amongst the visitors.

“Sheriff? What can I help you with today sir?” She asks as they crowd around her post.

“Good morning, we’re here in connection to missing person’s report.” The Sheriff replies, the dark bags under his eyes and pale skin speaking volumes of the stress the last few days have caused him, “We believe that one of your patients may have some information and we’d like to speak with him.”

The nurse’s eyes widen as she listens to the Sheriff, her face quickly turning to one of confusion as she processes what he says.

“One of our patients can help? I'm not sure why you’d think so, Sheriff. All of our patients here are on permanent lock-down, no one enters or leaves without us knowing about it.” She says, her facing twisting slightly in confusion, “Can I ask which patient? I’ll have to speak with one of the managers before I let you speak with them, obviously, as we’d need the permission of the next of kin.“

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek says as he steps forward, the nurses eyes darting to him as he does so, “I'm the next of kin, it’s my uncle we need to speak with, Peter Hale.”

“Hale?” She asks, her brows furrowing slightly as she turns to her computer, mumbling to herself quietly, “Hale, Hale. Not a name I recognise…let me just check here…”

She types away quickly, before looking up at Derek, shaking her head slightly.

“I'm sorry Sir, we've got no records of a Mr Hale ever having stayed here.” She says, causing all six of visitors to frown and crowd closer.

“How is that possible?” Derek asks, leaning onto the hard wood of the reception desk as he tries to glance at the screen, “I know he was here. He’s got to be! He’s been here for going on six years!”

“I'm afraid not, there’s nothing - no notes, no mention of him in any of our logs.” She says earnestly, indicating the error message displayed on the screen to all of them, “Are you positive he’s staying here? He may be at a neighbouring facility perhaps?”

“That’s…it can’t be. I've visited him here. Been in his room and everything, I'm paying for his care for Christ’s sake!” He exclaims, frustration and confusion souring his scent.

“Derek, calm down.” John says, putting a hand on Derek's shoulder and pulling him away from the desk before taking his place and speaking with the receptionist, “Is it possible to speak with a manager? There seems to be a bit of a mix up, I believe.”

The receptionist nods quickly, eyes darting to Derek warily as she steps back and goes into an office just behind her desk area. She returns a few moments later with an older woman, explaining the situation as they walk to the desk.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” The Manager says as she looks at all six of the visitors, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Peter Hale. Do you know him?” Derek interrupts before John can get a word in, stalking forward again to stand directly in front of her. “He went into a coma after a house fire, and has been here since. I'm sure of it.”

“Look, Mr…Hale, I presume?” She says, obviously irritated by Derek’s interrogation, “Stacy here has said she checked the system and no “Peter Hales” turned up. It’s not a name I'm familiar with and I've worked here for going on 25 years now. Trust me, when I say here’s not here. He’s not here. I'm sorry, but I don’t really know what more I can say to convince you.”

“I apologise for wasting your time,” John says, casting a quick cautionary glance at Derek to silence him before he can think of interrupting again, then turning back to the Manager, “It seems like Derek here made a bit of a mistake. Thank you for your help.”

He ushers the team out before anyone else can speak, stopping just as they get out of the entrance when Derek crowds him, obviously angry as his canines shoot out and claws pop.

“What the hell was that?” Derek spits out around his lengthened teeth, “I know he stayed here! I've still got all of the paperwork back home. I know I'm not making it up!”

“I know! I know that Derek, I believe you, son.” The Sheriff says, his hands coming up in a sign of submission, “Something's going on here and I think we need to get back to mine and think about this. There’s no point rushing in there and accusing them of lying when we saw it ourselves, they don’t have any records of him. We just need to find out why.”

Derek breathes heavily, taking in the calming scents his betas are sending his way to placate him. He manages to retract his teeth and claws with effort, before huffing loudly, his shoulders slumping almost in defeat.

“Sorry, sir.” He mumbles quietly, “I just, I don’t understand. What the hell is happening around here?”

“I don’t know why. But I know they’re connected, Stiles kidnapping, your uncles disappearance. It’s not just a weird coincidence. We just need to sit down and group together what we know. We might be missing something completely obvious whilst we’re so busy getting worked up about everything.” The Sheriff says, bringing a hand up to Derek’s shoulder and squeezing it with tight reassurance, “We’ll get them back. Both of them. I won’t stop looking.”

Derek finally calms down completely, and they all agree to reconvene at the Sheriffs house to look over what they now know, and possible reasons for both Stiles and Peter’s disappearances.

Derek, Isaac, Erica and Boyd all get into their car, silent as they all mull over the confusing, and worrisome, turn of events. Having calmed down properly and thought it through, Derek has a few ideas as to why the management would have no recollection of his Uncle, or rather how they don’t, and the records on file would be easy enough to delete or destroy, he just can’t understand the motive behind it all. Why would someone want an almost comatose Alpha? Unable to even feed himself, let alone walk or talk or communicate in any way. It doesn't make sense.

They follow closely behind the police cruiser, making the short journey to the Sheriffs house in only a few minutes and all exit the car near soundlessly, piecing together their jumbled thoughts as they go.

Derek stops just short of the entrance to the kitchen when he hears Isaac let out a high pitched whine, his honey-sweet scent shooting out in waves as he almost falls to the floor just inside the door. He rushes over to the Omega, kneeling down and frantically grasping at his shoulder, pulling Isaac’s face up to meet his gaze,

“Isaac! Isaac? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He asks quickly, the sickly scent coming from the Omega setting his nerves on edge, the hairs on his arms rising as it washes over him.

Isaac looks at Derek, his eyes almost glazed over before he visibly shakes himself, gulping loudly as he calms down.

“S-sorry! Jesus, I'm sorry Derek. Don’t know what came over me,” He says, his heartbeat clearly signalling the lie as Isaac diverts his eyes away from Derek’s own, “it…it must be my heat or something, the stress of being here must have brought it on early.”

Derek looks at Isaac intently, his gaze critical as his brows furrow slightly, unsure as to why Isaac would lie to him.

“Isaac, what aren't you telling me?” He asks quietly, conscious of the audience of weres and non-weres alike that had swiftly returned to the hallway as they heard the commotion, all of them closely surrounding the Alpha and Omega.

“Please Derek,” Isaac replies in a low tone, “Just trust me for the time being, ok? It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

Raising a brow slightly, Derek thinks on it, before nodding, trusting in his beta to tell him the truth at some point. Unwilling to let himself be completely distracted from the several pressing issues already at hand, but worried nonetheless.

“Right, ok Isaac. If you’re sure…?”

“I am,” Isaac says, nodding as he picks himself up from the wooden floor, brushing his knees off slightly as he straightens himself up, “Come on, let’s get inside, we've got a lot to discuss already today.”

Chapter Text

“I come bearing good news, Omega!” Peter says as he takes up his usual post on the chair beside Stiles, a plate of bread and cheese once again being placed on the edge of the bed.

Stiles slowly cocks his head slightly in Peter’s direction with great effort, one of his eyebrows slightly raised as Peter speaks. He’s learnt by now that any good news in Peter’s opinion is sure to be bad for him, and whoever this Derek guy is that he keeps harping on about.

“I doubt that.” Stiles manages to croak out, his throat clicking audibly as he swallows. His voice is rusty from disuse all day, having not had any visitors since Peter’s morning visit with his breakfast what must have been at least 9 hours ago, other than the occasional toilet break the two Alpha twins come in to assist him with.

“Less of the narky attitude, Omega,” Peter says with clear amusement, but Stiles ignores him, turning his head to once again gaze up at the ceiling, his whole body exhausted beyond belief for saying that all he’s done for the last couple of days (weeks? It feels like weeks) is lie on a bed in complete silence but for a couple of hours. It should be concerning, the complete and utter lack of energy, so unlike his usual ADHD driven hyperactivity, but he’s finding it hard to really care. Every time he feels the beginning tendrils of panic snaking their way through him it’s immediately washed away by a calming wave, forcing him to forget what the problem is in the first place. He can’t remember getting properly agitated or scared or, hell, even embarrassed over his constant naked state, anything, since his first conscious day in the drab office he has been confined to since. He has several theories why this might be happening; the touch starvation other than Peter’s coarse fingers, the lack of any scents other than his own sickly-sweet and Peter’s richly acidic red-wine scent, the complete isolation but for the few hours a day he spends with the older man and the twins. Everything that can, and does, damage a newly presented Omega and can cause it to basically go into lock-down, a self-preserving hibernation. He’s heard of it happening to Omegas before, on the news and from his dad, but instead of getting angry, frustrated, scared even, he feels nothing. He really should be worrying about it, he muses to himself, he’s been an Omega less than a month and he’s already damaging his body, his very instincts, but it floats away from his thoughts before he’s even fully grasped at it.

“It appears that my dear nephew has finally arrived in Beacon Hills, little one,” Peter says from beside him, pulling Stiles from his wandering thoughts, “He’s not doing too well finding us, he seems to be going on a little goose chase around the whole of the town with a few of his friends so I might have to give him a little bit of help, but it’s definitely a step in the right direction. Time for us to start getting ready, I think.”

“Getting ready?” Stiles asks, his eyes flicking to Peter before returning to the interesting spots of mould adorning the ceiling.

Peter shifts slightly, bringing a piece of cheddar up to Stiles lips, who opens his mouth and accepts it without any argument, causing Peters eyes to glint with the hint of a smug satisfaction as he swallows it down.

“Mmm,” Peter hums as he brings another piece of food up to the Omega’s willing lips, “Lots to do, and so little time to do it, though we seem to have made a lot of progress already, with how greedily you seem to be eating all this food.”

Stiles’ brow raises fractionally, quizzically, as he looks down at the plate, confusion flashing over his face as he takes in the thoroughly plain and seemingly harmless pile of food.

“What?” He asks quietly, his eyes looking up to Peter’s icy blue, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you just seem so very docile, don’t you little one? Don’t appear to be putting up much of a fight…don’t appear to be doing much at all, actually. Little strange for such a spirited young thing, don’t you think?” Peter replies with a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

Stiles feels his insides turn to ice, his head shaking from side to side slightly as he looks at the Alpha before him.

“What…what have you done?” Stiles says with more feeling than he has done since being brought to the cold office, his mind running through a thousand different scenarios, a thousand different things the Alpha could have done, “What have you done to me?”

“You didn't really think I’d just leave you tied up to a bed, giving you ample time to sit and stew and concoct silly little schemes, did you?” The Alpha muses, his own brow raising as he looks down at the increasingly distressed Omega, “I know how much trouble you can get yourself into, little one, I've been watching you for a very long time. No. I knew you’d figure a way out if I left you to your own devices, so, well I've just been popping a very handy little…relaxant? Should we say? Into your food. And it’s obviously worked like a charm! It’s gotten you eating out of my fingers, much more amenable, wouldn't you agree?”

He brings his right hand up to Stiles’ face, lightly stroking down his cheek, skimming his plush bottom lip causing a shudder to erupt over Stiles’ naked flesh before he bends, leaning close to the Omega, the dark tones of his scent spiking with hints of pleasure as he whispers into Stiles’ ear, blowing warm moist air over his lobe, “And it’s only going to get better."

Stiles feels his whole body shake, desperately trying to fight against the calming presence of what he now knows to be the drug, to grab and grasp and keep hold of some of the anger, fear, anything, but the blank nothingness that seems to blanket him so heavily.

Peter watches with amusement, seeing the slight sheen of sweat break out upon the creamy white skin, the rose-blushed nipples standing to attention as the Omega thrashes weakly on the bed.

“Now, now,” He says, sweeping his fingers with a feather light touch up the mole dotted expanse of skin before him, “It really won’t do you any favours trying to fight it, little one. Just let it happen. You don’t need thoughts or feelings or any such nonsense. Soon, all you’ll need is me.”

“No! No, please,” Stile’s gasps, desperately shifting his body away from the long fingers dragging across his chest. They feel like knives, he imagines the nails cutting and slicing against the paper-thin skin, they’ll cut right through him if he lets them and the touch feels wrong. Stiles can feel his deeply buried instincts rear their head from within him, pushing past the drug-hazed wall. He can feel the confusion disgustdelightfearwanting of having an Alpha, but not his Alpha touching him so intimately. Peter had seemingly restricted his touching the previous days, sticking to his face, his neck. That hadn't been as bad - closer than Stiles had been to another person besides friends and family, but not invasive, not personal. But this, this unabashed groping of the large hand, over his chest, his stomach, reaching as low as the top of the thighs, it’s too much, too close. Wrongwrongwrong.

“Interesting, so very interesting.” Peter murmurs, looking over the boy, “Seems like you can manage to fight against the drugs when I push you hard enough."

Stiles hears Peter chuckle, a deep rumble from his chest as he continues his ministrations and the noise sets Stiles on edge, his already frazzled nerves igniting at the sound. He directs his ambers eyes to the icy blue of the Alpha’s, and feels slight tears building at the edges of his vision. His breathing quickens, his pulse soaring as his heart pounds against his chest. It feels as if it’ll beat right out of his chest, push its way past the ribs and skin encasing it inside him.

“Calm down, Omega.” Peter says as his fingers catch and tug against the pebbled nipples, causing a pained moan to escape the Omega’s spit-slicked lips. His smile broadens at the reaction, and he speaks almost in awe, “My, what a responsive little thing you are. Delightful.”

Stiles ignores the Alpha, barely hearing him over the confused and disgusted thoughts tumbling through his mind, the insistent tugging at his chest pulling at something deep in his groin as his body heats up in response.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Peter coos at him, bending over his face slightly to lock eyes, “We won’t go far today, we've got time. This is only the beginning and I’ll make short work of it yet.”

“Please don’t, I…I-I can’t, I can’t.” Stiles gasps, his head shaking from side to side as he continues trying to get away, the shackles confining him biting sharply at his wrists and ankles, the cold metal soon heating up as his body does.

“Oh, but you can, and you will. Your body, it recognises an alpha. I might not be the one your body is craving, but we’ll teach it. You’ll be begging for it, for me, before you even know it.”

“Please! Please don’t. Peter!”

The slap shocks his system, his breathing ceasing for a quick moment as his eyes snap to Peter’s.

Alpha.” The older male growls out, his eyes flashing red as he grips the back of the Omega’s neck, hand nestled tightly between Stiles and the mattress below faster than Stiles can even comprehend. Stiles feels tiny pinpricks in the soft skin of his neck, feels the warmth of blood suddenly blooming, and he shivers violently knowing that the Alpha werewolf had lost control, “You will call me Alpha.”

Stiles eyes flash back in quick submission to the wolf, reluctant to do anything that could cause him to go completely off the rails. Self-preservation telling him to submit to the stronger male, as a tear rolls away from his lashes, streaking down and mixing with the sweat soaked hair beyond his temple.

“Sorry! I'm sorry. Alpha please.”

“Mm, still a bit of work to go, I see. But no bother I suppose. It’d be a shame if you were too good, I’d never get the chance to punish you, and I do enjoy a good spanking.” Peter says quietly as he calms himself, retracting his claws, the stinging in Stiles neck receding to be replaced by a dull thudding ache.

The shock of the slap has helped to calm Stiles down too, his heartbeat, though faster than usual, is no longer verging on panic-attack levels, but his whole body still feels hyped up, his nerves on edge at the still-close proximity of the Alpha.

“Please Alpha,” He begs, his legs and arms shaking from the exhausting struggles of moments ago, “Please don’t do this to me.”

“Omega, I'm getting a little bit tired of your constant whining.” Peter drawls as he leans back in his chair, looking over the shivering boy before him, “I've got a rather large collection of toys perfect for keeping a noisy little thing like you quiet and I'm rather looking forward to using them, but I can guarantee that you won’t, so how about closing that pretty little mouth and shutting up?”

Stiles’ teeth clamp shut with an audible click at the Alpha tone seeping through Peter’s words, and he feels his chest constrict tightly, a small whine leaving him before he can even think to stop it.

“Much better,” Peter says as he goes to stand up. “I know this is a lot to take in, Omega, but trust me on this. This is happening one way or another, and the more willing you are to co-operate, the easier time you’re going to have of it. I’d rather not have to resort to upping the dose of your pills, they do tend to leave Omega’s a little worse for wear in high concentrations. The end result is rather like a lobotomy if I'm completely honest, and that just doesn't seem like too much fun to me.”

“Don’t make me have to do that to you, little one.” He says, turning his back on the shell-shocked and terrified Omega and swiftly exiting the room, the plate of drug-riddled food still lying, mockingly next to Stiles.

Chapter Text

Derek wakes early on Saturday morning to the insistent buzzing and obnoxiously loud ringing of his phone, the vibrations wreaking havoc with the headache already pounding against the back of his eyes.

He fumbles around trying to locate it, his hand hitting several items on the bedside table before he realises that it isn’t there.

“Jesus, Derek. Will you hurry up and answer the god damned phone?” Erica grumbles from her spot directly behind him, “You’re making the whole bed bounce, which at any other time I would make copious amounts of jokes about, but it’s too early.”

“I’m trying! I can’t find it,” He grumbles, forcing himself to get up and look around for the offending item. He finally sees it on the small dining table in the corner of the room, and hurries to catch it before it rings off, suddenly worried it’s the Sheriff with some important news.

He stumbles slightly as he makes his way over, his usually agile body worn down by the numerous disrupted sleeps he’s had since Stiles went missing, on top of the exhausted agitation he’s found himself in constantly for the last several days.

His heart misses a beat as he picks up the phone, noticing the withheld number displayed on the screen rather than that of the Sheriffs. He fumbles to answer it quickly, bringing it up to his ear with a growl.

“Who is this?” He says as soon as the phone is nestled close to his ear, his other hands indicating wildly to Erica and Boyd to get their attention.

“Someone’s a little angry this morning,” The male voice on the other end of the phone says with a chuckle. “I’ll have to let the Omega know his Alpha has problems controlling his temper, poor thing should be wary about that.”

Derek feels his heart drop to his stomach in an instant as sweat blossoms over his clammy skin.

“Where is he? Where is Stiles?” He manages to grit out, his hand squeezing the phone tightly to his ear as his teeth lengthen, biting into his lip.

He flinches when he feels a small hand wrap around one arm with a steady grip and a heavy hand land on his shoulder, before realising the close presence of two of his pack, grounding him, helping to keep the downward spiral of his control at bay.

“Think you might need to calm down, little Alpha.” The smug voice says, humour lacing his words as he continues, “That’s exactly why we called you, Derek. We’ve got a proposition for you.”

“A proposition? Why the hell should I even listen to you? What have you done with Stiles? What have you done with my uncle? Where are you keeping them?” He grinds out, his voice more a growl than anything else.

“Ah, ah, ah. This isn’t question time, Derek.” The Alpha clucks his tongue in reply, “We’re willing to give you the Omega back, under a couple of conditions. If you agree, then that’s just fantastic, if not, well…I can’t guarantee that either the Omega or your uncle will make it out of this unharmed, let alone alive.”

“If you do anything to them, I swear to god-“ Derek spits out, his whole body shaking in pure fury as he speaks.

“Hmm, you’re not really in the position to be throwing around threats, are you Derek? Last time I checked, we had your uncle and omega and you? Well, you don’t really have anything at all, do you?” The Alpha interrupts, his voice dripping derision, “So, as I was saying, you get your omega back just for a couple of favours to us, what do you say?”

Derek is stumped, knowing as well as they do that they have the complete upper hand in the situation, and probably will do until he has his uncle and Omega safely back where they belong. He tries to wrack his brains, think of any solution without agreeing to anything, but his mind is traitorously blank, no immediate ideas springing forward.

“What kind of favours are you talking here?” He reluctantly asks.

“Mm, no. I don’t think that’ll work. I need you to agree first. Say yes now, and I promise we’ll give you back your Omega.”

Derek’s stomach drops. Dreading what the alpha could possibly want in exchange for his mate. Something bad, if the fact that he won’t even talk about it before Derek has agreed is anything to go by. He looks to Erica and Boyd on either side of him. They can hear the whole conversation, their werewolf hearing easily picking up the other end of the conversation, and the look of pure outrage on both of their faces mirrors that on Derek’s own. Erica nods, indicating that he should agree to the conditions, but Boyd looks wary, the ever cautious one of their pack.

“Tick tock, tick tock. Come on, Derek, I don’t think you’re Omega will be very happy knowing you took so long to agree to some tiny little conditions to get him back. I may even be forced to comfort him, they are so easily upset, aren’t they?” The Alpha says with mocking sympathy, the ever present humour lacing his words as he does so.

“Leave him alone! Don’t you dare touch him!” Derek growls once again, his heart beating furious and irregular in his chest, the wolf inside him whining at the threat, at the mere thought of someone else touching what’s his.

“Oh, don’t worry Derek, we’re not going to do anything to him that he isn’t begging for.”

“What…what the hell do you mean by that?”

“It’s irrelevant.” He replies simply, “You’ll get your Omega back, relatively unharmed, and all you have to do right now is say yes. It’s simple. Do you agree?”

“Fine! Fine. Yes.” Derek sighs, his shoulders slumping as he does so, “What the hell are your conditions?”

“Well, for the time being, I simply want you to stop looking for us. You, your little pack and the boys’ father. No police involvement whatsoever either, in fact. This is a werewolf issue, and it’s going to be resolved in the traditional way.”

“In the traditional way…?” Derek asks, his brows furrowing deeply, “What do you mean by that? What werewolf issue are you even talking about?”

“Christ, you’re thicker than even I thought.” The man chuckles, “I suppose you’ll know in due time, it’s not important right now. Just remember; no looking, no searching, no police, and I promise you’re Omega will be returned to you. Do you understand?”

Derek pauses, still unsure as to whether he can take the man’s word for it. He still had issues in trusting anyone, and someone that had taken his mate and uncle? It’s almost more than he can cope with giving.

“I said, do you understand?” The Alpha repeats, the joking tone of his voice gone completely.

“Yes, yes, fine. I get it. I understand.” Derek grits, swiftly realising that the only thing he can do is hope and pray that the werewolf is a man of his word, something that makes Derek feel uneasy.

“Perfect. Well, that’s all for now, Derek.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean that’s all for now? When will I get Stiles and Peter back? You can’t just go now. That wasn’t the deal! You said I’d get them back!”

“Yes, I did. But I didn’t say when, did I? All you need to do is wait. We’ll be in contact in a few days with our second condition, you just need to sit tight until then, ok?”

“Wait! Wait!”

His phone beeps three times to indicate the end of the call and Derek instantly throws it across the room. It hits the wall with a deep thud, and Derek is half surprised that it is completely undamaged. The other part of him wants to throw it again, harder this time, to vent out his frustrations.

Erica’s hand pulls insistently at his arm, forcing him to turn away from the phone lying on the floor and face her instead, before enveloping him in a tight hug, her arms encasing him from the front as Boyd steps close behind him, his arms wrapping around both his alpha and his Mate from the back.

“It’s ok Derek,” Erica says, her voice muffled as she buries her face in his chest, “You did the right thing.”

“You can’t risk them hurting either Stiles or Peter,” Boyd agrees from his position behind Derek, his voice sombre as he speaks, “That was the only option you had to go with.”

Derek doesn’t speak, his insides feeling completely numb as he thinks about his family, the only family he has left besides his pack mates, depending on the word of some crazed Alpha kidnapper to get home safe.

They stand like this for several minutes, taking comfort in each other’s warmth before breaking apart. Derek walks over to the bed in silence before sitting down heavily, his betas on either side of him, his hands running up his face and through his hair in frustration at the near hopelessness of the situation. His exhaustion settles over him, thick and suffocating.

Derek thinks back to the previous afternoon when they’d all gone back to the Sheriff house after the visit to the care home. They’d spoken for hours about the possible reasons why the Alpha’s would target Stiles and Peter, coming only to the conclusion that they had to have something against Derek. None of them could think why they’d have such a problem with him though, being that he hadn’t been in Beacon Hills in several years, hadn’t even realised that he had a mate waiting for him there.

He’d also shared his theory regarding how the Alphas had managed to get Peter from the care home without any of the staff even remembering that he’d lived there in the first place. Derek’s mother had taught him and his sisters everything there was to know about being a werewolf, including the ability to remove a person’s memories using an alpha’s claws. It was a rare skill, only alphas being able to do it, and even then only an alpha of considerable strength and power. His mother had been one of those incredibly talented werewolves, able to manipulate and change someone’s memories simply by stabbing them in the neck with her claws. This knowledge and theory, however, had only managed to confuse and worry them more. Were the men able to meddle with someone’s memories? And if they were, what could two extremely powerful werewolves possibly do to Stiles and Peter to get back at Derek for whatever it is they thought he had done?

The phone call he’s just had still doesn’t answer any of those questions, only agitating him further. Thinking that two dangerous men have his family is one thing, actually hearing it confirmed by one of said men is another thing entirely. He feels tremors going through his body, his wolf still desperately trying to get loose, but forces himself to calm. He needs to focus. The man on the phone, he’d said that they would be in contact again soon, Derek knows they need to ensure that both he and his pack are ready, ready to jump to action as soon as they do. He simply doesn’t have time to waste sitting around being angry about the situation.

Derek feels the last of the uncontrollable anger leave him, only a simmering hum of determination being left behind in its wake. He looks to his betas, ready to get some sort of plan of action in place for when the Alphas get in contact again and, for the first time since he woke up, realises that he is missing a pack mate, Isaac being nowhere to be seen. Panic rises quickly as he looks to his two remaining betas.

“Where the hell is Isaac?” He asks, standing up as if to get a better look at the room.

Erica shifts slightly, looking guilty as Boyd’s face goes skilfully blank, giving nothing away.

“Guys…where is Isaac?” He asks again, this time his Alpha tone lacing the words as he looks at the two Betas that are obviously withholding information.

“It’s nothing to worry about!” Erica rushes to say, her eyes innocently wide, “After you fell asleep last night, he realised he had some questions for the Sheriff, so went over there for the night. We ok’d it all with the Sheriff obviously…he was the one that offered to have Isaac stay over rather than come back here actually, said it would be dangerous to be moving around too much at night, you know?”

“What?” Derek says in disbelief at his betas stupidity, “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up? What was so important he had to leave in the middle of the goddamned night? Is he insane? Are you all insane?”

“Maybe we didn’t let you know because you’d finally fallen asleep and we didn’t want to disturb you? Maybe because it wasn’t something you needed to be awake for? Maybe because it’s not always about you, Derek?” Erica replies, huffing slightly as she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at her alpha the entire time.
Derek feels his heart tug uneasily, as he looks at her with furrowed brows.

“You still should’ve woken me up, Erica. I don’t like the thought of Isaac being out on his own-“

“We’re not children Derek!”

“But I am your Alpha!” Derek thunders, quickly losing his temper and crowding close to the beta.

Erica drops her eyes and bares her neck in submission instantly, the full force of the Alpha’s anger hitting her as she almost cowers before him.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” She whispers out, and Derek instantly recoils, ashamed of himself for getting so angry at his beta.

“No, no Erica. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You know I’m not that kind of alpha. It’s just that, what with everything that’s been going on lately, my wolf has been at the surface, you know? I’m finding it hard to keep myself in check. Do you think you’d be able to forgive me?” He says, bringing his hand up and lightly rubbing her upper arm, hoping to help her relax from her rigid, submissive position.

“I didn’t mean what I said either. I know you don’t think of us as children, and we’re all just as worried as you are about Stiles and your uncle. It was a stupid thing of me to say.” She says as her shoulders slump with her alphas ministrations.

Boyd comes up to the two of them, a quiet, stable presence in the midst of all the anger and confusion.

“The Sheriff came over and picked Isaac up accompanied by the Alpha boy he had spoken to us about.” Boyd says, looking at the Alpha.

“Scott? I suppose that’s better than him going off on his own, but I still don’t like it.” He says grudgingly, though his anger has evaporated since his outburst, “If Isaac’s already at the Sheriff’s, I guess that makes it easier for us to get everyone together, we need to talk about that phone call. The Sheriff might know where we can go from here.”

“I’ll call Isaac to let the Sheriff know to expect us. This is definitely a step in the right direction Derek, and you know we’ll do everything we can to get them both back before anything else can happen to them.” Erica says, sending a reassuring smile his way as she pulls her own phone out to call Isaac.

Chapter Text

Derek, Erica and Boyd make a quick job of getting to the Sheriff’s house, their morning routines being hastily rushed in order to get out of the hotel room and on their way as quickly as possible.

Derek is the first out of the car this time, swiftly making his way up to the front door in order to see his packmate. No matter how much his mind and rationality are calmly telling him that Isaac is absolutely fine, and the chances of anything happening to him in one evening is extremely slim when at home with an armed police officer and an Alpha werewolf, Derek’s instincts are still screaming at him to protect his vulnerable packmate, urging him to get first hand, veritable proof that he is unharmed.

Before Derek manages to storm through the door and find Isaac however, it is quickly opened, and said Omega comes running out towards his alpha, a guilty half-smile playing on his lips as he hugs Derek, exchanging scents and refreshing their bond.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, alpha.” The Omega says, wide-eyed as he looks up at Derek, “I just had a couple of things I wanted to talk to the Sheriff about, you know, like Omega stuff. I thought he might understand because of Stiles being one.”

“You should’ve still let me know, I would have let you go, you know? I might have ended up coming with you, but it wouldn’t have been an issue for me. I just like to know where you guys are, especially now.”

“You’d just fallen asleep, and it’s obvious that you really needed a good sleep for once Derek, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at Isaac, barely convinced by Isaacs obvious lying, but soon finds his attention being drawn away by the appearance of a young Alpha in the doorway.

“You must be Scott?” Derek says over the top of Isaacs head, feeling the Omega tense slightly as he speaks.

“Er, yeah. Hello! Derek right?” Scott greets, a dopey smile spreading across his lips as he walks forward, arm extended to shake hands with the older Alpha, “It’s really nice to meet you, you guys are actually the first werewolves I’ve met since I got bitten, you’re all so cool.”

Derek hears Erica and Boyd snigger as they come up to stand beside Derek and Isaac, Erica brushing her hand through Isaac’s hair quickly, leaving her scent as she looks over at Scott.

“And you, Scotty boy, are like a little puppy.” She says with a smirk, moving towards the young Alpha after finishing her scenting of Isaac.

“I know we all saw each other when you came to pick Isaac up last night, but we didn’t really do introductions. I’m Erica, this is Boyd.” She says, gesturing towards her mate.

“Yeah, hi guys, it’s great to meet you, Isaac mentioned you a fair few times last night, so it already feels like we’re best friends or something.” Scott replies to Erica, shaking both her and her mates’ hands, the lop-sided grin never leaving his face.

“Hey, about that, what did you need to speak with the Sheriff about last night that was so urgent you couldn’t just wait until today, Isaac?” Derek asks, looking down at the Omega with a raised brow. It soon furrows however, when the sour scent of Isaac’s distress worked its way up to him and he took a quick step back, holding the Omega at arm’s length to have a look at his face. “Isaac, what the hell is wrong?”

“Nothing!” Isaac says quickly, his eyes going wide as he looks at his two fellow betas and the young Alpha behind him.

Derek doesn’t miss the way all five of the young wolves look at each other, and it’s obvious even to him that they are keeping something from him, but before he is able to say something else the Sheriff appears in the doorway, arms folded loosely in front of his chest as he takes in the scene.

“Enough, Hale.” He says with finality, gesturing them all to come inside and sit in the living room, “Leave Isaac be for a bit and come and tell me what happened this morning.”

They all crowd the living room, the six of them taking up all of the available seating as they turn to Derek to listen to his explanation.

“I’m not sure how much Erica has explained before we got here,” He begins, casting a quick look at said beta before continuing, “but I received a call first thing this morning, at first I thought it was you, but then I noticed it was a withheld number so I was wary from the start, believing it to be the kidnappers.”

“Are you positive?” The Sheriff asks quickly, leaning toward Derek, his elbows on his knees as he tightly clenches his hands together, anxiety, hope, fear, all clear on his exhausted features.

“Yeah, he confirmed it himself, pretty much the first thing he said really. Said he’d have to tell my Omega I had anger issues after I answered the phone a bit abruptly.” Derek scoffs lightly, his hand quickly coming up to scrub at his hair before falling back into his lap, “As if I can be anything but angry at the minute, the bastard.”

“What did he say? Please, tell me exactly what he said about Stiles,” The Sheriff pleads, “Is he hurt? Are those bastards hurting my son?”

Derek gulps loudly, fingers trembling slightly as he tells the Sheriff, Isaac and Scott exactly what was said during the short conversation that morning, all three of their faces turning more grave as he continues. By the time he mentions the condition set out by the kidnapper, all three of the men look pale, their faces set in grim lines.

“They didn’t give us any clues as to where they could be, I have no idea what kind of state Stiles or my uncle are in, and now I can’t even…I’m not allowed to look for them.” Derek says quietly, his voice almost a whisper as he brings his head down into his hands.

Scott stands quickly, a flash of anger on his so far, constantly happy face.

“We can’t just abandon them! He’s my best friend! I’m not going to stop looking for him just because some, some whack job told me not to!” He exclaims, before looking at all four of the other werewolves, his eyes wide and pleading, “Please, please don’t stop looking. We might not be able to get them back without your help, so please.”

“He’s right, Derek.” The Sheriff says firmly, “We’re not going to stop looking for them, favours or conditions be damned, that’s my son they’d got with them and I won’t stop until he’s back home and they are in police custody, come hell or high water.”

Derek sits quietly, not even raising his head as the Sheriff speaks to him. He knows they’re right. He completely agrees with them even. He doesn’t want to stop looking, he wants to check under every rock, search every house in the town until he finds Stiles, but he’s wary. The Alphas have proven themselves far more powerful than your average werewolf. They’d managed to kidnap Peter from the middle of a secure medical compound and made everyone working at, living in and visiting the place completely forget the older Hale had ever even existed. And they knew Derek is in town. They’d probably known as soon as the four of them had landed at the airport that they were heading this way. Derek dreads to even think what more they could be possible of.

“Derek…” Isaac says, his voice low, though loud enough for all of them to hear, “They’re right, aren’t they? We can’t stop looking for them just because they said so, we can’t play into their hands like that.”

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do, Isaac?” Derek says, finally lifting his head up and looking at the Omega, “Where do we even start? The Sheriff has been searching for Stiles since Monday, if you hadn’t already realised, it’s now Saturday and all that we’ve managed to do in that time is find out that not only did they kidnap a high school kid from his own kitchen, they also managed to grab a comatose burn victim right from under our noses! We can’t trace their number, can’t trace their scents, can’t do anything. So please Isaac, anyone, tell me, what the hell are we supposed to do?!”

By the end of his speech, Derek is shouting, standing up in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched widely, inviting any of the other rooms occupants to speak up and answer.

When they all remain silent after several moments, eyes wide at the outburst, Derek finally deflates again, slumping back into the sofa and returning his head to the cradle of his palms.

“If we do anything, they’ll know. They’ll know straight away and they could punish Stiles and my uncle for it. I can’t. I can’t have any more of my family hurt because of something I’ve actively done. I just…I can’t.”

Derek feels the sofa dip slightly beside him before he is engulfed within three sets of arms, the combination of warmth and their separate scents of comfort and love instantly saturating deep into him. They stay for several minutes, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, before Boyd speaks up, surprising everyone in the room.

“When we get them back, will you be willing to admit to Stiles that you stopped looking?” He asks sombrely, “Will you be prepared to tell him that you went along with what the men who had taken him had asked? If Stiles is anything like what I believe him to be, he won’t want you sitting here moping, twiddling your thumbs waiting for your next instructions from them. He’d want you to be out there, raising hell and getting hold of them, if not for himself, then for your uncle. Don’t let what happened to your family all those years ago stop you from getting Stiles back. You couldn’t save them, but you can save him and Peter.”

“Um, I’m not like, 100% sure of what he was just on about, Derek, but I agree with him. Stiles would probably be going mental if he knew we were gonna listen to them. He’s more than likely raising a little of his own hell with them himself to be honest. I’m surprised they haven’t just given him back already, he can be a bit of a handful.” Scott says, the puppy dog expression still evident in his wide eyes and hopeful expression, but beneath it all is still a firm determination and it’s obvious to all of them that Scott won’t be stopping his search for Stiles, Derek’s blessing be damned. “If he’s working hard to get away from them, we need to work hard to be there ready to bring him home.”

Derek looks up at Scott, still not saying anything further, but it’s clear to all of them from his expression that what they’re saying is slowly making its way into his head.

He closes his eyes tightly, letting out a short huff of air before opening them again, looking at all five of them surrounding him.

“Fine, ok. We keep looking.” He finally says, “But you still haven’t answered my question about how. We’ve completely ran out of options as far as I can see. Everything’s ended up at a dead end. Sheriff, is there no way of somehow getting their number off my phone or something?”

“I’m not really the tech savvy one, I’d have to get Parrish onto it, but that still doesn’t mean that we’re completely out of options. We can go back to the care home, go back to the old Hale house, we can search every single inch of this whole damn preserve until we find something.” The Sheriff says with conviction, looking at each of them in turn, “We’ll have to split up, obviously, but I want everyone in teams of no less than two people, I don’t want to risk anyone else being taken from right under our noses. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find something more before they get in contact with us again, it might even give us the upper hand.”

“Did they say when they’d next call, Derek?” Isaac asks as they all start to get up, readying themselves for another full day of searching.

“No, but he made it seem like it’d be in the next day or two.”

Isaac looks thoughtful for a moment, before his eyes widen.

“Shit.” The Omega says loudly, suddenly fumbling around trying to locate his phone in his pockets, “Shit, shit, shit. What’s the date? What’s the date today?”

“Um, the 20th,” Scott says as he rushes to Isaac’s side, his face crumbling slightly at the sight of the frantic Omega. “What’s wrong?”

Derek raises a brow at the strange display from the Alpha, wary of someone getting so close to his pack, but is surprised when his instincts don’t kick in like he expected them to, his wolf more than happy to let another Alpha get close to the only Omega member of his pack. He tries to ignore the odd weirdness of that, tuning in again on said Omegas panicked words.

“Full moon. It’s the full moon on Monday night.” Isaac says quickly, mobile phone finally in hand and evidently on his moon cycle app.

“What? How the hell did we all manage to forget that?” Erica says, coming up behind Isaac and peering at the screen of his phone, “Huh? Must’ve been with all the excitement of the last few days or something, but usually I feel all on edge back home.”

“That’s probably because we’re back on the preserve,” Boyd says as he comes closer to his pack, “We’re pretty much in the middle of a forest here, trees rather than concrete buildings. I’d probably guess that our instincts are more subdued here than they are in a city where we can’t necessarily let ourselves be truly free during a full moon.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asks to both Boyd and Isaac, head flicking between the two of them. This couldn’t be good. He knows that what Boyd is saying is correct. Usually, they’d spend their full moon evenings curled up in his apartment together, watching movies and eating a load of food. It was very rare that they were actually able to go out and run like their instincts were prodding them to do, but out here in Beacon Hills, they’d all be able to go on a proper run, probably for the whole night without being disrupted by fellow townspeople. It would probably be the best full moon the pack had had since moving away from the area, if only they didn’t have two potentially extremely powerful Alpha werewolves in the area, possibly looking to get their hands on another member of Derek’s pack or family, and it’d be the perfect time, when the three youngest wolves would probably be far too excitable to pay proper attention to their surroundings over the course of the entire evening.

“What’s so important about a full moon? I mean, I know you all get kind of wolfy, though I tend not to pay too much attention during Scott’s time of the month, you know? Ignorance is bliss and all that. But it’s got to be a good thing, right? All your werewolf senses will be heightened? We’ll have an even better chance of finding them.” The Sheriff pipes in, his face hopeful as he looks at the five werewolves in the room.

“That’s great, then, right Guys?” Scott says, his eyes brightening even further when he looks at Isaac, “It’ll be my first ever, real full moon. Stiles usually tries to keep me locked up or tethered to a tree in the backyard-“

“Tethered to a tree? Is he insane-?” Erica asks, her own eyes going comically wide before being interrupted by Isaac.

“No, no, no. God, Derek, it all makes sense now!” Isaac says, looking at his alpha in horror as realisation hits him. He begins pacing slightly, ignoring all of the five other occupants in the room who are following his movements with perplexed expressions, “The full moon, your mate being kidnapped, your only living family being taken, bringing you back here? It’s so obvious, I can’t believe we didn’t realise this sooner!”

“What the hell are you talking about Isaac?” Erica asks, arms folded across her chest and her face pouting slightly. Her brows are furrowed deep as she tries to come to the conclusion herself as the Omega continues to mutter quietly to himself, looking more concerned the longer he does so.

“Isaac, tell me what you’re thinking! What’s makes sense? What the hell is happening?” Derek says worriedly, pulling at the Omega’s arm until he’s facing the Alpha before shaking him slightly, trying to pull Isaac from his thoughts.

“Your territory, Derek.” Isaac says in almost a whisper, his scent souring instantly, the bitter, rotten scent permeating the whole room quickly. He looks at Derek, his whole body tense, his eyes wide and fearful. “They want to fight you for leadership of Beacon Hills.”

Chapter Text

Stiles shivers, his whole body trembling as sweat pebbles across the wide expanse of bare skin. He takes several large breaths that rattle as they pass through him, then swallows several times, desperately trying to lubricate his parched mouth.

He shifts on the bed, feeling the mattress soaking up the sweat pouring off him, and freezes, eyes wide, when he feels something far too viscus to be sweat sliding down his ass crack and dampening the fabric below.

Stiles feels panic begin to bubble up within him, his arms shaking slightly as he shifts in discomfort. He’s desperate. Desperate for his dad, for Scott, for his own bed, with his own blankets and clothes. He just wants anything but the chilled room, the wet bed he’s lying on and the intense almost overbearing loneliness he’s currently feeling. His body aches for contact, for the warmth of another body, the scent of family, he just wants to feel safe, and looked after.

His breathing hitches, a sob retching from him and burning his throat as tears flood from his eyes. He’s alone. He’s alone and he wants his dad. He needs his dad, Scott, Derek.

The door opens wide suddenly, banging on the wall and forcing Stiles abruptly out of his heat dazed stupor.

Peter walks into the room and his scent instantly permeates the room. The heady scent of rich red wine ingrains itself in Stiles’ body, engulfs him, and he feels himself go light-headed from the assault. He could get drunk on the scent, drown in it, and at the moment, he isn't even opposed to the idea. The fever on his skin intensifies and Stiles’ can feel it swiftly heating up his frozen core, the heat blossoming and blooming and soon taking over his whole body. His skin itches, stretched too tight over his limbs and chest and he aches to scratch it, soothe the pain.

He hears a distressed whine, pathetic and needy, and it takes him several moments to realise that it’s actually coming from him, his body singing out to the Alpha in the room to help him, make the pain go away, replace it with the pleasure only an Alpha truly could.

At the back of Stiles' mind, he knows this isn't right, his body is yearning for the man though deep down he recognises that Peter isn't his mate, isn't the Alpha he should be pining for. The waves of arousal sweeping him make it so hard to do anything but cock his neck and submit though, earning him a pleased smirk from the older man.

Peter walks forward, his pupils dilating further the closer he gets to Stiles, until there is only a thin red ring circling deep pools of dark lust in his eyes. Stiles feels his own eyes changing in response to the Alpha red, his gold iris’ shining brightly, and shudders when this earns him another approving quirk of the Alpha's lips.

Stiles shifts on the bed again, his body desperately trying to get closer to the Alpha that is so stubbornly staying out of arms reach. He can feel the bed below him completely saturated with his moisture, both sweat and slick, and can’t help the pathetic whine when the quickly cooling fabric rubs over his sensitive skin.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?” Stiles manages to gasp out, his eyes tightly squeezed shut as the heat of his body threatens to take over him completely.

Peter brings his usual chair closer to the bed and sits down before leaning over Stiles body, his hand coming up to run down his face, ice cold fingers leaving an invisible trail across Stiles’ fevered skin.

“Hmm,” Peter hums, fingers continuing their journey down Stiles’ chest, “That is the question, little one, maybe I’ll let you in on the little secret.”

He leans down further, his lips beside Stiles’ ear, his hot breath causing a shiver to run over the Omega’s whole body as the older man speaks.

“Those drugs I've been giving you? They don’t just make you a submissive little bitch, they bring on your heat too.” He says and, before Stiles can do anything to resist it, takes hold of the young boys’ lobe with his teeth, sucking the flesh into his mouth. Stiles gasps loudly, the suckling motion seeming to have a direct line to his already rock solid cock, and bucks up slightly, his hips seeking any kind of friction they can. Peter hums out a low chuckle, the vibrations resounding deep inside Stiles, before he lets go of Stiles’ ear and retreats back to his seat, completely composed but for the still bright red ring surrounding each blown pupil.

“Luckily for you,” Peter continues as his eyes travel the length of Stiles’ body before returning to his face, “I've only had to bring it forward by a few days, you were due by the end of the week anyway. It really is like fate, isn't it, little one?”

“W-why would you do that?” Stiles hears himself groan out, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he looks up at the collected man above him, “Why would you want to do that?”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, cocking his head slightly to the side as he looks at Stiles.

“It’s all rather simple, Omega. In order for my plan to succeed, I require Derek to be…well, I suppose distracted would be the best word for it, I need Derek to be completely beside himself with grief or fear, or even anger, when he gets here. Men, especially wolves, can be entirely too impulsive when they’re faced with huge emotions like that, and an impulsive man is an easily beaten man.” His eyes glint with amusement as he once again does a sweeping glance of Stiles body before continuing, “And I really couldn't have found a better source of grief or anger than what I have right here, all wrapped up in one, easily-manipulated little bundle.”

“What? But that’s..! You can’t do that!” Stiles spits out, the sporadic waves of heat in his body abating slightly, finally giving him some repose.

“Oh, Omega,” Peter sighs, voice patronising as he speaks, “Did no one ever tell you? Life isn't fair. Was it fair that my family all died because of that boy? Was it fair that I was in a coma for six years, six years! Because he thought he was in love? No. Life isn't fair, and it’s about time Derek paid the price for his digressions.”

“If, if you just spoke to him about it? Please,” Stiles pleaded, eyes wide, “Please, you don’t have to do it this way, he’ll give you the territory, I'm sure of it, just don’t do this.”

“No. I had to sit and watch my family burn to death around me. He is going to feel every single bit of pain I felt, tenfold. I have waited a long time for this, too long, so I want everything to. Be. Perfect.” Peter spits out at Stiles, causing the latter to shrink back away from him, the biting scent of anger sweeping over him from the Alpha.

Peter closes his eyes and takes several calming breaths before opening them, a hint of excitement on his face as he speaks.

“Do you want to know the best bit, Omega?” He asks, carrying on speaking without waiting for a reply, “It’s the Full Moon in a couple of days and when I take Derek’s life, and the whole of the Hale territory becomes mine? The power is going to be immense. Immeasurable. More so than I believe even I can imagine. You’re really very lucky, when I think about it.”

“L-lucky? How am I lucky? You've got me strapped down here, you…you've been giving me weird drugs, a-and you’re going to kill my Alpha, an Alpha I haven’t even had a chance to know yet.” Stiles chokes out, eyes bright as tears finally run loose, streaming down his face and mixing with the cool sweat dampening his hair and skin. “How could I possibly be lucky?”

“You’ll have yourself an incredibly powerful Alpha,” Peter says simply in return, “I’ll take you, claim you straight after I've killed that worthless runt, and you’ll know what it means to be mated to the most powerful man in the whole of California.”

“You’re sick!” Stiles spits out at the Alpha, his stomach clenching uneasily as he thinks of being forcibly mated, bound to the barbaric, crazed wolf before him.

“No, no I'm not. I'm simply ambitious, and possibly a tad vengeful. I know what I want, and I do everything I can to get it. No matter the cost, no matter how many lives I have to destroy to get it. There’s nothing wrong with that, little one.” Peter says uncaring of Stiles scathing remark as he leans himself closer to the Omega once again, running a large hand down Stiles’ chest. His fingers catch on the pebbled nipples jutting out, causing the Omega to gasp as the feeling shoots straight to his painfully erect penis, “And trust me, when the time comes, when it’s all said and done and Derek is dead, you’ll know exactly what you want too, and I’ll be more than willing to provide.”

Stiles’ breathing becomes heavy as Peter continues with his slow exploration of his sweat slicked chest, his cock leaking liberal amounts of watery come as each languid stroke, each soft scratch of blunt nail, pulses in the straining member. Peter seems transfixed, watching his own fingers causing the Omega before him to writhe and shift.

“Hmmm,” Peter says as he comes back to himself, “You know what, little one? I think we've spoken enough for the today. I did actually come in here with a different task in mind, you seem to have distracted me. But, no matter, we can start now.”

Stiles furrows his brows as Peter speaks, unease churning in his gut as the Alpha above him continues his touching,

“Wha-oh! “ Stiles tries to speak but finds himself gasping as Peter pinches his left nipple, the sharp tug forcing his penis to spasm, another thin drop of come pooling in the dip of his belly button.

“I want everything to be perfect,” Peter says as his eyes zero in on Stiles’ cock, the small erection bouncing in time to his harsh tugging, “And that includes you too, little one. I don’t want you ruining quite possibly the best moment of my life with your wilful insubordination and ignorance.”

“W-what? What do you mean? What are you doing? Get off me!” Stiles struggles, trying to get away from the cold fingers manipulating his body.

“No. you will be quiet, you will take what I give you, and you. Will. Like. It.” Peter hisses, red eyes boring into Stiles.

Stiles feels a sudden wave of heat crash over him in reaction to Peters' tone, feels his breathing quicken and a fresh trickle of slick swiftly leaving his body, adding to the liberal amounts already soaking into the mattress below him.

“See? Your body is just craving subjugation. Craving a strong Alpha to guide you, to submit to. You’re already doing so well. We just need to ensure you behave like this all the time.” Peter purrs at Stiles.

“Please, please,” Stiles begs, but for what, even he doesn't know and Peter raises a hand to the Omega's face, pulling it toward him to take in the flush cheeks, the full lips and bright amber eyes.

“Perfect, you’ll be so perfect.” Peter croons at him, before he lets go of Stiles’ head and makes a purposeful decent down his torso, avoiding his cock and instead settling between the Omega's spread legs.

Stiles squirms, tries to pull away from the intrusive fingers, but can barely move with the shackles holding him spread eagle on the bed. He watches Peters’ face with wide eyes as he feels long fingers dragging over his thighs and inching closer to his leaking hole.

He gasps loudly, his hips bucking up and pulling his shackles taut as one finger brushes over his hole, leaving a trail of slick in its wake as the Alpha moves his fingers back up towards Stiles’ cock and balls before repeating the motion.

A fresh wave of heat courses through him as the fingers flicker lightly, delicately, past his hole and towards his balls over and over, each time causing the young boys hips to shudder, his cock bouncing wetly as it slaps his stomach with the motions.

“So very receptive.” Peter murmurs, almost in awe as he coats his fingers in the thick slick pulsing from the Omega. “If you’re like this already, I can barely imagine what you’ll be like when I'm balls deep in your wet, little cunt. It’ll be magnificent”

Stiles feels himself preen, completely lost in the praise of his Alpha, his head lolling to the side to prove how good he is, how good he can be.

Then he remembers, feels the deep ache in his chest, the rising sense of wrongwrongwrong that seems to beat within him in time with his heart. He wants to scramble away from the probing fingers, away from the heavy scent of arousal coming off both himself and the Alpha above him. Wants to close his legs, curl up away from him. But he doesn't, he can’t. His body and mind completely conflicted, Desperate for touch, for more, but eager to get away, get the touches he desires from the Alpha meant for him, made for him.

“It’s harder to resist the drugs now, isn't it, little one?” Peter hums again, “You should be a drooling mess with the amount you've had, but look at you, so strong. So defiant. Beautiful. I think it’ll be much more fun this way.

“I’ll keep you on low doses, for the time being. But once it’s all over, you won’t be needing it anymore, you’ll eager to be claimed and collared, I'm sure. Probably desperate for a pup or two as well.” Peter says, cocking a wry smile at Stiles as the latter’s eyes go wide, “Oh, you like that don’t you? Can’t wait to be all full up with my pups. Barefoot and pregnant? Don’t worry little one, it’ll happen soon enough. I’ll be surprised if you've not caught by the end of the week.”

Stiles feels his body start to shake, the heat abating once again as tears well up in his eyes, trickling to his hairline, his blood going cold within him.

“No, no, no, please don’t, please.” Stiles begs, his lips trembling as he speaks, revulsion and fear sweeping over him at the Alpha's words. “I-I ca-can’t! Please don’t do this to me, please!”

“No. you can, and you will.” Peter says, before removing his fingers from Stiles’ hole completely, turning away and rummaging through a bag Stiles hadn't even noticed. His hand emerges, holding tight onto something that he dangles in front of Stiles’ face, a smug smirk spreading over the Alphas lips as Stiles’ eyes widen.

“Now, I warned you, Omega.” Peter says as he shakes out the straps of the contraption above Stiles' head. “I said if you continued to be a noisy, whiny little bitch, I’d have to get something to shut you up.”

“Please, no.” Stiles begs, tears building in his eyes as he looks at the large red ball attached to a thick, leather strap. “Please don’t-“

“Hush, Omega.” Peter chastises as he roughly shoves the ball into Stiles mouth, forcing his jaw wide. He makes quick work of strapping it tight to Stiles head, firmly holding it as the Omega tries to retreat away from him.

Peter inspects the gag closely, tilting Stiles’ head before releasing it with an approving hum.

“Perfect.” He says with a nod, “I knew those lips would look beautiful wrapped around a gag. It’s obscene, really.”

Stiles desperately pushes against the intrusion with his tongue, but it barely moves, only becoming slick with his spit.

Peter pats his cheek twice, wiping away a small trickle of spit from Stiles’ bottom lip before he turns back to Stiles’ neglected anus, quickly plunging two fingers deep into Stiles’ quivering hole, the rim easing open to welcome the slim, long digits.

Stiles’ lets out a startled cry, body tensing harshly at the sudden intrusion in his leaking hole and Peter slowly eases the fingers out before smoothly pushing them back in. Stiles hole soon relaxes, relishing in the small sense of fullness, before greedily clenching around the long fingers.

He can barely concentrate on anything but the fingers exploring him internally, his body desperate for release, for the ache to finally finally be gone. He barely cares that its Peter causing these reactions, barely spares a thought to the Alpha searching for him, ready to save him. He concentrates only on how far those fingers can reach within him, how they caress the walls of his anus, spreading the slick, massaging it into the aching muscles. He groans around the gag, his body unsure if he wants to grind his hips down, take in more of those fingers already lodged inside him, or buck up and seek friction for the painfully erect cock jutting out leaking thin streaks of come profusely from the deep red tip.
Peter chuckles slightly watching the desperate Omega, revelling in the warm wet heat of his hole, searching for the bundle of nerves he knows will set the young boy alight with pleasure. He knows exactly when he finds it, Stiles’ body shooting away from his probing fingers in shock, the loud and downright dirty groan that escapes around the ball gag, and quickly returns his fingers to the spot, grinding his fingertips down on the Omega’s prostrate until he can see the tightening of the young boys balls, the quiver of his penis as he readies for release.

Stiles head rocks from side to side harshly, body tensing and relaxing, chasing the overwhelming pleasure, desperate for release, he’s on the precipice, the edge of the cliff, he’s ready to jump, to fall, to throw himself head first into the unknown that’s building, when, suddenly, just as he feels his body ready itself for the final burst, the fingers leave him. He whines, his body still chasing its release, hips stuttering when a sudden overwhelming burn cuts through arousal and desperation of only moments before.

His eyes shoot open, his head whipping up to look at the Alpha above him, holding what appears to be an ice pack to his penis.

He muffles a scream around the gag lodged in his mouth, body convulsing as his balls instantly contract, his cock shrinking to a pitiful stub in the thatch of thick pubic hair. He squeezes his eyes closed, forcing large breaths out of his nose as he tries to calm himself, his hips pressing down into the damp mattress to get away from the torturous cold engulfing his dick and balls.

“I would apologise,” Peter says as Stiles continues his useless struggles, “But it would be insincere. I had to do it in order to pop this on you.”

Peter lifts the shiny, silver cock cage into Stiles line of sight, smirking seeing the colour drain from the Omegas flushed cheeks.

Stiles shakes his head wildly, his hips cocking away from Peters hands and the ice pack he holds, but he can barely shift more than a few inches. Peter hears the gurgled pleas trying to get past the spit slick ball in the Omegas mouth and lets out a quick huff of amusement.

“Claimed Omega’s have no use for their cocks, little one.” Peter says as he throws the ice pack across the room and pulls Stiles’ torso towards him, deftly handling the cock cage and attaching it snugly around the Omegas’ small cock and balls. “You've no need to touch it. If you want to come, it’ll be from my cock or my fingers.”

Stiles' heart stutters when Peter removes his fingers from the contraption around his genitals, his body stock still as he tries to comprehend the foreign feeling of captivity. He looks over at Peter in a daze, the heat burning at a low ember within him desperate to spread once again, inching closer and closer to the surface to completely engulf him in all-consuming need.

Peter looks over the caged cock and balls, giving them a quick tap before once again plunging his index and middle finger straight into the Omega's hole, still loose and wet from his earlier fondle. He sets a punishing pace, rubbing roughly at the walls of the Omega's anal passage, scraping against the bundle of nerves deep within. He doesn't stop, not when he hears the guttural groans coming from Stiles, not when he see's the arms and legs strapped to the bed flail against their shackles, not even when he notices the heaving chest as the Omega tries to take in large breaths. He ignores it all, continuing until the Omega stills suddenly, several small spurts of come erupting from the still limp dick tucked securely into its cage as he screams around his gag.

Peter removes his fingers one last time, running them through the watery come dribbling down the Omegas cock, before bringing them up to Stiles' face, smearing the liquid liberally onto the plush bottom lip.

"Perfect, absolutely perfect."