#unelore

“You’re barely standing, even though there has been ample time for you to heal since we drove off the Hunters chasing you. Do you need any assistance purging your systems from whatever it was that is keeping you from healing?”

In response to his question, he gets a pair of incredulous stares pointed at him and uneasy rumblings from the rest of his pack. Granted, he is offering aid to unknown entities – one of which had already attacked one of them (then again, it was Peter, so she got a bit of a pass on that) – but something in his gut told him that these two needed his protection.

Needed him.

“No, we don’t need anything taken out… that’s part of the funny part…” The girl makes some sort of noise, a signal for her pair to stop stalling because the next thing Derek knows is that he’s now looking to a pair of red eyes – a slightly different shade than his own – and a pair of sharp fangs grinning at him.

“You’re vampires.”

His statement causes another rumble to travel through his pack, even as the woman glares at him and snaps, “Yes, and you’re all werewolves. Now that we’ve established our supernatural affiliations, can we get to the part where you tell us whether you’re going to rip our heads off or not?”

The male’s soft, “Lydia…” is almost lost to the answering snarls her demand stirs up, Cora being suspiciously silent behind her, and it takes Derek growling out a short, “Enough!” to get everyone to calm down.

“You have yet to tell me why you were being chased by Hunters. That will be the deciding factor on whether or not there will be any head ripping.”

There’s a snort behind him, probably from Erica, even as the male shakes his head and meets Derek’s gaze, teeth gone back to their human shape.

“It’s like you said, Alpha. We’re vampires. They didn’t need another reason.”

Derek frowns, eyes catching the way that the man in front of him seems to be swaying a little. “The Hunters in these parts have a Code-”

The female – Lydia – huffs at that, her white-knuckled grip on her companion the only thing that seems to be keeping her upright. “Yes, a Code that says to torture and maim all supernaturals, no matter if they haven’t done anything wrong, the disgusting, worthless-”

This time, it’s Scott that cuts her off, with an angry growl and a move like he’s going to attack her before Derek cuts him off with a harsh snap of his teeth. It doesn’t stop Lydia from crouching into a defensive stance, amber eyes glowing and fangs dropped as she snarls back, though.

Unfortunately, this has the side effect of her pair losing whatever it was that was keeping him upright, something that he makes known with a muttered, “Oh shit.” as he pitches forward.

“Stiles!”

Lydia makes to catch him, but her weakness makes itself known in the way that she stumbles and is too slow to halt her pair’s descent.

Derek, however, is not.

He isn’t even really thinking as he reaches out and catches Stiles – trying to ignore the part of him that is grateful the strange word that Lydia muttered when he showed up had been a name and not a curse - ending up with his arms around the man’s shoulders and Stiles’ face pressed into his neck.

There is a sudden inhalation from almost the entirety of those in the clearing and then a swift, shuddering silence.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice how tense it has become around him, or the fact that his fingers have clawed into Derek’s back almost as soon as he caught him. All he seems to be interested in rubbing his nose along the column of the neck in front of him and whispering, “You… you smell really good…”

Derek chances a quick look at Lydia, his grip reflexively tightening when he sees the despair in her eyes and the way she looks as if she wants to rip Stiles from Derek’s grasp. It’s a little surprising to also see that she has a hand gripped in Cora’s coat, but he doubts either of them are really in a state to notice right now…

“Stiles-”

“It’s been ages, hasn’t it, Lydia?” Stiles’ words are muffled, pressed into Derek’s skin with little licks and open-mouthed kisses, something that would be much more intimate in a different situation. “They used to tease us, offering an arm or a cut palm, just to see us writhe and scream…”

“This is another trick, Stiles.” Lydia’s voice is firm, and Derek would be pissed at what she’s insinuating if he couldn’t feel the graze of fangs against his neck at the next pass that Stiles takes. “You do this, and we’re both dead.”

“But he smells so good, Lyds. Like… like…”

“Please.” Derek startles a little when it becomes apparent that Lydia is talking to him now. “He was captured for longer than I was, he was protecting me, he doesn’t… please.”

It takes a moment to realize what she’s asking, but when he does, Derek has to fight off a shudder that he tells himself is revulsion, not anything else.

“I am not a meal to be handed out-”

“No, you don’t understand what this is at all!” Lydia’s gaze is furious, and it soothes something in Derek that this isn’t something to be taken lightly, or that Stiles was reacting like this because Derek just reminded him of a particularly juicy steak. “Think for a moment. Think if you had been cut off from the moon for days, months, even! Think of how you would feel to go from a darkened, bricked up dungeon room and then suddenly be thrown into a wide-open forest with a clear sky! What would you do?!?”

Derek swallows as Stiles’ actions are thrown into terrifying clarity for him, but he still pushes the man’s face away from his neck despite his protests.

That spot is too intimate, too much after a single meeting. He can’t allow that now, but he still needs to figure out who these two really are and what happened that drove them onto his land.

And if what they were saying about the Hunters was true, well…

It’s been a while since Derek himself really hunted anything.

Derek had pushed Stiles’ face away from him by pressing his hand against it, given how the other man had yet to release him, and he’s not sure which of them he surprises more when he says, “Bite me.” at the first tentative touch of Stiles’ tongue to his palm.

There is a sharp hiss somewhere as Stiles freezes, no doubt reminded of the times that he spoke of, of how this was a constant game with the Hunters that had them, but Derek hopes that it is different enough that he doesn’t refuse… although, a part of him is screaming that Stiles should refuse, that what he’s doing is crazy, that they don’t even know these people…

Derek mentally tells that part of himself to take a hike as Stiles finally releases him, only to grab ahold of Derek’s hand like he’s afraid Derek is going to rip it away from him and bring it up to his lips.

Just before he’s about to bite down, Stiles stops himself, body starting to tremble as he mutters, “Don’t hurt her. If... if this is a trick, it’s my fault. You- you can’t hurt her…”

Lydia makes a pained noise and tries to move forward again, only to completely lose her balance and practically collapse onto Cora’s form, his sister making a slight woof of discomfort before shifting her weight so that she’s completely supporting the other girl.

Taking a quick look around the clearing, Derek can see that most of his pack is still on the defensive, but not looking like they’re about to just up and attack the two of them anymore… Although Peter is managing to convey how he thinks that this is a stupid idea, even in wolf form.

Derek decides to just ignore him for now.

Shifting so that Stiles is practically cradled in his arms, Derek tries to ignore the conflicting feelings that this is evoking in him as he whispers, “No one is going to hurt either of you. This isn’t a trick. You’re safe, I promise.”

Stiles looks up at him at that, eyes a swirling mixture of gold and ember as he seems to search Derek’s face for something – a lie, the truth, something that could give him a clue one way or the other – and Derek tries to stay as still as he can as the minutes tick by.

And that’s if these are the ones that follow the rules, the Code... The fact that they were imprisoned and tortured despite having done nothing wrong doesn’t really fill Stiles with hope, though. They’ll probably just drive right past the border with nary a care in the world, finished with the little ‘hunt’ they decided on since everything else was so boring now...

Lydia slips, almost drops, and Stiles pulls himself from the morbid turn that his thoughts have taken to steady and support her. It also helps him get his head on straight; he can’t let himself fall into despair now. He needs to help her, strengthen and assist her.

His blood-sister and last bit of family he has left.

Just a few more miles, just a few more...

A sudden howl cuts through the night, making Stiles chuckle darkly at the thought that if the Hunters don't get them, they'll be too weak to keep from being torn apart from feral dogs.

"Stiles!" Lydia hisses, letting him know that his thoughts have pulled him away for too long. "Stiles, listen."

Another howl floats through the air and Stiles makes to ask what, exactly, Lydia wanted him to hear when the sudden silence answers that question for him:

The Hunters have stopped.

Laughing, moving, even the light that was highlighting where Stiles and Lydia were going is gone.

Like it never was to begin with...

Lydia's hands are like talons in his arm now, her breathing harsh and sharp in his ear as one howl suddenly transforms into two, to three, to a symphony...

Only to cease, an unnatural quiet falling over the woods as the creatures that were making the howls step forward to reveal themselves.

Wolves. Big, beautiful, majestic wolves. With a shine to their eyes that let Stiles know these are just simple beasts...

They slip from the trees like shadows, floating over the ground in a way that Stiles remembers and envies, even as he tries not to give any of them his back... A feat that requires quite a bit of skill as their number seems to multiply each time he turns around.

Fuck.

After a while, one of them apparently decides that it doesn’t want to wait for whatever signal that they’re all waiting for and darts for Lydia, teeth bared in a false mockery of a smile.

Stiles barely has time to move, but Lydia has one last bit of strength in her and claws across the wolf’s snout before it even comes close, making it hit the ground with a yelp.

The rest of the wolves make rumbling noises at this, whether they are laughing at the wolf or gearing up to follow it’s lead, Stiles doesn’t know; he’s too busy watching as Lydia looks at the blood on her fingertips consideringly, stick one in her mouth to suck the blood off before making a face and spitting it out.

Stiles is once more in awe of her, both at the insult and the power of will it took to do that. Even now, he fights the urge to lick up the traces of viscera she’s wiping off in the snow...

His attention is captured by a low rumble echoing through the clearing; this, apparently, is the signal the wolves were waiting for, as they all tense up as soon as they hear it and one last form emerges from the treeline.

It’s another wolf, of course, a midnight black that almost swallows him up in the darkness. If not for their advanced eyesight, Stiles was sure that they wouldn’t see it, and can only stare at it prowling past the other wolves like a king in a court.

A pair of glowing red eyes a moment later shows that this is these wolves’ king. Their Alpha, at least.

Stiles tries not to react when, between one step and the other, the wolf transforms into a man with ebony hair as dark as his fur and the same lean body, steam seems to rise from his body with every step he takes.

The sharp “Stiles!” that Lydia hisses in his ear tells him that he wasn’t very successful and he also mentally shakes his head sharply in an effort to get his thoughts in order. Now really isn’t the best time to be appreciative of the other man’s form...

A man who is either uncaring or unconcerned with the cold as he comes to a stop before them and snaps, “I am Derek Hale, Alpha of these lands. Who are you and why have you brought Hunters to my door?”

Stiles swallows hard, fighting down the need to feed for a little while longer as he tries on his most winning smile.