Despite being back in town for a little over a month and helping Scott's little pack of misfits with the newest big bad; Derek hadn't actually seen Stiles or been in contact with him. Even during and after the mad scramble to find him after his sleep walking incident and going to the hospital to talk with Scott; the aforementioned teen had been tucked away in his hospital room.

When he does see Stiles he's alone, bringing in groceries because despite what the other teens think Derek does, in fact, eat regular food. Stiles is standing just out front of his door - head tipped down, wearing a stripped blue hoodie and fitted red jeans. He smells of sterile cleanliness and static and chilly November air.

For a long moment Derek doesn't think anything else, only stares because really, he was so done with being accosted in his own home. Stiles lifted his head, usual warm honey-brown eyes were flat, dull with dark circles just beneath. The teen also looked a bit pale and there was an almost unnatural stillness to him.

"I think we can skip the 'you aren't Stiles' part," he said plainly, scratching its – Stiles' – nose and stretching its arms above its head casually. "Right, Derek?"

Derek swallowed the momentary bout of anxiety and long suffering feeling of being done with everything. "Should we also skip the part where I ask you what the hell you're doing here? Or should we move straight into the part where I threaten you?" He shifts his feet, widening his stance so he can easily fall into defense or explode into offense.

The Nogitsune snickers, shaking its head and slowly sauntering forward. "First date and we're already negotiating kinks? Interesting, says a lot about you, Derek." Everything about Stiles is so...wrong. The way this thing he walks, the way he holds his shoulders and his jaw, his mannerisms. Even his voice is different which carries the barest hint of a layered tone.

Suddenly Stiles – the Nogitsune – is all up in his space so Derek drops his bags to fight but comes up short – he's fast, really fucking fast. Smooth fingers dig into the bone of his jaw and tugging his face closer. It fucking hurts and Derek feels a grunt leave him involuntarily. Their eyes connect and he knows his are flaring that luminescent, supernatural blue and like this the dark aura around Stiles is even more noticeable.

Not-Stiles doesn't say anything, only stares and draws his closer still until their foreheads are pressing together. Derek's face is doing that thing were he's trying to control himself but the instinct to lash out is frighteningly strong.

"You won't hurt me," it says and for a second Derek's mind falters because it sounds so much like Stiles. "You won't hurt him so let's just be cordial to each other, hm?"

Derek growls, baring his teeth but it was all for show. They both knew where Derek's head and heart lay. All at once he seemed to realize this and all but sagged forward; shoulders curling inward. He looked away from the dark spirit, his mind a jumbled mess.

"Uh, uh, don't be rude, Derek." He'd moved closer, warm breath ghosted over the side of his cheek and ear. "I don't like rudeness, you'll find out just how much if you do it again, kay?" The tone was light, the words not exactly threatening but the underlying was there and Derek shivered but didn't say anything.

"What d'you want?" Derek glared into bottomless brown eyes glazed with obscurity and sin. "If you're going to kill me then just do it already." He spat.

The Nogitsune only laughed releasing Derek with a small push causing the werewolf to stumble backward. "Now, Derek, if I wanted to kill you I'd have already done it as most say." he said with a smile, turning and circling the omega leisurely – arms outstretched in front of him and fingers dancing in the air.

"So you don't want to kill me?" Derek watched him carefully, moving his arm slowly to reach into his back pocket only for his wrist to be taken into a steel grip and a body to slot against his – lips on his throat.

"No, I don't want to kill you just yet…" It pulled back to look into Derek's eyes then mashed their lips together. Derek stiffened eyes wide open and panicked. The kiss was absolutely punishing, brutal and filthy – his body didn't exactly care that this was a seventeen year old housing a dark spirit pressing into him. Wet lips pulled away from his and nipped along his jaw he never imagined the sound of teeth scrapping against his scruff could be so arousing or one suckling on his earlobe.

Hands slipped over his shoulders, "I don't want you dead but that doesn't mean I can't make you hurt a little." It whispered mischievously and the hint of laughter in his voice and then absolute agony exploded along his left side – right were a knee dug into his ribs; his legs gave out and his knees smashed into the hard ground.

Derek's roar echoed around them and the Nogitsune cooed; winding long fingers through his hair and keeping the werewolf's head anchored to his chest. "I know it hurts terribly." he whispered, "but it needs to be done, Derek. I'm sure you'll understand eventually, if not you then Peter will. Where is that terrifically shady Uncle of yours, hm?"

Derek was panting, every breath flushing fire through his veins – how the hell should he know where Peter was? As much as he'd like to he can't control the man but…

"Did you figure it out now?" It laughed then and moved down into Derek's clouded field of vision – his ribs weren't healing right, he could feel them pressing together beneath his skin. His head flopped, body attempting to sag further into the floor but only succeeded in sitting back on his legs.

"Scott…" he mumbled over a heavy tongue.

There was a chuckle and then he was flopping to the ground, a choked noise lifting from his throat. "Oh buddy, don't make that sound, I know you've gone through worse." It said and then fucking patted his side the heel of his hand digging into his body and shifting the broken bones even more. Derek hacked, tasting blood in his mouth and tried to roll away.

The Nogitsune tutted and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and started dragging him into the loft. His head hung limply, blood sluggishly slipping over his lower lip. He looked to his right and saw the lone table in the open space of the living room and his face twisted into confusion. Derek fought the hands that tried to manhandle him with a weak growl.

"Derek…" his name was spoke low and held warning and promise wrapped together.

"Stiles, you have to fight it. Fight it, Stiles!"

There was silence and then Stiles' face was crowding close to his. "Look, Derek, I'm going to level with you for a moment, yeah? Stiles isn't here right now, he's gone – asleep and unharmed but if you continue to fuck with me or let that little Alpha of yours continue to stick his nose where it doesn't belong..."

He grasped Derek's jaw in the same steely grip to stare into his eyes. "I'll move up my plans for this town and kill every single person...and leave just you for last; just because you have a pretty face. Now, be a good boy and dream a little dream of me." It purred sweetly before slammed Derek's head backward into the edge of the table.

It wasn't Peter or even Scott that found Derek hours later but Aiden and Ethan. They took in the sight of the former alpha kneeling before at a table, arms restrained behind his back and raised to sit on the table – a stress position. The scent of pain, lust and Stiles still permeated the enclosed space. The twins took one look at each other before jumping into action, one taking care of Derek and the other pulling out his phone to call Scott.