Screaming In The Dark

Stiles is about 74% on the loading bar for feeling okay. The hunter drug is, for the most part, pumped out of his bloodstream, which he is convinced is because of all the sweating he has been doing: his shirt is clinging to him, and he doesn't even want to talk what's going on with his underwear. Plus, it is a pleasant ride in the black SUV this time. This is encouraging Stiles thinks; he is only bonked in the head once by one of the oafs for saying his soul patch is lacking the "soul" part. Lydia is inanimate the entire time they bounce around like being in a funhouse. She is practically mimicking Jackson's dead possum impersonation. He is just praying her long nails don't sharpen anymore into claws.

It is easy to tell where they are going when the car jumps over the road and starts to crunch leaves and dirt. The woods. Stiles doesn't know why he is surprised when they roll up to the front yard of Derek's rotting house, but nonetheless, he gapes a little bit he sees several hunters stalking around the perimeter.

"Derek…" Stiles mouths, crawling out of the SUV with the help of a less then friendly shove from one of the oafs. Stiles is just happy that Ogre was driving. "So this is your master plan, huh? Secure the werewolf home base and catch them off guard?" Stiles and Lydia are directed toward the house. Stiles is sincerely disturbed when Lydia doesn't make a peep about her designer flats collecting mud as they cross over it to the stairs.

"You're really on your A game, Allison. This is quite the scheme you've got cooked up here. But, I'll let you in on a secret. Just because Scott thinks a little more with his dick instead of his head when it comes to you: this," Stiles gestures to the entire house when they get on the porch, Allison standing on the stair behind them, "this isn't going to work. Team Werewolf no longer holds meetings here. You're just wasting your time. And mine, quite frankly." This sounded a lot harsher out of his mouth than in his head, but it had the desired effect of making Allison scowl.

"I'd beg to differ, Mr. Stilinski." Gerard makes a grand entrance at the front door, decked out in hunting gear and a smirk.

"Oh, well -"

"Come on inside, we did a little hunting before you arrived. See what we caught." Gerard gestures welcoming like he owned the place. Stiles sneers at him but his heart starts to hammer. Oh God-

"Derek!" He gasps, knocking his toe on a warped floor board. He stumbles, his bad leg lets go of his weight, and his knees meet the hard wood panels. His palms catch a few splinters, but that doesn't matter. Jesus Christ, Derek is strung up by chains drilled up into the ceiling. Probably with enough forced Derek could break it if not for the hunter's choice silencer – electric rods jammed into his sides. He is sweaty and grimy, not that that's unusual, but he is panting and bruised and bleeding. Okay, so, again not like any of that is unusual for the Alpha, but the chains and rods are new. Stiles doesn't like them. At least not in this context.

"Derek!" He scrambles up and knobs over, reaching up without quite planning to and grabs at Derek's face. "You good?"

"Golden," Derek grunts. His teeth are pinching and it is not from controlled aggression.

"Not sure I like this new look on you."

Derek huffs, "don't like the chains? Thought you were into that kind of stuff."

"Personally, I'd prefer a leash and a whip, but we'll look into that later." Stiles pivots, keeping a palm on Derek's sweaty shoulder. "So, didn't know you were into this kinky stuff, Grandpa."

"Mr. Stilinski, your mouth could use some more training. I had hoped that Mr. Gordon's lesson had sated any need you had to smart off." Gerard strides toward them with Alison heeling closely behind.

"Well, dogs can be trained. Wolves can't." Stiles snubs.

"You think so? Scott learned pretty quickly that when I called, he'd come," Allison smirks. "It's amazing what a little persuasion can do." She seeks permission from Gerard. Old bastard nods once, acting like he is the mastermind of some grand scheme. Stiles steels when Allison starts toward him and Derek. Even so, Stiles wouldn't be opposed to Scott or hell, even Isaac to turn up any time soon. Lydia is still standing there like a zombie doll next to the Ogre. This makes Stiles crabby in two ways.

"How about we have a demonstration?" Allison is over by an evil little box with a knob. Before Stiles can get his lips apart, Derek is jerking, and Stiles can hear his skin sizzling from the electric current. The current bites at his hand, and he is forced to pull away. He watches Derek hold back a shout and writhe as the rods shock his core.

"Hold on, hold on! What are you doing, stop Allison!" Stiles panics, rushing over to her. A hunter with a knife stops him but Allison also stops. Derek gasps and chokes, his chains rattle and spark unpleasantly.

"What the hell is the matter with you? What the hell happened to you?" Stiles flails at her, "who are you anymore?"

"You can blame him, your mate. He did this to me! To my family! He killed Kate and my mother! Just think of who else he's hurt! You want this monster to seriously live?"

"This again? Seriously? I could say the same thing about Kate, she killed his family. And your 'Grandpa' here, I'm sure he's quite the saint too until we open up his skeleton closet! What did he tell you to make you do this?"

"Shut up, we didn't bring you here to talk." She waves at two hunters that enter the room on cue, "move it."

They walk over and tug at the board underneath where Derek is hanging quietly. He doesn't even flinch as they work. He just dangles there like a limp piece of attractive meat.

"What are you doing?" Stiles is detained by the hunter with the knife.

The hunters wrench away the board to expose a massive hole. It looks a little weird until Stiles leans in to see what is at the bottom.

Peter.

"Jesus!" Stiles hobbles back.

"Curious, isn't it?" Gerard finally speaks up, moving out of the shadows where he disappeared into. "These monsters are hard to kill. But for once, the demon at the crossroads is a welcoming sight. Now Stiles, here's your moment." The old man damn near apparates next to Stiles before he can blink. If Stiles didn't know any better he would have thought Gerard was a dementor.

"You enjoyed your glory at the lacrosse game, didn't you? Well, here is your moment to seize a greater glory." His snatches up Stiles's arm and takes the knife from the hunter.

"I'd rather subject myself to an actual glory hole than have anything to do with your 'glory.' So suck on that, old man."

"Let him go, Gerard." Derek's voice spooks everyone.

"Well now, the great Alpha whimpering? It looks like our youngest hunter doesn't quite know how to properly use the electrifier." Gerard glances at Allison, "but I appreciate the passion."

"Let him go, he's got no part in any of this." Derek strains.

"I'd like to think I have a little part in this," Stiles peeps.

"Stiles is right, Derek." Gerard yanks Stiles toward him, "your uncle would agree as well." The knife splits the skin on Stiles's arm deeply. He yells and tries to jerk away but Gerard drags him over to the hole, positions his arm over it, and squeezes it.

"Ow, ow, ow! Dude, that hurts!" The bloods drips down into it until Gerard seems satisfied.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Gerard?" Derek growls down at him, swinging a few feet away.

"A little sorcery, if there was any other name for it."

"That's- alright then. Resurrecting the Dark Lord Voldemort, are we?" Stiles winces as the blood dredges out. "Blood of the enemy?"

"Nothing at all like that. Boys," the old man croaks, moving Stiles from the hole and keeping him still. A couple of hunters come over with a fresh set of chains that have Stiles's unwilling name written all over them.

"Now, do we really need those?" Gerard suddenly says, regarding at Stiles as if he gets to make the decision.

"Naw, I don't think so, do you gentlemen?" Stiles quickly responds, gracing the hunters with a pleasant smile.

"I think Mr. Stilinski will be most corporative, isn't that right?" Gerard nods at one of the hunters and steps back.

"Oh, definitely." Stiles is seized from behind by the nodded-at hunter who is the size of a mountain troll and is hauled up by his wrists. His cut arm stings him in lack of appreciation from the treatment. It is a little weird and more than uncomfortable as he dangles in the hold of the mountain troll who shuffles him over in front of Derek. Luckily, he is minding the hole. This would have been so much easier if they had left the board over the hole before doing all this. But, the hunters aren't quite that smart, Stiles supposes.

"Hey." Stiles greets Derek who is suddenly very close. "How's it hanging?"

"Shut up." Derek growls as another hunter comes over to secure Stiles to the shackles holding Derek in place.

"What-" Derek gripes as Stiles is let go and smacks into him. They hang face to face over the hole, held up by the chains that moan a little from the weight. "What the hell is this?"

"Called it, Gerard's a kinky bastard." Stiles gets out before he and Derek knock each other in the face with their faces. "Ow. All over."

"Grandpa, seriously, what are you doing? I don't understand what you're thinking. We didn't talk about this." Allison is asking all the right questions. She power walks away from the circuit box and toward them. "We were going to kill them!"

"And we will. Patience, Allison." Gerard motions, "we have an opportunity here. Let's take it."

Allison looks disgusted, "why, from these monsters-?"

"-Comes power." Gerard glances over at Lydia, still all possessed looking. She starts to move with purpose, though. The other hunters just study as she starts arranging what appear to be other mirrors from what Stiles can tell from the mirror stationed beyond Derek's shoulder. "You must learn that opportunities come in many forms. At times, you must thrust your hands into the fire to seize them."

"You're hands better not be thrusting anywhere near me, that's for sure." Stiles says, making a face at Derek, who bares his teeth half-assedly back at him.

Allison scoffs, sounding greatly confused and aimless. However, it doesn't matter because things start moving a lot quicker than Stiles can keep up with.

"It would be said, 'I will take the head stone from my shoulders and rise from my tomb. Pierced by the gaze of the full moon, I will be sown back together by the seams of its light.'" Gerard rehearses as he circles around the hole and stands behind Derek. He catches Stiles's critical look briefly before putting a knife in Derek's back. He inhales painfully, slamming into Stiles.

"Derek!" Stiles rumbles from the impact, and they start to swing. "Dude, what the fuck's your problem?" He yells at Gerard simpering behind Derek. The Alpha's head in wedged into the narrow space between Stiles's neck and his raised arm. Right where his bite is. He coughs harshly into the nook, and Stiles feels liquid warmth. Gerard steps aside and the stationed mirror shines brightly into Stiles's face. He flinches from the light and squeezes his eyes shut. "What the-?"

Suddenly, hands reach up and claw into both Derek's and Stiles's legs. Stiles yelps and thrashes, because it's his bad leg, and fuck, it hurts. Derek just grunts as he plucks his head from Stiles's neck. They swing precariously as the dead arms of Peter hold on for dear life, quite literally. There is a hush in the room, deadly and tense, and then like the swell of a storm, the earth under Derek and Stiles starts to rumble and the great, dead, and dirty Peter begins to exit the hole he was condemned to, using the two boys as handles. Stiles cries louder this time now that the flesh is really starting to tear. Derek growls and does a poor excuse of an attempt to shake his uncle off of him. It fails. Peter crawls out in all of his naked and filthy glory. He thrusts himself into a standing position in front of Derek and Stiles. Stiles can see his naked ass in the mirror behind Derek when it swings into view.

Peter cracks his neck sickeningly and brushes the dirt out of his hair and off his arms. "What the welcoming committee. I'm honored."

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Peter." Gerard says like they are old buddies. It is weird and makes Stiles's skin itch. Luckily, he is not alone because the other hunters in the group shuffle with audible nervousness.

"Why thank you, Gerard. Might I ask for some pants of some sort?"

Gerard motions to a hunter with some hunting gear. He scuttles over, drops the clothes on the floor, and returns back to the safety of his previous spot.

Peter makes a funny little laugh and slips into the clothing.

"Gran-" Allison meekly starts.

"What a strange situation this is. Surrounded by hunters but not a pointed gun or notched arrow in sight. And the patriarch of the family standing before me with a friendly smile? Being woken was certainly worth it. And my dear Lydia-"

Stiles shifts, trying to crane his neck so he can actually see and not have to rely on an unreliable mirror.

"What a wonderful host you've been." Stiles watches him cup Lydia's face with both of his slimy hands and plant a disgusting kiss on her forehead. She gasps and looks normal again. And if not a little freaked out.

Stiles is in full swinging mode, until Derek groans painfully. Stiles glances at him and then double-takes to see Derek is washed-out and a bit peaky. Stiles's anger is replaced with anxiety. It's hard to imagine worst, but Derek looks ready to fill the hole left by Peter.

"Derek, man, now would be a really good time not to check out."

Derek mumbles something unintelligent.

"Dude," Stiles nudges Derek's cheek with his nose. "Der-"

"My dear nephew!" Peter is moving quickly toward them. "Can we do something about these chains, gentlemen?"

The hunters hesitate until Gerard scowls at them. They flock around Stiles and Derek, return the board back over the hole, and work Stiles down from the chains first. They more or less let him drop. He stumbles when his numb and battered legs hit the flooring, and then he just plain tips over. Ah, solid ground. Stiles does not even care. It felt good not to be suspended like a slaughtered pig ready for processing. He does not lay there long before Derek hits the ground next to him. He twitches and then remains still on his side.

"I see 'gentle' isn't a part of your repertoire." Peter comments.

"What the hell is going on? Stiles!" Lydia's back. She lunges toward him, but is interrupted by Allison. She isn't fooling anyone by the look on her face: warranted anger and confusion.

"Allison, what's going on? Why are you helping them?" Lydia grabs her hand. Her hair is a nest and her eyes are glossy.

Allison yanks, "I could be asking you the same question. They're not to be… trusted." She says this will less conviction as she and Gerard make eye contact. He does not say anything but his jaw ripples as if daring Allison to continue. She does not.

"So, you've brought the crazy uncle back from the dead," Stiles huffs as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Congratulations. Now you can be crazy-relative b.f.f.s." He sets his hand on Derek's shoulder and shakes him. Derek does not move.

"Dear Stiles, I can't say I've been yearning to see you again." Peter smiles at him.

"The feeling's mutual, don't worry." Stiles tries to arouse Derek more urgently, "come on Derek, you had one job. Rip this creep's throat out."

Peter strokes his neck, "yes, he did quite a fine job of that." He makes a face, "but, not quite good enough, however. Thank goodness for that!"

"I would agree. I hope." Gerard ambles up next to Peter. Together they look down at Derek and Stiles. Like the Two Towers. All they need is one big, fiery eye, and Stiles's will be convinced they are in Middle Earth.

"Rest assured, my temporary friend." Peter and Gerard glance at each other before returning to looming like the menaces that they are.

"So, got a big plan do we? Some big, evil plan? I'm just so proud of you two. The two super villains teaming up against the good guys because they can't win on their own." Stiles is damn near rattling Derek. Would this dude just wake the hell up? Now is definitely not the time for beauty sleep. Derek moans and shifts finally. He shakes his head slowly and places and elbow under his side, jacking himself up.

"Wha-?"

"We have a problem."

"Gerard- Peter!" Derek is finally catching up with the program. Stiles is not going to complain this time.

"Derek, you look well. Well, sort of. You've looked worst." Peter crouches down, "thank you."

"For what?"

"For this," he motions to the invisible tether between Stiles and Derek, ""I will take the head stone from my shoulders and rise from my tomb. Pierced by the gaze of the full moon, I will be sown back together by the seams of its light.' That is a line from an ancient ritual, where the blood of an Alpha mixed with its mate under the face of a full moon can summon back the corpse of an Alpha. It's funny how fate works sometimes, isn't it?" Peter is all smiles. Stiles wants to individually punch each smile off his stupid face.

"I look at it as another opportunity to kill you again." Derek grits out, spitting blood at Peter's bare feet.

"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Derek scoffs.

"Really now," Peter stands, "I think you could really use my help. I mean, look around you," he gestures to the crowd of hunters, "you really don't look like you have everything under control."

"Good thing I don't give a shit about what you think." Derek attempts to push himself up more. Stiles helps him, getting his hand soaked in the blood drowning the fibers of his shirt.

"Oh, come now. We are family."

"What do you know about family?" Stiles and Derek use each other's solidness to haul themselves up into an awkward standing position. Stiles's is holding Derek like he did when Derek was succumbing to Jackson's paralysis venom. Oh, the memories. Just more blood. And Stiles's bad leg is shaking like a leaf under him. Oh, and he is pretty sure his arm is going to fall off.

"I would say more than you. But I can't be for sure, what do you think Allison?"

Everyone turns to her for a response. She flushes from the sudden redirection of attention, but quickly her face darkens.

"You butchered my family."

Derek huffs, "yet you seem to forgotten that your family killed mine!"

"Old wounds Derek. There was a time I had hoped you would have learned." Gerard pipes in.

"Me? You are going to blame me for-"

"For what? Killing My daughter, the woman you used to care about?" Gerard's eyes sharpen.

"Don't presume my feelings. I never cared for that bitch."

"I'm sure, but such were those moments when you would arrive at our door with your eyes sparkling like a starving man feasting his eyes on a rich apple tree. How I could have driven knifes into your skull for looking at my daughter like that." Gerard's jaw twitches.

"Doesn't mean I cared for her, maybe I just wanted to get into her pants." Derek digs. Stiles shifts awkwardly under the weight of Derek.

"Then is that the only realize you gave her the key to your home? So that she could crawl into bed with you filthy mutt?" Gerard spits out.

"How could you talk your own daughter like that? You old asshole!" Stiles appalls. "Hell, I don't like her and I feel bad. Well, only a little bit, but it's more than I'd ever thought I could feel for that crazy bitch."

"It's because this man lost his compassion, if he ever had any. I suppose not after what you did to your daughter-in-law. No one with any remnants of compassion could have done what you made her do." Derek glances at Stiles and then full-on glares at Gerard.

"How dare you," Allison steps from out her shadow that she slunk back into. Lydia is still caught up in the darkness behind her; her eyes like shiny saucers freshly pulled from the dishwasher. "How dare you! It was your fault!"

"My fault? Why don't you ask Scott what really happened that night." Derek growls.

"What?" Allison loses her arrogance.

"That's right, or maybe your sweet grandfather over here would like to tell you." Derek pales and drops a little more of his weight onto Stiles's side.

"Now, Allison, are you really going listen to this guy?" Peter adds in, picking grave dirt from under his nasty finger nails. Allison visibly tenses up when the dead werewolf walks near her. "After all, he is the Mother Killer."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek snarls weakly. He takes a few meaningful breathes and picks himself up. Stiles's leg is happy about this.

"Exactly what it means, my dear nephew, if you were just smart enough to figure it out for yourself. You've taken Allison's beloved mother away from her and even your own mother. Locked down in that basement with the walls scorching like the insides of an oven. I remember her screaming for you. I couldn't hear her, but I wonder what she was saying. I wonder if it's something you'd want to know." Peter smirks, flicking away some of the collected dirt. "Stiles, you know what it's like to lose your mother, am I right? To have her taken from you. Allison must be a reminder of the time you lost yours."

"If you are looking for a sob story where Allison and me bond over the loss of our mothers, you aren't getting one. Sorry, pal." Stiles growls, not at all amused.

"But, truly, how was your mother stolen from this world. What took her from you?"

"Is this why you actually brought me here? So I could tell you my life story?" Stiles is all hackles. Derek glimpses down at him.

"I just want to get to know the mate of my nephew; you are part of the family now. And I'm sure Allison wouldn't mind knowing that there is someone else here that shares in her pain. What do you say, Gerard?" Peter says like he is trying to be good-natured.

"I think we have time for a quick story. The ritual has been completed, and I don't think your friends with be joining us anytime soon." Gerard responds, clasping his hands behind his back like that was his way of getting comforting

"She was sick for a while and she died. Lots of tears. Crippling pain. But we moved on. The end."

"Very touching, I think I have a tear here." Peter wipes his eye, "nope just some dirt."

"Y'know, I was planning on killing Gerard first once I got out of those chains, but I think I'll rip open your throat again, dear uncle." Derek grimaces, "and this time. I'll make sure you stay dead."

Peter laughs like Derek just told a joke. See, that within itself is funny because Derek, telling a joke? Ha. But Peter sincerely thinks it's funny and goes over to stand within inches of Derek's personal space. "What was she sick from?" He asks Stiles while looking at Derek. Stiles hesitates before answering because he may not be Peter's target, but Peter is still within too many feet of Stiles's personal space.

Stiles finally replies, "it was an infection."

"An infection?" Gerard enters stage left, "infections are a terrible thing. An enemy that manifests everywhere. So much suffering. I suppose your mother suffered tremendously."

"You supposed right." Stiles bites.

"They couldn't stop it?" Gerard furrows his eyebrows.

"No, obviously. Everything they tried, every test they did, and every stupid antibiotic and liquid medicine they could figure didn't work." Stiles says as Derek shifts the both of them back and out of the Peter danger zone.

"What a tragedy," Peter laments. "How did your mother obtain such a detriment to her health?"

"I-I don't remember. It was a long time ago. How it-it happened doesn't matter because it happened." Stiles's chest constricts uncomfortably.

"But it is how we learn, grow. If we ignore the causations we will succumb to a repeating result every time. Now, was it another disease, indigestion of tainted sustenance, an injury?" Gerard contemplates, "a cut or bite, perhaps?"

The way Gerard says the last suggestion gets Stiles's sweat pores a little worked up. "Yes, she was bit." The hunters in the room shift, stepping on pockets of tension.

"Bit by what? Gerard prods.

"An animal." Oh yeah, the sweat pores are definitely stimulated, but not in a good way.

"What kind of animal was she bit by?"

"A dog." Stiles heart is squeezed by his restricting chest.

Peter scoffs as Gerard slithers at Stiles, "was it a dog?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there." Stiles's ears feel a little funny, they sound like he is in a wind tunnel.

"Where did it happen?" Gerard is in front of him.

"The w-woods."

"When?"

"It- it was late."

"Stiles…" Derek is a quiet, little voice beside him.

"What was your mother doing out in the woods at night, Mr. Stilinski?"

"I don't know, it's- it's doesn't matter anymore-" Definitely can't feel his toes anymore. Or anything.

"What was she doing out there, Stiles?"

"I-"

"Who was she looking for?"

"I- no-"

"She was looking for you, wasn't she?"

"No- yes, but-" Stiles's heart is pounding like his fists against a confining wall.

"Stop it-" Derek is barely heard.

"What were you doing out in the woods at night Stiles? You must have been so small then, so young. She must have been so worried when she saw your bed empty and the backdoor ajar. Is that why your mother was out, was she looking for you?" Peter is moving into the open space next to Gerard, his arms also folded behind his back and his eyes dark.

"Yes- she-" Stiles fights out of Derek's hold.

"She was hurt trying to find you." Peter states.

"I- I-"

"Stiles, stop." Derek is trying to get him back.

"No- you, you weren't there- you, you have no idea what the hell happened that night." Stiles swipes his hand in front of him, dismissing the accusations.

"But that's what happened, didn't it." Peter looks at Gerard.

"Yes." Gerard smiles.

"Bastard, leave him alone!" Derek's voice chips at the void between Gerard and Stiles.

"I remember that night. We were leaving town, Kate and I, after spending the week for Alison's 10th birthday. If I can recall, the police station had a lot of activity – the sheriff's son was missing. All I could think was, 'it's a full moon, and a young boy is alone in woods with those monsters yearning for a bloodbath?'" Gerard's face wrinkles, and his legs start to pace. "So Kate and I, and several others we set out. We couldn't let Beacon Hills suffer such a tragedy. Not where my only granddaughter was going to grow up." He looks at her. Her lips are parted almost like words are struggling to get out but can't get passed her teeth. Behind her is a crumbled Lydia, cheeks streaked with streams of mascara. The gloss of her lips has lost its sheen.

"We scouted every inch of that woods. Combed over every log and hiding place a child could have crawled into." Gerard shook his head, "we couldn't find you." Old eyes rest on Stiles pressed up against the stationed mirror he had scoured earlier.

"But, we found her." They wander over to Derek hunched over and keeping an arm around his waist to hold himself together. His express refuses to show anything under the weight of Gerard's prying gaze. "She was a mess. Her leg was – beyond what we could do for her. You're father arrive shortly after."

Stiles is at the point of hyperventilation but nothing is coming out. It keeps building up in his chest and damming up at the base of his throat. This. Cannot…

"When- when was this?" Peter pinches the bridge of his nose, "I-" He sighs.

"February 13th, 2006."

Peter throws his hands up in the air in celebration. "I remember! Like an itch," he rubs his arm, "I thought this sound so familiar. How about you, Derek?"

Derek's head jolts up from inspecting his injuries. Eyes wide and breath short, "wha-?"

"You were there. Remember?"

Stiles mouths an echo of his words. Derek cranes his neck at the sound of Stiles's intake of air. They make eye contact. It is brittle and hesitant.

"Why don't you tell us what you remember? It was your big night; the first hunt." Peter grins, catching up some of the moonlight falling through the holes in the ceiling in his hand.

"The first kill."

BOOM! Finally this beast is done. This chapter eluded me more than I care to admit. The thought of Stiles's mom sorta manifested one night, and I had to make something of it.

Action in the next round!

I am thinking about a couple of more chapters until the ending! Wowsters.

Btw - WTF is up with the teacher and Derek? No.