Chapter Text
Stiles tucked the gun he had just used to finally get back at the old bastard who had beaten him black and blue back into his pants. He didn’t intend on using it again. He let out a relieved sigh and turned to the others who had wronged him.
Allison and Scott were both squirming, struggling against their bonds and Allison was letting out a seriously obnoxious scream underneath the gag in her mouth. Stiles wished there was a way to put them on mute until he needed them. Chris merely stared straight away, seeming shocked. He was the best of a bad bunch, really. His crimes were not as bad as the others’, but he still needed to answer for what he had helped do to Boyd and Erica. For what he hadn’t done when Gerard had been beating Stiles: stop him.
“Ooooh Peeeteeeer!” Stiles sing-songed loudly, knowing that Zombie Wolf was in hearing distance. (What he didn’t know is that the man wasn’t alone.)
The undead werewolf sashayed into the room from wherever he had been, likely watching as Stiles laid into the family Peter hated. He smiled at all of them, showing the intimidating fangs he had let drop; those finally shut Allison up.
“Yes dear?” The man was impeccably dressed, despite the fact that Stiles knew he had taken the time after kidnapping the Argents and Scott to slowly slash Gerard up. He hadn’t even bothered to drug the old man like he had the others, just been sure to catch the experienced hunter entirely unawares as he was headed to bed. Hell, the old bastard was still wearing flannel pajamas. He also had smelled faintly of piss when Zombie Wolf had dragged him into the abandoned warehouse, letting him hit every corner they turned down. Stiles was pretty sure it wasn’t Gerard who had pissed himself, but the wolf taking the humiliation a step further.
“Peter, would you be a peach and take care of this nasty old corpse for me? You can dispose of him however you prefer since the fucker definitely doesn’t deserve a proper burial. Personally, I think burning would be the most appropriate, don’t you? I’d recommend displaying him in the town square, but I’d rather not have my dad have to deal with the paperwork, you know?”
Peter’s grin widened. “Of course, Stiles, I’d be happy to burn the bastard. I only wish you’d left him a little bit alive so he could feel it happen like my wife did. Like my daughter did.”
At this, his expression shifted to the most intimidating glare Stiles had seen in a long time and he turned it on Chris Argent, who visibly flinched. Good. Let him remember. Let him drown in pain and guilt and misery for what his family did to the Hales, for what he didn’t stop, and for what he himself has done to the few remaining members of the family.
Peter grabbed a heavy chain from the corner and wrapped it around Gerard’s neck, whistling ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead’ from the Wizard of Oz as he worked. He used the chain to drag the corpse behind him as he walked out of the room, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the floor in his wake. Stiles chuckled and turned back to his captured prey.
“Now, back to you guys.” Allison had tears running down her face, but Scott seemed to have regained his courage because he began snarling and wriggling more forcefully. “Oh, don’t bother Scott. Those ropes are infused with mountain ash and soaked in wolfsbane. Why do you think they burn so much? I know more about werewolves than you do. Which brings us to our next act in this play I’ve written.” Stiles moved more a bit closer to his ex-friend and crouched down in front of him.
“Get. The Fuck. Over. Yourself.”
Scott stopped snarling and looked at him, clearly angry, but also confused.
“All you care about is Allison. You were willing to risk becoming an Alpha after a month of being a werewolf, you were so desperate to stick your dick into her! You didn’t care that the odds were completely against you being ‘cured’, that you’d likely just end up on a killing spree because you had absolutely no control and weren’t ready for that kind of power! You would be taking away Derek’s last chance to have a part of his mother, his sister, always with him, to have the Alpha Spirit that had been in the Hale family for hundreds of fucking years! But hey, who the fuck cares, right?! It doesn’t matter as long as Scott McCall gets laid!” Stiles didn’t hear the small whimper come from somewhere on the loft that looked over the large warehouse he’d chosen to teach this lesson; none of them did. But it quietly echoed through the space the moment he brought up Laura and Talia Hale.
“Since you got oh-so-‘tragically’ bitten by Peter that night in the woods, you have been nothing but a whiny, self-obsessed, stupid asshole who can’t even seem to crawl out of Allison’s pants long enough to realize when the people you supposedly care about are about to be killed!”
Stiles was so angry with Scott, he was practically snarling himself despite being human. “I almost had to cut off Derek’s arm because you were too busy with Allison. Derek had to fend off Hunters by himself because you just had to skip school and spend the day in the woods with Allison. I had to hold up Derek in the school pool for two goddamn hours while the kanima circled it, waiting for any chance to kill us. And you know, I shouldn’t have had to do that. It could have been prevented.” Stiles leaned in closer to Scott and whispered, “Do you remember how?”
Scott was gagged still, but even so, he didn’t try to respond. He just started at Stiles, obviously startled by the amount of vitriol in his former friend’s voice. Stiles stared back, searching the beta’s eyes for any sign of recognition. Finding none – of fucking course not – he scoffed and leaned back again.
“Yeah, I thought not. I fucking called you, you self-centered dick! I called you and you hung up on me! Because You. Were. With. Allison. Well, you’re with her again now. Aren’t we having so much fun!” Stiles was wearing a grin, but there was rage sparkling in his amber colored eyes.
“And then there was your even bigger betrayal. Working with Gerard fucking Argent. Sacrificing Derek to him all because he promised you the chance to get back into Allison’s good graces, to get back into her fucking pants. What was it he called her again? Oh yeah. ‘The ultimate prize.’ Apparently ultimate enough to throw all of your loyalties out the window along with those morals you claim to cling to so tightly. Because it didn’t matter to you that Derek would die, that his pack would be tortured. That the man you were allied with dragged me into his basement and showed me Erica and Boyd, strung up as they were electrocuted before he proceeded to beat me until my face looked like ground beef.” Scott flinched then, but Stiles really didn’t give a damn anymore.
“The best part is it was all for fucking nothing, wasn’t it Scott? Because that skirt you were so desperately chasing, like a fucking dog chases a car, didn’t even want you back. Allison called werewolves ‘monsters’. And despite your best efforts, you are a werewolf. So, I got the shit beat out of me for nothing. You let the Argents have Erica and Boyd for nothing. And you almost sacrificed Derek, who despite his harshness, truly did nothing but try to help you, even called you his brother, for fucking nothing.”
The grin was gone from Stiles’s face at this point. He stood from his crouch and glared down at Scott; the fire in his eyes could melt steel. “Try that again and I’ll destroy you, years of friendship or no. Derek doesn’t deserve any of the things you’ve done to him.” He looks at Chris and Allison. “None of the things that any of you have done to him.”
At this point, Allison starts vehemently protesting behind her gag and the funny part is, she’s so damn predictable that Stiles knows exactly what she’s trying to rant about. But he’ll get to her in due time.