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Stiles heard about the stories of children going out past dark and never coming home. His own dad sometimes had to deal with those cases, forced to tell parents that they couldn’t find a trace of where their children went. But at least in those situations the parents could always be sort of hopeful. It was worse when there were clues clearly announcing that the children would never be coming home. Too much blood left at the crime scene, the kidnapper probably mortally wounded them and then disposed of the body elsewhere.
Stiles’ mom and dad always acted weird when those stories came up in the news, hugging him and telling him they loved him. It was exhausting. Those sorts of things rarely happened in Beacon Hills. Those stories generally stayed in the surrounding cities. Beacon Hills was too suburban and humdrum for anything like that. In fact, the only bad thing that ever happened in Beacon Hills was the Hale Fire, and that had been an accident.
Taking all these things into consideration, Stiles wasn’t about to let a cautionary tale like that stop him from playing with Scott in the woods. Anyway, it was only a cautionary tale. As in “proceed with caution.” His dad never explicitly said Stiles wasn’t allowed to do whatever he wanted. And at seven years old, Stiles and Scott felt pretty invincible.
Stiles clutched the hood of his jacket to his face. Earlier that day when Scott and Stiles had been forced to stay inside during recess because of the light rain, they both agreed that they needed more adventure in their lives. They had promised to meet later that night at a creek hidden in the forest, but that was before the torrential downpour started, and before it was so foggy that Stiles could barely see ten feet in front of him. It had only been misting when Stiles left his house, making as little noise as possible as his parents slept, but now it was raining hard.
His lack of an umbrella wasn’t helping matters. The two boys had switched jackets at recess, but Scott’s red jacket wasn’t exactly water repellant, and he was getting soaked through by the rain.
Stiles considered going back home a few times after slipping in the mud, but Scott would’ve waited all night for him to show up. They had pinky sworn, and pinky swears were serious business. There was also the possibility that Scott might get worried and walk the pathway all the way to Stiles’ house to make sure his best friend wasn’t hurt somewhere. So Stiles trudged along, his backpack becoming a heavy weight, and the basket he had filled with leftover Halloween candy occasionally slipping out of his fingers.
Stiles started walking faster, bracing himself each time he thought he might slip. His whole body was chilled down to the bone. His fingers were stiff, and it hurt every time he tried getting a better grip on the basket. If Scott was still at the creek when he arrived, Stiles would have to give him all of his Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups just to apologize for making him promise to sneak out in the middle of the night. Going out into the middle of the woods had been all Stiles’ idea, and he didn’t want Scott reconsidering their friendship based on one little mistake.
The pathway was muddier than normal, and Stiles’ rain boots kept sinking into it. It made it twice as hard to walk, and it was making him take even longer to get to the creek. He grunted when he finally got his feet unstuck.
Stiles frowned. They should’ve had a better meeting place, but he liked the creek best, and it was on a pathway that cut near both of the boys’ houses. As his feet got stuck once more, he heard a deep rumble. There hadn’t been any lightning, but the thunder was getting louder and louder. Warm air blew onto Stiles’ face, and when he looked up, he could see a monstrously large animal inches away from him.
Stiles flailed backward, and he started to scream before shoving a hand over his mouth. His mom had told him that if he ever saw a bear, to act normal and proceed as if the bear wasn’t even there. If he were to panic and run, he would be chased, and if he played dead, the bear might try to investigate and then actually accidentally kill him. Stiles took a deep breath, willing himself not to cry. This didn’t look like a bear.
Stiles held his breath as he looked down at the animals’ paws. The claws looked like something out of a horror movie, long and jagged. The creature was twice as tall as him, even as it crouched in front of him. As Stiles stared, he realized that everything looked intrinsically wrong about him. Even the animal’s fur looked like it shouldn’t be there.
Stiles slowly raised his eyes to stare at the animal’s face, heart skipping a beat when the animal huffed in his face. He averted his eyes back to the floor. This couldn’t possibly be a bear or a wolf or anything else Stiles could remember learning about. It was more like a nightmare—an evil ugly beast that probably ate children up whole. The animal sniffed Stiles’ face once before licking him, and Stiles was positive that he would be this animal’s dinner.
Stiles tightened his grip on his basket. The animal looked sort of like a wolf, if wolves were genetically altered with Rodents of Unusual Size. The animal circled him twice before biting down on Stiles’ backpack and picking him up. Stiles tried dragging his feet and slipping out, but the straps were too tight, and all of his attempts to flail around and unhook himself from his backpack were hopeless. He tried flinging some of the candy out of the basket in a makeshift bread trail, but the rain and the mud would probably cover it all up.
Stiles glanced around. They were near the creek, and if he called out, Scott would come help him. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t call out, couldn’t let his best friend get hurt by this creepy animal. Hopefully Scott would just give up waiting for him and walk home.
Stiles tried paying attention to where the animal was taking him, but it started going deeper and deeper into the forest. At one point the animal paused, and Stiles tried to regain circulation in his arms. He was lost, and all he could think about was running home and seeing his mom and dad. He was cold and wet and wanted hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup and dry clothes and warm blankets.
The animal paused and stuck out a paw, and after brushing away some leaves, it used a single claw to locate and open a trap door. Stiles watched in awe as bright light escaped from it, and the animal trudged down wooden stairs. It released Stiles, and he tried not to stumble down the steps. He glanced backward, but the animal pushed him forward. There was no way past him. Stiles held onto the railing, slowly walking until he heard a familiar voice in the underground room.
Scott sat huddled on the floor, and Stiles ran to him before sitting down and hugging him tightly. Both of them were covered in mud and their clothes were drenched. When they heard a creak on the stairs, they turned their heads toward it.
Stiles expected to see the animal, but instead he saw a man. The man’s clothes were dry, but he couldn’t possibly have been in the underground room before Stiles. Stiles blinked a few times, letting go of Scott to crawl on his hands and knees to see where the animal went. The animal couldn’t have turned around on the narrow stairwell…unless…
Stiles scrunched up his face. “What are you?”
The man’s lips quirked into a smile. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Stiles sat down on his knees, perplexed but more intrigued than anything.
“Stiles,” Scott hissed. He motioned for Stiles to come back, but the man was already standing in front of him.
“I’m sure you’re a clever enough boy. What do you suppose I am?”
Stiles’ eyes darted back at Scott, but the man placed a hand underneath Stiles’ chin and forced him to stand up. “Um,” Stiles pursed his lips. “A werewolf?”
The man let go of him and pet Stiles’ head. “Very good.”
“Werewolves don’t exist,” Scott blurted out.
The man frowned at Scott. “Then what do you think just happened?”
“I don’t know,” Scott mumbled. He hugged his legs closer to his stomach, pleading with his eyes for Stiles to step away from this stranger. Stiles did, but more because the man kept staring at him in a way that didn’t make him feel good. The way the stranger stared at him hungrily, eyes not blinking and gaze too intense, made Stiles feel nauseous.
Stiles sat down, wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulders. It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. The entire underground room was made of wood, and it looked hastily built. Stiles kept thinking about the mud and worms that might try to ooze into the room, but it was warm compared to the cold outside. The whole place was covered in candles, with only one battery powered fluorescent lamp high on a shelf. The dim yellow light made Stiles feel like he was in another world.
“You’ll freeze to death if you keep those clothes on,” the man informed them. “Take them off.”
“No,” Scott snapped. His teeth chattered and he was shaking worse than Stiles, but it didn’t stop him from glaring.
Their kidnapper shook his head as he looked at Stiles. “Well?”
Stiles glanced at Scott. It was warm in here, but he had a feeling they might die whether he was clothed or not. And at the moment, dying from wet clothes was the least of his concerns. “Uh, we appreciate your concern, but no thanks.” Scott had the right idea. They definitely weren’t going to take off their clothes just because someone told them. Especially if the person telling them to do so was a creepy werewolf. Stiles glared at their kidnapper, only looking away when he heard Scott’s breath hitch.
“Scott?”
Before Scott could answer, Stiles started patting down Scott’s pockets to find his friend’s inhaler, panicking when he couldn’t find anything. Scott’s chest kept tightening, and Stiles finally noticed him pointing at their kidnapper.
Stiles stood up, fists clenched when the man smiled. “Where is it?” He punched the man’s leg once, blinking back tears and cradling his fist to his stomach when he hit solid muscle. “Give me his inhaler,” Stiles choked.
“Take off your clothes,” the man replied calmly.
This time Stiles didn’t object—he couldn’t if he wanted Scott to stay alive. He started taking off his jacket and shoes first. His fingers and toes felt like they were frozen, but he undressed as quickly as possible. When he was down to his underwear, he glanced over at Scott, still wheezing on the floor, but still alive. The man pressed the inhaler into Stiles’ hands, and he rushed over to help Scott use it.
As soon as Scott could breathe again, he shook his head at Stiles. “Put your clothes back on,” Scott hissed. He grabbed Stiles’ shirt from the floor, but the man pulled it out of his hands. Stiles sat next to Scott, doing his best to not look as afraid as he was. At least he had Scott’s inhaler in case his best friend needed it again.
The kidnapper sat on his haunches in front of them. “Would you feel better if I introduced myself?” He smiled, and stuck out his hand. The two little boys looked at each either, but neither moved to return their kidnapper’s gesture. “I suppose some people don’t teach their kids manners,” he sighed. “But it’s alright. I’ll teach you.” His smile lingered on Scott for a long time. Scott’s hand clenched, but then he tried hiding his face against Stiles’ shoulder.
The man raised an eyebrow, but only turned his gaze to Stiles. He ran a hand up and down Stiles’ thigh before squeezing it. Stiles’ eyes widened. The man gave both of them one more smile. “I’m Peter.”
Stiles tried moving away, but Peter’s hand stayed firm. However, Stiles movement dislodged Scott, and his eyes darted up at Peter. “Fine,” Scott snapped. Scott stuck his hand out, and Peter took his hands off Stiles, but as soon as Peter was close enough, Scott pulled his hand away and spit directly into Peter’s face.
Peter wiped the spit off before glaring at Scott. “Let’s not be difficult,” Peter tsked.
“You’re such a freaking creep,” Stiles breathed.
Peter ignored him. Instead he started yanking Scott’s clothes off, ignoring his pleas to stop. When Scott was left in his underwear as well, he hunched over and curled up next to Stiles. Their parents had given them lectures about what kind of people to be careful around, and Peter definitely fit the list of awful, horrible people to avoid.
Peter tried talking to them, but Stiles and Scott said nothing. They both waited for a good opportunity to escape, but Peter’s fingers brushed over them, touching their faces, their arms, their legs. Stiles and Scott ignored him, pressing together for warmth and comfort.
Stiles wasn’t sure how long had passed when he heard the latch door open. At this point, he wasn’t sure who he was hoping would appear. His dad was a deputy and carried a gun, but Stiles certainly didn’t want his dad to see him like this. His dad would blame himself for the situation, and Stiles already felt guilty enough for everything—not listening to his parents, going out at night, putting Scott in danger.
Stiles sniffled, and Scott hugged him closer. Their moms would know what to do. They would yell at Peter and break his face and bundle Scott and Stiles up in blankets and carry them home.
However, instead of their moms coming to save them, a teenager appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He briefly looked terrified when he saw Scott and Stiles, but he schooled his face by the time Peter noticed him.
“Hello, Derek.”
Stiles squinted his eyes when he realized it was Derek Hale, but Stiles couldn’t decide if Derek’s presence made the situation better or worse. Stiles had seen Derek at the sheriff’s department a month ago, and he had overheard how nearly the entire Hale family had died in a fire, except Derek, Laura, and Derek’s uncle. Laura was in a coma, body covered in scars and had a slim chance of waking up, but Derek’s uncle was supposedly fine. Stiles looked between Derek and Peter, trying to spot a family resemblance.
Stiles tried blinking away tears. If Derek and Peter were related, would Derek even try stopping Peter?
Derek crossed his hands over his chest. “What are they doing here?”
Peter returned his gaze to the two boys, focusing intently on Scott. Despite Scott’s face being pressed into Stiles’ neck, Peter kept cupping his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Glad you could join us.”
Derek huffed when his question wasn’t answered. “What are you doing with these kids?” Stiles took a mental note of Derek’s anger, but he didn’t loosen his hold on Scott at all. Derek still didn’t seem trustworthy, angry or not.
“Betas.”
Derek’s scowl increased. “They’re kids. You can’t bite them.” Derek walked a few steps closer, examining Stiles and Scott, but in a completely different way than Peter. His eyes seemed to look for any signs of damage. When he couldn’t find anything immediately wrong, his shoulders released some tension.
“Actually, I can.” Peter turned his gaze on Derek, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’m the alpha.” When Peter turned back, he took his hand off of Scott. “This one,” he pointed at Scott, “is a bit stubborn, but he is strong and smart.” Peter carded a hand through Scott’s hair. “Even if he is a little naïve.”
Derek quirked an eyebrow but he didn’t say anything.
“And that one,” he pointed at Stiles, “is very clever. Pretty loyal, too, but much too impulsive. He has medication to deal with it, but I’m not sure how that’ll work with the bite,” Peter sighed.
Stiles gaped at him, grip momentarily loosened on Scott. Peter couldn’t possibly know about his medicine. Frowning, Stiles tilted his head. He had gotten his new medicine three weeks ago. His grades had improved and he was finally able to compete with Lydia Martin for the top grades in the class, but Peter couldn’t possibly have deduced any of that based on the last few hours in the underground room.
Stiles scrunched up his face as he stared at Peter. How long had Peter been watching them? Stiles’ eyes widened in horror as he realized the implications. “You’re crazy,” he blurted out. “You’ve been watching us. You- you.” Stiles stuttered to a stop.
“See?” Peter smiled lovingly at Stiles before cupping Stiles’ face with a hand. Stiles stayed frozen in place, but when Peter’s thumb brushed against Stiles’ bottom lip, Stiles reeled backward. “He’s very smart.”
When Stiles hugged Scott tighter, Peter frowned. “Don’t you want to be a werewolf?” He lightly gripped Stiles’ ankle. “You and Scott would both be in my pack. And you would both be stronger, faster, smarter. No more asthma attacks for Scott.” Peter’s grip tightened on Stiles. “Wouldn’t you want that for your best friend? No more having to worry about where his inhaler is.”
“I don’t want to be a werewolf,” Scott cried out, renewed sobs echoing in the underground room.
“But what if Stiles wants to be a werewolf?” Peter asked calmly.
Scott stopped hiding his face in Stiles’ neck, finally noticing Derek before he glared at Peter. “He doesn’t want to be a werewolf either,” Scott gritted out.
Peter glanced at Stiles. “Is that true?”
Stiles gulped once before nodding. “I don’t want to be like you.”
Derek’s eyes slightly widened while Peter smiled. “You know what I just heard right now? Your heart skipping over the words ‘I don’t want.’ See, Scott,” Peter continued, “your friend is only saying ‘no’ for your sake. But I can make him, you, and even your classmate, Lydia, all werewolves.” When Peter released Stiles’ ankle, Scott possessively tugged his best friend closer. “The bite is a gift, and you’re simply holding your friend back from his full potential.”
Stiles winced when Scott looked at him, but before they could discuss anything, Derek interrupted. “You can’t bite children,” he ordered.
“I can and I will.” Peter abruptly stood up and grabbed Derek’s arm. “Who got us into this mess in the first place?”
Derek averted his eyes, glaring at Scott and then Stiles instead of looking at Peter. “I did.”
“Right.” Peter let go of Derek as if annoyed to be around him.
“At least let them put their clothes back on,” Derek muttered.
“If the bite takes, they won’t want their clothes. They’ll feel like they’re on fire from the fever, and then we’ll have to remove the clothes for them.” Peter rolled his eyes, bristling as he explained this to Derek.
Derek clenched his fists at his side before taking a deep breath to calm down. “And if the bite doesn’t take?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “If letting them wear clothes will make you stand in line, fine. Give them their clothes.”
Derek picked up the pile of the boys’ clothes that had been kicked aside and dumped them in front of the two boys. Scott and Stiles didn’t bother figuring out whose clothes were whose, simply grabbing the first shirt they could and putting it on. However, Stiles managed to grab the jacket Scott let him borrow and yanked it on. Their clothes were still damp, but it was preferred over Peter’s prying eyes.
Stiles caught Derek staring at the ground, eyes looking like they were prickling with tears. When Derek realized he was being watched, he scowled at Stiles, but Derek’s voice still sounded broken when he started talking. “Why kids?”
“Easy to mold,” Peter replied. His jaw clenched as he slightly turned toward Derek. “And it would be against the hunters’ code to kill a child, right?”
Stiles and Scott watched the two men stare at each other. Some sort of unspoken exchange seemed to be happening, and Stiles grabbed Scott’s hand just in case. Without warning, Derek’s bones started rearranging and hair sprouted on his face. He kicked Peter in the stomach, but Peter barely moved. Another kick, and Peter went crashing into the small table in the underground room.
Derek turned toward the two boys. “Run.”
Stiles stood up quickly, dragging Scott away from the fight and up the stairs. They could hear bones and wood breaking, and as they opened the latch door, Stiles saw a few candles fall and start blazing inside the small wooden room. When Stiles pushed open the door, they tumbled outside.
“Shut the door!” Stiles yelled when Scott kept his hand on it.
“But what about Derek…”
“Let’s just get out of here.” Stiles yanked on his best friend’s hand to try to lead him away, but Scott still gripped the latch.
Stiles tried shoving the door closed again, but he didn’t want to leave Derek trapped in there as well. The whole ‘helping them get away’ thing was really clouding up Stiles’ judgment.
Stiles pouted as he tried to decide what to do, but Scott was adamant about not leaving Derek behind. When the door moved open, Stiles screamed, but it was only Derek pushing his way out. He shoved the two boys farther away and shut the door behind him.
Scott moved in front of Stiles. “Is he dead?”
Derek’s eyes slowly changed to red. “Yeah.”
Scott and Stiles exchanged a look. The rain had let up, and Derek walked closer to them. Stiles tugged on Scott’s jacket, but Derek pulled them closer and picked them both up in his arms, one boy on each side of his waist. But while Scott was willing to help Derek escape, that hadn’t meant they were suddenly friends. Scott punched Derek in the side of the head, squirming to get away. When Derek didn’t stop walking, Scott sighed. “Where are we going?”
“Home,” Derek replied. “I’m taking you both home to your parents,” he clarified.
“No, take us to Scott’s house,” Stiles demanded. He grabbed onto Scott’s sleeve while he wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck to hold on. “Please.”
Derek rolled his eyes but he changed direction. “Fine.”
Stiles rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “I lost all the candy, Scott,” he sighed mournfully.
“Huh?” Scott leaned over in order to see past Derek’s head.
“I brought you my Halloween candy, but I lost it,” Stiles explained.
“Oh.” Scott scrunched up his face before smiling. “I still have some of mine. We can share it.”
“It’s not the same,” Stiles sighed.
Scott reached over, doing his best to hug Stiles while Derek was in the middle. “It’s okay.”
The rain had stopped to barely a mist, but the two little boys pressed their faces against Derek’s shoulders, nuzzling it to keep their faces dry and warm. The rhythm of Derek’s walking was soothing, and they were lulled to sleep in the comfort that they were finally going home.