Chapter 15

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Stiles woke with a pounding headache, eyes squinting in the dim room. It was dusty but he could smell the fresh air like a drug, drowning out the ache in his forehead.

"You're awake." Stiles looked up at Peter, dressed casually but standing tall with a air of superiority that made him want to bite him in the hind like a real dog. Maybe punch that smile off his face.

"Drink." Stiles glared at the water, more specifically the hand offering it to him. He turned his nose up at it like a child. "Fine. Be that way." Derek grumbled. The tone made Stiles want to bite his dick off. That was probably the crush and the anger clashing to be honest.

"I'm glad you're awake, Stiles. Afraid you died."

"Piss off, you'd probably do a little jig at my death." Stiles should probably reel in his big mouth, but he couldn't help himself.

"Mm, I would, but you're useful. Three makes a pack after all." Peter grinned, crouching down. Stiles internally winced at the burns. "I know, the face is rather horrid. I was so handsome before." Peter sighed with mourning.

"I'll take that with a grain of salt." Stiles muttered.

"Oh no, really. I was a lady killer. Wasn't I, Derek?" Peter turned to Derek who refused to answer, brooding and watching the pair. "You haven't changed." Peter muttered. "Stiles, tell me, how does it feel to be packless? It's lonely, isn't it?" Stiles did feel lonely. And sad. And fucking furious. What was his question again? A stupid one at best.

"I have non-werewolf friends, I'm not lonely because I 'don't have a pack'. I'm not an actual wolf." Stiles spat.

"Lies. I can tell when you're lying, Stiles. Now, again. Are you lonely without a pack?" Stiles refused to talk. It was a whole minute until he broke under Peter's stare. The dude didn't even blink.

"It wasn't when I had Derek. Derek is all the 'pack' I need...Was." He can see the tick his words do to Derek's jaw, slotting into place and teeth grinding no doubt. Guilt.

"I'm taking that away, Stiles. You can have that. All you have to do...is join me."

"No." Stiles says it without though. He looked to Derek, eyes desperate to see anything that could indicate Derek was still his friend, still the brooding good guy he knew with rough edges and dead panned humour. Derek showed nothing, looking to the ground and face blank. He was robotic and still. Not an ounce of constant anger came from him, and it scared Stiles that he wasn't angry. Derek was always a little bit angry. It was his anchor.

"Reconsider it, Stiles, you can have -"

"No." This time his answer is made of spite, eyes narrowed and defiant.

"Fine, fine... But first, I want you to see my side of things." Peter digs sharp claws into Stiles' nape, a gasp leaving the boy that made Derek step forward on instinct, to do something to help. He didn't move another inch as Stiles' eyes went glassy and wet as the fire replayed in his mind.

Fear. Pain. Fear. Pain. Fear and pain.

That all he could feel as Peter pulled the claws out, letting him run off into the woods surrounding the Hale property.

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