![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
justlurkinghereIt had taken Derek what was probably an embarrassing amount of time to work up the nerve to visit his uncle again. Even Laura hadn't been able to look at him in the state he was in, and it hadn't been her fault that the house burned.
He slipped past the nurses easily, taking a seat on the bed next to where his uncle sat in his wheelchair and stared down at the floor for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. This was the only family he had left and, unless Stiles decided to be chatty, the only source of information on what to do. He was completely and utterly lost.
"I need your help," he said, admitting to someone how unprepared he was for all of this. Because he couldn't show weakness in front of Scott. And he couldn't drag anyone from Fandom into this messed up little world. And Stiles--yeah no. "If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Just– Just something to point me in the right direction, okay?"
He looked down again once no sign was given. Not that he expected anything after so long. Fire was one of the things that could permanently injure a werewolf, after all.
"Someone killed Laura." Now they were a family of two. Dwindling down, the Hale family. Just one screw up and a vegetable left. "Your niece. Laura?"
Derek shook his head at himself for any hopes that would work to rouse his uncle. "Whoever he is, he's an Alpha now. But he's one without a pack. Which means he's not as strong. I can take him." He hoped. He had to. "But I have to find him first. Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Someone else make it out of the fire?"
The thought of that, someone in his family being alive all the time and never letting them know...
"Just give me anything. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything," he said, getting louder and more desperate with each request before he stood up, shaking at the wheelchair. "Say something!"
He only pulled back once a nurse appeared in the doorway. "Let him go," she demanded. "You think after six years of this, yelling at him is going to get a response?"
Yes? Look, it was Derek.
"Got a better method?" Derek demanded.
"Patience," she replied, not looking terribly intimidated by him. "He'll respond if you give him the time."
"I don't have any more time," Derek muttered, brushing past her to get away from a living relic of his poor decisions. Only once he was outside, breathing clean, cool air that the pressure in his chest eased slightly. He stalked over to his car, keys out to unlock it before noticing a slip of paper carefully pinned beneath one of his windshield wipers.
He swallowed, grabbing it to make sure it was just a flyer that he could throw away.
Instead, what he found was a report on a deer with a spiral carved into it's side. Reported by one Alan Deaton. Scott's boss. That was enough to get him into his car and rushing over to the stupid animal clinic for answers.
---
"Scott, you're late again. I hope this isn't getting to be a habit. Can I help you?" He heard the man call from deeper in the clinic.
"Hope so," Derek replied, pausing in the doorway to the examine room where the vet was. "I want to know about the animal you found with the spiral on its side."
Deaton managed to look confused at that, it wasn't faked as far as he could tell. But if the man was someone Stiles was asking advice from about those murders, he couldn't be normal enough for it to work for certain. "Excuse me? What animal?"
"Three months ago," Derek clarified, holding up the flyer that had been rumbled and smoothed several times between the care center and the animal clinic. "The deer. You remember this?"
"Oh, yes. It's just a deer. And I didn't find it," Deaton replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "They called me because they wanted to know if I'd ever seen anything like it.
"What'd you tell them?"
"I told them no," Deaton said smoothly. If it hadn't been the barest tick of his heartbeat, Derek would have bought it.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, walking into the room now.
Apparently he managed to look menacing enough for Deaton to appear a little alarmed by it. "Hear what?"
"The sound of your heartbeat rising," Derek replied, closing the distance between them quickly.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the sound of you lying," Derek snapped, grabbing him and dragging the man over the examination table, thumping his head against it before he could fight back. Just in case that little slip of of Stiles gave away something important. Once he was out, it was easy enough to bind the man to the chair with the bandages lying around the place.
Then it was only a matter of waiting for him to come to again.
And, speak of the devil...
"Oh, God," Deaton muttered, opening his eyes slowly.
"Are you protecting someone?" Derek demanded, because his interrogation techniques were the best around. THE BEST.
"All right," Deaton said, not smelling nearly afraid enough for this if you asked Derek. "The key to the drug locker is in my pocket."
Seriously? Seriously? "I don't want drugs," Derek hissed, getting in the man's face. "I want to know why you're lying."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Deaton replied, the faintest blip showing up once again. "What are you doing to me? What do you want?"
Having more than enough of this bullshit, Derek lifted the chair easily, bringing the man to eye level with him. "I want to know who you are or who you're protecting."
"What are you doing?!" Aw, crap. Of course Scott shows up now.
Deaton glanced back over his shoulder at Scott as best he could manage in the chair. "Scott, get out of here!"
Derek let the cair drop, punching Deaton before he can say or do anything more than that.
Which, of course, gets Scott rushing over to stop him. "Stop! Stop!"
Derek huffed, glaring over at him for interrupting his bad ass, Jack Bauer interrogation techniques. "Look, when he's conscious, he can keep himself from healing, but unconscious, he can't."
"Are you out of your mind?" Scott demanded, sounding possibly more than a little reasonable about this. Reason had no place here, Scott! "What are you talking about?
"You want to know what the spiral means, Scott? It's our sign for a vendetta, for revenge. It
means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied," Derek snapped.
"You think he's the Alpha?"
No, Scott. He thought Deaton wanted to go out for ice cream with him. Maybe chat about the weather.
"We're about to find out," Derek replied, pulling his arm back to hit Deaton again, only to be stopped by a clawed hand on his forearm.
Well. Scott was progressing further than expected on tapping into his anger. Derek took a wary step back in case the control that should go along with it was lacking and a real fight started. He really did not have time for that.
But slowly, surely, the claws and hair and fangs disappeared before Scott said, "Hit him again, and then you'll see me get angry."
Derek pulled away, pacing the room to relieve some of the pent up aggression boiling in his blood. "Do you have a plan?" he demanded.
Scott, at least, had the good decency to look worried. "Just give me an hour."
"Then what?"
He bit his lip before deciding, "Meet me at the school. In the parking lot."
Oh. This'll be interesting.
----
When Derek pulled into the school parking lot, it was late enough at night that there were almost no cars there. Maybe just janitorial staff on premises. Scott was already there with a familiar blue jeep and a Stiles with shorter hair than Derek was used to.
"Where's my boss?" Scott asked once he stepped out of the Camaro.
"He's in the back." Safe and sound. And duct taped.
Scott and Stiles peered over to look through the window of the car as though he was going to lie about that. "Oh, well, he looks comfortable," Stiles said, shooting him a dirty look.
He'd dealt with worse, thanks.
.
It was then that the idiot duo turned, heading toward the school. Which, excuse Derek, made absolutely no sense. "Wait." How hard was it to get there attention? "Hey," he said a little louder until they turned. "What are you doing?"
"You said I was linked with the Alpha. I'm gonna see if you're right," Scott replied, looking nowhere near confident enough for whatever dumbass plan those two had cooked up.
It was only after they'd been inside for a few minutes that Derek could hear the PA system crackle to life and the sound of a dying cat filled the air. Was that supposed to be a howl or something?
"You've gotta be kidding me," Derek muttered to himself, leaning against the jeep as he waited.
Because of course they would do that.
Only a few minutes after though, was the sort of howl that got Derek's hair to stand on end, hackles raised if you will.
"I'm gonna kill both of you," Derek informed them angrily as soon as the duo exited the school, looking too smug for their own good. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"
Did they not realize how loud that was for werewolves?
Scott managed to look slightly sheepish at that. "Sorry. I didn't know it would be that loud."
Stiles, on the other hand, made up for it by being as much of an annoying little shit as always. "Yeah, it was loud," he said with a smirk. "And it was awe~some."
"Shut up." He didn't have time to deal with your bullshit today, Stiles. Wrong!Stiles.
"Don't be such a sour wolf." Ugh, he was going to murder someone if that nickname stuck. So help him.
Instead of joining in on the dumb argument, Scott was looking past him at the Camaro, frowning. "What'd you do with him?"
"What?" Derek turned in place to look at the very empty back seat of his car. Crap. "I didn't do anything."
Crap on a shingle.
As soon as he'd turned back to glare at the teens for somehow causing this, clawed fingers slammed into his back and he was lifted up into the air by what could really only be the Alpha. You know, even with the ability to heal from it, having someone shove their hand through your back wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.
He watched numbly as the kids ran for the school before his vision blurred out and he was abruptly thrown against a wall. No, he wasn't sure which wall. Because he was just going to pass out now, thanks.
[[NFB, taken from Heart Monitor. BECAUSE I'M NOT AT SDCC. *gross sobbing noises*]]
He slipped past the nurses easily, taking a seat on the bed next to where his uncle sat in his wheelchair and stared down at the floor for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. This was the only family he had left and, unless Stiles decided to be chatty, the only source of information on what to do. He was completely and utterly lost.
"I need your help," he said, admitting to someone how unprepared he was for all of this. Because he couldn't show weakness in front of Scott. And he couldn't drag anyone from Fandom into this messed up little world. And Stiles--yeah no. "If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Just– Just something to point me in the right direction, okay?"
He looked down again once no sign was given. Not that he expected anything after so long. Fire was one of the things that could permanently injure a werewolf, after all.
"Someone killed Laura." Now they were a family of two. Dwindling down, the Hale family. Just one screw up and a vegetable left. "Your niece. Laura?"
Derek shook his head at himself for any hopes that would work to rouse his uncle. "Whoever he is, he's an Alpha now. But he's one without a pack. Which means he's not as strong. I can take him." He hoped. He had to. "But I have to find him first. Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Someone else make it out of the fire?"
The thought of that, someone in his family being alive all the time and never letting them know...
"Just give me anything. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything," he said, getting louder and more desperate with each request before he stood up, shaking at the wheelchair. "Say something!"
He only pulled back once a nurse appeared in the doorway. "Let him go," she demanded. "You think after six years of this, yelling at him is going to get a response?"
Yes? Look, it was Derek.
"Got a better method?" Derek demanded.
"Patience," she replied, not looking terribly intimidated by him. "He'll respond if you give him the time."
"I don't have any more time," Derek muttered, brushing past her to get away from a living relic of his poor decisions. Only once he was outside, breathing clean, cool air that the pressure in his chest eased slightly. He stalked over to his car, keys out to unlock it before noticing a slip of paper carefully pinned beneath one of his windshield wipers.
He swallowed, grabbing it to make sure it was just a flyer that he could throw away.
Instead, what he found was a report on a deer with a spiral carved into it's side. Reported by one Alan Deaton. Scott's boss. That was enough to get him into his car and rushing over to the stupid animal clinic for answers.
---
"Scott, you're late again. I hope this isn't getting to be a habit. Can I help you?" He heard the man call from deeper in the clinic.
"Hope so," Derek replied, pausing in the doorway to the examine room where the vet was. "I want to know about the animal you found with the spiral on its side."
Deaton managed to look confused at that, it wasn't faked as far as he could tell. But if the man was someone Stiles was asking advice from about those murders, he couldn't be normal enough for it to work for certain. "Excuse me? What animal?"
"Three months ago," Derek clarified, holding up the flyer that had been rumbled and smoothed several times between the care center and the animal clinic. "The deer. You remember this?"
"Oh, yes. It's just a deer. And I didn't find it," Deaton replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "They called me because they wanted to know if I'd ever seen anything like it.
"What'd you tell them?"
"I told them no," Deaton said smoothly. If it hadn't been the barest tick of his heartbeat, Derek would have bought it.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, walking into the room now.
Apparently he managed to look menacing enough for Deaton to appear a little alarmed by it. "Hear what?"
"The sound of your heartbeat rising," Derek replied, closing the distance between them quickly.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the sound of you lying," Derek snapped, grabbing him and dragging the man over the examination table, thumping his head against it before he could fight back. Just in case that little slip of of Stiles gave away something important. Once he was out, it was easy enough to bind the man to the chair with the bandages lying around the place.
Then it was only a matter of waiting for him to come to again.
And, speak of the devil...
"Oh, God," Deaton muttered, opening his eyes slowly.
"Are you protecting someone?" Derek demanded, because his interrogation techniques were the best around. THE BEST.
"All right," Deaton said, not smelling nearly afraid enough for this if you asked Derek. "The key to the drug locker is in my pocket."
Seriously? Seriously? "I don't want drugs," Derek hissed, getting in the man's face. "I want to know why you're lying."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Deaton replied, the faintest blip showing up once again. "What are you doing to me? What do you want?"
Having more than enough of this bullshit, Derek lifted the chair easily, bringing the man to eye level with him. "I want to know who you are or who you're protecting."
"What are you doing?!" Aw, crap. Of course Scott shows up now.
Deaton glanced back over his shoulder at Scott as best he could manage in the chair. "Scott, get out of here!"
Derek let the cair drop, punching Deaton before he can say or do anything more than that.
Which, of course, gets Scott rushing over to stop him. "Stop! Stop!"
Derek huffed, glaring over at him for interrupting his bad ass, Jack Bauer interrogation techniques. "Look, when he's conscious, he can keep himself from healing, but unconscious, he can't."
"Are you out of your mind?" Scott demanded, sounding possibly more than a little reasonable about this. Reason had no place here, Scott! "What are you talking about?
"You want to know what the spiral means, Scott? It's our sign for a vendetta, for revenge. It
means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied," Derek snapped.
"You think he's the Alpha?"
No, Scott. He thought Deaton wanted to go out for ice cream with him. Maybe chat about the weather.
"We're about to find out," Derek replied, pulling his arm back to hit Deaton again, only to be stopped by a clawed hand on his forearm.
Well. Scott was progressing further than expected on tapping into his anger. Derek took a wary step back in case the control that should go along with it was lacking and a real fight started. He really did not have time for that.
But slowly, surely, the claws and hair and fangs disappeared before Scott said, "Hit him again, and then you'll see me get angry."
Derek pulled away, pacing the room to relieve some of the pent up aggression boiling in his blood. "Do you have a plan?" he demanded.
Scott, at least, had the good decency to look worried. "Just give me an hour."
"Then what?"
He bit his lip before deciding, "Meet me at the school. In the parking lot."
Oh. This'll be interesting.
----
When Derek pulled into the school parking lot, it was late enough at night that there were almost no cars there. Maybe just janitorial staff on premises. Scott was already there with a familiar blue jeep and a Stiles with shorter hair than Derek was used to.
"Where's my boss?" Scott asked once he stepped out of the Camaro.
"He's in the back." Safe and sound. And duct taped.
Scott and Stiles peered over to look through the window of the car as though he was going to lie about that. "Oh, well, he looks comfortable," Stiles said, shooting him a dirty look.
He'd dealt with worse, thanks.
.
It was then that the idiot duo turned, heading toward the school. Which, excuse Derek, made absolutely no sense. "Wait." How hard was it to get there attention? "Hey," he said a little louder until they turned. "What are you doing?"
"You said I was linked with the Alpha. I'm gonna see if you're right," Scott replied, looking nowhere near confident enough for whatever dumbass plan those two had cooked up.
It was only after they'd been inside for a few minutes that Derek could hear the PA system crackle to life and the sound of a dying cat filled the air. Was that supposed to be a howl or something?
"You've gotta be kidding me," Derek muttered to himself, leaning against the jeep as he waited.
Because of course they would do that.
Only a few minutes after though, was the sort of howl that got Derek's hair to stand on end, hackles raised if you will.
"I'm gonna kill both of you," Derek informed them angrily as soon as the duo exited the school, looking too smug for their own good. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"
Did they not realize how loud that was for werewolves?
Scott managed to look slightly sheepish at that. "Sorry. I didn't know it would be that loud."
Stiles, on the other hand, made up for it by being as much of an annoying little shit as always. "Yeah, it was loud," he said with a smirk. "And it was awe~some."
"Shut up." He didn't have time to deal with your bullshit today, Stiles. Wrong!Stiles.
"Don't be such a sour wolf." Ugh, he was going to murder someone if that nickname stuck. So help him.
Instead of joining in on the dumb argument, Scott was looking past him at the Camaro, frowning. "What'd you do with him?"
"What?" Derek turned in place to look at the very empty back seat of his car. Crap. "I didn't do anything."
Crap on a shingle.
As soon as he'd turned back to glare at the teens for somehow causing this, clawed fingers slammed into his back and he was lifted up into the air by what could really only be the Alpha. You know, even with the ability to heal from it, having someone shove their hand through your back wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.
He watched numbly as the kids ran for the school before his vision blurred out and he was abruptly thrown against a wall. No, he wasn't sure which wall. Because he was just going to pass out now, thanks.
[[NFB, taken from Heart Monitor. BECAUSE I'M NOT AT SDCC. *gross sobbing noises*]]
