Mine to Protect
Themes: Road Trip; Werewolves are Known; Protecive Sterek
Summary: Derek is abducted by a group of werewolves hunters who are rounding up werewolves and taking them to a a holding compound in the forests of Maine. It’s unclear what their plan is once they get all the wolves there, but Derek knows that it can’t be anything good. What the hunters don’t know is that Stiles won’t let Derek go without a fight. And he has a secret weapon: the residents of Beacon Hills.
Rating: T
—————
The heat is unbearable. At this point, Derek can’t even think about freedom or escape - all he wants is a cool drink of water. He should focus more, should be trying to figure out a way to break out of this metal prison, but his senses are still dull from whatever drug the hunters used when they captured him, and his wrists ache from where the wolfsbane infused rope is digging into his skin. All he can think about is water.
The moving truck veers to the left, jostling everyone around uncomfortably. Across from Derek, Sandra clutches her son to her chest as best she can with her hands tied. Her eyes haven’t stopped shining beta gold since Derek was tossed into the back of the moving truck with all of the others. In total, there are thirteen of them huddled around in various states of drugged disarray. Derek was last one that they picked up before they started driving. He doesn’t know how long the others have been trapped here. He doesn’t want to ask.
It’s bad enough that he can’t do anything about their imprisonment. He’s an alpha, for the Gods’ sakes. He should be helping rescue all of them, not sitting in captivity along with them. He feels useless and hopeless and so damned scared.
Morgan, an older werewolf who was picked up in Washington, says that he had overheard some of the hunters talking about their destination. Apparently, they have a compound in Maine somewhere, and they're rounding up all the werewolves that they can to bring them there. He said that they hadn’t gone into detail about what they planned to do with all of these werewolves once they were gathered together, but Derek has seen enough destruction at the hands of hunters to know that whatever it is, it won’t be good. All that they can hope for are swift deaths.
Maybe Derek would feel better if there was any chance that his pack knew he was missing. But, seeing as he is supposed to be on a plane headed to Nicaragua to visit Cora, no one will know that he’s been taken until his alpha powers transfer to one of his betas when he dies. It’s a gruesome thought, but once it’s worked its way into Derek’s head, he can’t let it go. He hopes that Boyd will be the one to get the spark; he’s levelheaded enough to support the pack, and would make a good leader. Plus, he’s probably the only one who wouldn’t be pushed around by Stiles, at least not too much.
Stiles. Derek won’t think about him. He can’t. It makes being here so much worse. Coincidentally, one of the last conversations that they had had before Derek left for the airport was about going on a road trip, just the two of them. They hadn’t decided where to go, Stiles couldn’t make up his mind about it, but the thought was there, the intention, and that was what had mattered. Derek had thought that they would have time to work out the details after he got back from visiting Cora. He had been looking forward to it. Spending the days driving across the country with Stiles at his side had sounded perfect.
Instead, he’s taking a road trip with a group of terrified werewolves, and the destination is a hunter deathcamp.
Vera, who is the youngest person in the truck aside from Sandra’s son, whines and buries her head against Derek’s shoulder. He can feel the tension in her body, can tell that she’s shaking with fear, and he curses at himself once again for being so useless. All he can do is let her take whatever comfort she can in his proximity. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but it will have to do.
—————
Derek can’t say for sure how long they’ve been driving, but he does know that it’s long enough that when the vehicle finally comes to a stop, he’s almost nauseous from the lack of movement.
Everything is quite for a long time. When nobody seems to be coming to check in on them, Morgan brings his fists up to hit at the wall. The other werewolves, Derek included, watch him without saying anything. Finally, the door slides up.
“Knock that shit off,” the hunter hisses as he climbs into the bed of the truck. “We still have a ways to go, and we don’t want you causing a ruckus.” As if to prove a point about who’s in charge, he throws the soda cup he’s been carrying at Morgan’s head. Whatever liquid had been inside spills across the floor. The werewolf who’s been sitting across from Morgan lurches to the ground to try and lap up whatever moisture he can get. If Derek were sitting closer, he might be tempted to do the same thing.
The sight makes the hunter laugh, a hard sound. “Filthy fucking animals,” he wheezes, grinning wide enough that Derek wishes his mouth would split. Vera kicks at him, but he easily sidesteps the attack before reaching out and backhanding her hard enough that her lip splits open. Derek can feel his eyes flare red in response to the violence, and he growls low in his throat, but the hunter is too busy wiping Vera’s blood off of his knuckles to pay Derek any mind.
“We’re stopping for the night,” he explains finally, unnerving smile still in place. “The boss says that we should leave this latch open, so none of you die sometime in the night, but don’t think that means you can try and get away. If any of you even go so far as to stick one of your feet out this door, we’ll lock you back up, you hear me? Don’t even bother trying. Besides, none of you can even guess where we’re at, and there aren’t any other people around for miles. Save yourselves the trouble. At least we’re being good enough to give you fresh air.”
He’s gone before anyone can say anything else. Carefully, Morgan reaches out and picks up the soda cup. “Here you go, Sandra,” he offers, sitting up on his knees so that he can lean over and pass it to her. “There’s not much there, but at least Cory can get a swallow from it.”
There are tears in Sandra’s eyes as she takes the cup and gives it to her son. Nobody puts up a fight about letting the boy have it, something that makes Derek proud of the company he’s with. Instead of watching Cory take his one drink, Derek does his best to pull Vera to his side. She’s crying quietly, repeating the words “I’m sorry” over and over. Derek doesn’t shush her or tell her that everything is going to be okay. He doesn’t want to lie. Instead he holds her close and closes his eyes, singing her a song that his mother would sing to him when he was small and afraid. The other werewolves settle in and listen to his song. Even if he can’t help them escape, at least he can give them this.
—————
Derek is surprised when he wakes up. First by the fact that he was even able to go to sleep in the first place. And second, by a heat that is burning it’s way through his body. His first thought is that the wolfsbane has gotten into his bloodstream, catching his veins on fire. But the warmth is softer than that. It’s comforting in a confusing way. It feels like…
Stiles.
That’s when he hears the first sign of a fight. Someone is yelling at the hunters to get to their feet, screaming about an ambush. The other werewolves jolt awake at the noise, and even though they are all groggy and starving, they are rejuvenated by the hope that someone is coming to help save them.
Derek wastes no time pulling himself towards the truck’s door. The sun is beginning to rise, casting the valley that they’re stopped in in warm light. And there, standing out amongst several other cars, is a familiar blue jeep.
Without thinking about the hunters lurking around, Derek rolls himself out the truck. He hits the ground hard enough that it takes him a few moments before he can clamber to his knees. And when he does, his heart stops. Standing a few feet away, the hunter from earlier is smiling at him, gun pointed at Derek’s head, finger on the trigger. Before the hunter can take his shot, and before Derek can try and roll away from the danger, Landry Perkins appears behind the man, swinging a baseball bat down against his head hard enough that Derek can hear something snap. She’s yelling profanities at him and hitting once more with her bat, and all Derek can do is stare at her.
She shouldn’t be here. In fact, none of the people that Derek can see running around the clearing should be here. And they sure as hell shouldn’t be wielding makeshift weapons, fighting werewolves hunters to help save a handful of supernatural creatures. They should all be gardening or shopping or working at their normal, human jobs. They should be in Beacon Hills. They shouldn’t be here.
Landry rushes to Derek’s side, reaching out to cut through the ropes on his wrists. He wants to ask her what she’s doing here, wants to ask how it is that the residents of Beacon Hills are here, protecting creatures that they shouldn’t know exist. Instead, what he says is, “You have a bat.”
She looks at her weapon in surprise and then smiles at him, looking every bit of the friendly librarian that Derek knows her to be. Blowing a lock of blond hair out of her face, she is seeming unconcerned by the blood on the bat. “Yes. See, Carter offered me one of his rifles, but I think that I like this better. Guns are just so loud, and I probably wouldn’t be able to make a good shot anyway, so the bat suits me fine.” When she finally gets through the ropes, she throws them away and then cups Derek’s face in both of her hands. The wolfsbane lingering on her skin stings his face, but Derek hardly notices. “How are you feeling, dear? Are you alright?”
“I-. How-. How are you here?”
She pulls him to his feet, supporting him while he gets his balance, and then explains, “Well, Lisa was with Stiles when he figured out something had happened to you. While he called the pack, Lisa called all of the other PTA moms, and getting everyone together after that was a cinch. The hardest part was making sure that everyone had a car to ride in, but luckily Ralph let us use some of the cars off of his lot and-.”
He cuts her off, trying to make some sense of what she’s saying. “Stiles asked for your help? He told you what was going on?”
“Oh golly, no. Actually, he was pretty concerned when we all crashed his emergency meeting. It’s a good thing he was at the store when you were taken, otherwise, none of us would have known what was going on.”
“I’m a werewolf.” The sentence blurts out before Derek can think about what he’s saying.
Instead of freaking out, Landry pats his cheek again and nods. “I know, dear. We’ve all known for quite some time. Did you honestly think that, with everything that happens in Beacon Hills, that we didn’t know the truth?” At his blank look she laughs. “Oh my, you did, didn’t you? Derek we’ve known about the supernatural long before you returned to Beacon Hills. We grew up with Talia,” she says like it explains everything. Derek supposes, in a way, it does. He knows that there was a lot of information, a lot of pack business, that Talia never discussed with him. It’s just hard to wrap his head around the fact that apparently the majority of the people from his hometown not only know that werewolves exists, but also have driven across the country to come and rescue him.
“We can discuss this later, okay? Right now we need to get the other werewolves freed, and make sure that all of the hunters are taken care of.”
Derek nods, standing up straight and extending his claws. “If you go and help untie the others, I can cover you.”
Landry snorts at him. “Oh honey, how about you leave the fighting to me, alright.” She presses her electric blue pocket knife into his hands, ignoring the fact that he still has his claws out. “Hurry up, now dear. I’m sure the others are going to be very happy to get those ropes off.”
Instead of arguing with her or staring dumbfounded at everything that is happening around them, Derek does what she says, carefully hoisting himself back into the truck.
“What’s going on out there,” Morgan asks, crawling towards him. Derek reaches out for the ropes on his wrists first, using the knife instead of his claws to cut through them.
“That’s the rescue party,” he explains, watching how his words seem to give everyone enough energy to climb onto their knees and move towards him.
“But who,” Vera asks, looking around the truck with wide eyes.
Derek smiles at her. “My pack,” he explains, not bothering to go into anymore details.
“I thought that you said that they didn’t know where you were?”
“Lucky for us, I was wrong. Now, who else needs to be untied?” He cuts through everyone’s binds quickly, feeling stronger with every minute that passes. Eventually, he leads them all out of the truck. The fighting has mostly finished up already, with only a few battles wearing down. From across the field, he sees Landry examining a cut on Carter’s cheek. Both of them are grinning, so Derek assumes that it’s nothing to be concerned with.
He’s getting ready to lead the werewolves over to them when his eyes lock on a familiar figure. Suddenly there is a desperation clawing at his chest, one that has him stumbling in Stiles’ direction. Vera reaches out to steady him, but before she gets the chance, Stiles is already there wrapping himself around Derek without hesitation.
Derek buries his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck. There is the slight scent of fear lingering on his skin, but it is nearly smothered by the smell of magick and determination and relief.
“You found me,” Derek breathes in awe.
Stiles grabs at his hair, using it as leverage to pull Derek’s head away from his neck so that he can look him in the eyes. His grip is hard enough that it almost hurts, but only in the best possible way. “I felt it when they took you,” he says, eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “It was like my whole being was set on fire, and I knew that something had happened to you.”
“But, how?”
His grip in Derek’s hair tightens. “You’re mine,” he snarls, pulling Derek closer. His voice is rougher than Derek is used to, and it gives him chills. “They tried to take you away from me. They didn’t know that I wasn’t going to let them do that.” His eyes are shining bright purple, and the air around them cackles with electric energy.
Just like that, Derek understands. It’s the same feeling that Derek got when he woke up, the same feeling that he gets everytime Stiles is near. Their mate bond combined with Stiles’ magick connects them in more ways than Derek knew was possible.
“I will always find you, Derek. Always.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Derek tries to make light of the situation. “This wasn’t the road trip I promised you,” he whispers, enjoying the way that his statement makes Stiles’ snort.
“Fuck the road trip, let’s go home.” Home. Curling up with Stiles on their couch in their apartment sounds perfect. But-
“We have to take the other’s back too,” Derek tells him, pressing his face back against Stiles’ neck. He can tell that all the other werewolves are watching them, and he knows that Stiles is watching them right back.
Finally, Stiles sighs. “Alright fine, you win. We’ll take everyone back to their packs first. But you’re calling Cora and letting her know that I’m not going to let you leave the apartment for at least a month when we finally get back home.”
Derek kisses Stiles’ neck softly. “Deal.” It’s not like Derek wants to go anywhere else anyway. So long as he has Stiles in his arms, he’s happy.
