fixing things (shouldn't be this complicated) [Teen Wolf]

Second Step, Or, Doing an Admiral Ackbar

A/n: I wrote this chapter and most of this first draft before season three aired, so suffice to say there's a lot that's been Jossed. You'll notice Alpha Hale has the wrong gender, for instance, and that Stiles is a little more up close and personal to the Alpha pack action than in canon, but I figure you can either regard this as AU or keep in mind, again, that this is a first draft and that the second draft will have things corrected to their proper values (except for certain smudges here and there *cough*) and have patience with me until then. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

Feel free to let me know of any mistakes (other than canonical ones) that you find in this chapter. Or any chapter, really.

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He snaps awake with a jerk. Danger, Will Robinson, danger! his instincts scream at him. He looks around to see whatever's pinging off his spidey senses, but the room's too dark.

And then he hears it. Voices.

Shrinking into the corner, he claws his hands and waits.

"...was feral, why didn't he shift when we were fighting him? Or when you were?" This voice belongs to a male, a beta, judging by the resonance of his voice.

"I don't know, Kurt," a man replies. Stiles tenses; this is the Alpha. He's fucked. There's no way he's getting out of here alive. "I don't know any of the answers to your questions."

"Luckily for us, he's awake, so he can provide us with them," a third person drawls.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Of freaking course Peter Hale is here. Of course. His day has just gone down the tubes quicker than you could say "fuck."

"I will do the talking, Kurt, Peter," the man – the Alpha – says, distracting Stiles from the horribleness about to come. "Whatever happens, do not attack until I say so."

"Oh, c'mon," says the first voice – Kurt. "He attacked us on our territory! He's not going to respond to reason, David."

"He's feral anyway, feral doesn't know what reason is," Peter snarks.

At that, Stiles rolls his eyes. Good to know Peter's still a snotty shithead. Apparently the fire didn't damage that.

Wait. The fire. Shit, shit, shit, what day is it? Is he – did the ritual – oh, fuck, he got captured by Peter working with the Alphas, didn't he. Just his freakin' luck. Of course Peter went to the Alphas behind their backs - that has to be how the Alphas took their pack apart so quickly. If he doesn't die from whatever they do to them, and if he gets out of here (which, let's be real, he won't, but he'd like to pretend) he is going to set Peter on fire for the second time and he is going to enjoy it.

The sound of a doorknob being turned shoots through the room like a bullet. Gulping, Stiles presses himself into his corner even more, before changing his mind and sitting up. These Alphas aren't going to find him hiding. He may be the puny human, but he's not going down without a fight.

He's prepared to come face to face with Deucalion. Or Kali. Hell, even Aiden wouldn't be a surprise. Stiles did off his twin, after all. (He still feels how strongly the knife pushed against his hand as he stabbed it – surprisingly hard to do, it took way more strength than he had thought it would – into Ethan, first in his heart, then across his throat. The blood as it splashed over his fingers had set his skin crawling with revulsion, with the need to get it off, off, off, off. Ethan had jerked, his face a paroxysm of bewilderment, and had slumped so heavily that Stiles had staggered with his weight and gone down.

Fortunately for Stiles's psyche – he can't even believe he's saying this – Ethan hadn't landed on top of him – so he doesn't know how it feels to have a dead body on top of him. His nightmares have enough fuel, thanks.)