Baseball Bats and Sour Wolves

Chapter 13

Stiles doesn't know why it's so dark tonight, when he left the loft it had seemed a little lighter outside than it is right now. Stiles sighs, wishing that his Jeeps headlights were just a bit lighter, or that they had a bit more street lamps around this area. 

Stiles really wished that he could've went home in the morning, a lot more light at that time, less dangerous. The Jeep hits something hard and Stiles swears that if it's a body he's going to loose it, he is about to pull over and see what it is he ran over when the Jeep flips. Stiles screams, taken by surprise, glass shatters and some hits Stiles' face.

He hits his head, and can feel something wet and sticky run down the side of his face. Stiles swears there wasn't anything that he could've run over that would've flipped the Jeep. The Jeep lands upside down and the breathe is knocked out of Stiles, he can hear glass crunching under someone's feet.

"Help." He wheezes although he'd be surprised if anyone heard it. 

A face pops into view and Stiles automatically knows that it's one of the witches. His breathing speeds up in panic and he needs to reach for his phone, where did he put his phone?

"Oh look, I've caught myself a spark." She hums happily, cracking a wicked smile. "An untrained spark at that, I'm on fire today!" The witch hums happily, she sneers and waves her hand. Stiles feels a sharp pain, and then darkness swarms his vision, and no matter how hard he tries to keep his eyes open they close. Stiles sits trapped in the darkness, fire licking his veins.

_____

Peter paces in front of the couch, they should've heard from Stiles already, he should be home by now. Peter's hand itches to grab the phone and call Noah, see if Stiles is home yet, Derek sits in his chair leg bouncing restlessly. Peter's called Stiles over ten times and there hasn't been a single word since he left the loft, over an hour ago.

"Where do you think he could be?" Derek demands, Stiles always answers his phone, always makes sure it's charged. "I mean, he wouldn't have let his phone die right?" Peter shakes his head, Stiles wouldn't do that.

"He would've made sure it was charged enough for him to make it home, he should be answering." Peter answers, a sigh of frustration leaving his parted lips. He picks his phone up and dials Stiles' cell one more time, it goes to voice mail.

"Maybe we should call Noah, see if he's at home sleeping or something." Derek suggests, and Peter thinks it's possible, but he would've called one of them first, or texted saying he got home okay.

Peter feels a sharp pain shoot through his body and he turns to Derek, wondering what his nephew just did to hurt himself, except Derek looks fine. Although Peter's pretty sure that Derek felt the same thing he did, because they make eye contact.

"Stiles." Derek breathes, eyes widening.

Peter dials Noah's cell number and he answers it on the first ring.

"Peter, where's my son?" Noah demands, and now Peter begins to panic. So, they were right, Noah hasn't seen Stiles either.

"I- he isn't home yet?" Peter questions softly, and Noah takes a sharp inhale of breathe.

"No, I thought he hadn't left yet." Noah states blankly and Derek's heart beat quickens.

"He left about an hour ago from the loft." Peter mutters and Noah sighs in frustration.

"I'm going to go check the route he takes to the loft and back, I suggest you do the same on your end." Noah announces, he hang up without waiting for Peter to answer.

Peter and Derek both are out of the loft without even thinking about moving, they get into the Cameo and Derek drives, if Peter drove they'd be in a ditch. There both a mess, they can't focus and if anything has happened to Stiles, Peter doesn't know what he'll do. Derek takes off down the street, the way that Stiles always takes, he likes his short cuts.

They drive for at least a good five minutes when Peter tells Derek to pull over, he swears that he sees something baby blue up ahead, the same colour as Stiles' Jeep. Derek pulls over, brows furrowed in concern, Peter gets out of the car and Derek follows.

Peter walks forward slowly, quietly. He doesn't know for sure if it's the Jeep, and if it is, there could be someone around there that is intending to harm either Stiles, or him and Derek. Derek and Peter stop walking, and Peter whines, his wolf clawing at his rib cage to be let out. Peter's heart constricts and he takes a sharp inhale of breathe.

Sitting not even two feet from them is Stiles baby blue Jeep, overturned with glass everywhere. Stiles scent mixed with blood fills the air strongly here, neither Derek or Peter move. Their frozen, terrified that they'll find something that they don't want to, Peter focuses and can faintly hear a heart beat.

He snaps out of it and sprints forward, he peers through the driver side window and sure enough Stiles is inside, blood caking the side of his head, cuts and bruises everywhere. Derek snaps out of his frozen trance and runs towards his two pack mates. Peter carefully reaches inside the Jeep, undoing Stiles' seat belt and catching him, he pulls Stiles' limp body out of the Jeep.

"Call the Sheriff." Peter's rasps, tears gathering in his eyes. "We're bringing him back to the loft." Derek looks at him like he's lost it.

"I think he needs to go to a hospital first Peter." Derek softly announces. Peter's eyes harden, turning cold.

"Absolutely not! He will stay with us, where we can heal him." Peter voice breaks and tears slip past his eyes. "With his pack." Peter whispers and Derek's heart clenches at his uncle's expression.

"Uncle." Derek says softly, tears filling his eyes.

Peter cradles Stiles close to his chest and can't help the tears that slip past his eyes, Derek dials Noah's cell. He keeps his eyes on Peter, worried about his well being at the moment, Derek briefly wonders what Peter would do if Stiles died. He'd probably go feral again. Stiles holds their pack together, Derek and Peter would continue to be a pack, but it wouldn't be the same without him.

"Derek, have you found Stiles?" Noah demands firmly, Derek doesn't know if he can respond.

"Yeah, he he." Derek stutters, he takes a deep breathe. "He was in a car accident, ten minutes from the loft." Derek answers, Noah's sharp intake is heard over the phone, before police sirens turn on.

"Hang on, I'm coming to you." Noah's voice cracks in worry. 

Derek hopes to God that Stiles will be okay, none of them would be able to take his death. He needs to survive, he can't die. Derek doesn't respond, he hangs up the phone and lets the tears fall.