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Ran Off In The Night

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For the average human being, the night seems dark and nothing out of the ordinary. However, Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale did not fill the definition of ‘normal’ human beings. They knew something was seriously wrong in Beacon Hills …

Over the eerie calmness of the Beacon Hills preserve, the metallic rumbling of a well – loved jeep could be heard.

Inside the car a sudden bout of tapping interrupts Derek’s thoughts. He glances to his left to see Stiles’ hand tapping erratically against the worn down steering wheel, as they pulled up to the traffic lights. No other cars to be seen, this only seemed to agitate Stiles more. His normal string of abusive words about the stupidity of traffic lights on a usually quiet road was nowhere to be heard. The glare of the green light suddenly flashes against the jeep to indicate it was safe to go, however Stiles seemed to have no intention to move. When Derek looks over at him he was biting nervously at his nails, whilst staring blankly out of his window.



Derek’s voice echoes through the jeep, causing Stiles to be pulled from his thoughts. He looks at Derek with a dumbfounded expression that only causes more concern for the werewolf.

Stiles suddenly shifts the jeep from park to drive and steps on the acceleration too quickly, causing the car to bounce a few times before driving smoothly forwards. The radio had been flicked on and off several times by the agitated driver; a moment of company before being switched off to leave them in an eerie silence once again.

Derek knew he had to try and calm the young man down. He knew how it felt to lose someone, they both did. When someone’s life was in complete jeopardy it was hardly easy to think straight, especially when they were someone you loved.

“We’ll find him Stiles.” Derek says suddenly, breaking the silence once again.



“We are not the only ones looking for him Stiles; the whole pack is out there. Scott, Isaac, everyone.”


“Why did she take my dad? Out of everyone in this town she took my dad.”

Despite asking the question, Stiles knew the reason why the Darach had taken his father. With Sheriff Stilinski missing it would be possible that the whole police force would crumble. She would have a bigger chance of getting away with her plan.

“I don’t know.” Derek answers over Stiles’ thoughts.

He grips the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white. “Really? I thought you would have a pretty good idea since you’ve been rolling around in the sheets with her!”

“That’s not fair, Stiles.”


“That’s not fair? My dad is a good man! He doesn’t deserve to get dragged into all this stuff! He didn’t deserve it. He should never have found out about your kind!”


“My kind?” Derek questions back, not really expecting a response.

In Derek’s life there had only been a handful of times where he wished he hadn’t been born into a family of werewolves, or even known about the existence of the supernatural. Losing his family in a horrific fire was one of them. Now, could be counted also.

He looks away from Stiles and out the window. They both only had one destination in mind, the Nemeton.

Derek still had a faint scent of Jennifer, but it was fading by the second. He was fully aware of Jennifer’s story and why the Nemeton was so important to her, but he still couldn’t shake the thought that he was partly to blame for everything that had happened, and that was happening. Not that he would never admit that.

It was obvious that Stiles wasn’t paying attention as Derek reaches over for the wheel to swerve around a dusty grey coyote that was stood in the middle of the road, looking as dazed and confused as the driver. Derek lets out a frustrated huff of breath as Stiles hits his hand away.


“What the hell was that?” Stiles asks, his voice cracking slightly as he speaks.


“Coyote.” Derek answers as he glances into the side-view mirror, catching sight of the coyote bolting into the treeline, tail between its legs.


“Did I hit it? Is it okay?” Stiles asks frantically.


“It’s fine Stiles, just keep your eyes on the road.”


Derek hears Stiles take a shaky breath; his heart was jumping erratically with no signs of slowing down.


“Pull over!” Derek orders suddenly, forgetting for a moment that the young driver wasn’t actually one of his betas.


“What? Why?” Stiles asks, seemingly no longer in a daze.


“Just do it!”


Stiles sighs and pulls the jeep over on the side of the road. Derek pushes open his door and climbs out, storming round to Stiles’ side, anger obvious in his body language as he forcibly pulls open Stiles’ door.


“Get out, I’m driving.”

“But it’s my car!” Stiles argues.

He was insanely protective over his beloved Jeep, as it had once belonged to his mother. He hadn’t even let Scott drive it.

Derek moves closer to Stiles’ side, clearly not in the mood to ask twice. With a sigh, Stiles begrudgingly climbs out of the car, and huffs his annoyance as he passes Derek at the head of the car.

“You don’t let me drive the Camaro, why should I let you drive my jeep?”

“What is your problem?” Derek suddenly spits out.

“What is my problem? Oh I don’t know; my dad has been kidnapped by your psycho girlfriend, we have no idea where he is, or what she is doing to him and you are not helping!”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Derek growls through gritted teeth, his arms folding over his broad chest in a defensive stance.

“That is not helping!” Stiles shouts as he throws his hands in the air in frustration.

Derek may not be related to the Sheriff in any way, but it didn’t stop him from being worried for his safety. After all he was a werewolf, not an insensitive asshole. Stiles though, didn’t seem like he would agree with that …

The young man’s body was still now; no flailing or tapping moving his frame.

“I’m trying to help you, Stiles. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to help!” It was a lie; Derek would have been there even if he didn’t want to be.

“Oh, you’ve done enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? This isn’t my fault!”

“No, it’s your psycho-girlfriend’s!”


“She’s not my girlfriend Stiles!”


“That’s not the point, Derek! She is out there with my dad. She may have tricked you, but she didn’t trick Scott or me. You didn’t listen to us and she kidnapped my dad. I’ve already lost my mom, I can’t lose him too!”

“If you don’t pull yourself together you won’t have any parents to go home to.” Derek snaps.

It took him mere moments to pull back slightly, realising what he had said. He steps forwards, with his hand outstretched, Stiles’ name apologetically on his lips; before Stiles steps forwards harshly and pushes Derek. Stiles barely gives Derek time to recover from the shock before Stiles is pushing him again and again. Seconds after, a closed fist collides with Derek’s arm. A loud yell is pulled from Stiles as he falls back cradling his hand.

“What are you made of?” Stiles shouts as he rubs his knuckles.


“Are you okay?” Derek asks, voice laced with genuine concern.

“No, I’m not okay Derek!” Stiles growls back, still holding his injured hand.

“Stiles?” The teen doesn’t answer, merely cradling his fist to his chest as he tries to dim the pain and concentrate on not throwing up. “Stiles?” Derek repeats, much louder. Stiles suddenly looks up at him, appearing angry, but his face is still screwed up in pain. “Hit me …”

That’s get Stiles’ attention, as his pained and angry expression morphs into one of confusion. “What?”

“Hit me!” Derek says again, this time less like a request, and more like an order.

Derek stands and waits, unsure of whether or not Stiles was actually going to do it. He looked conflicted, as if he couldn’t quite decide if Derek was being serious or not.

Suddenly, fist collides with his jaw, forcing his head to the side. Thoroughly taken off guard, Derek has no time to recover as another blow had collides with his cheek. Derek can’t help but be a little impressed with Stiles’ punches when he turns his head and spits blood onto the dirt by his feet. Huh, the guy was stronger than he looks; especially when he was angry.

However, he was surprised when a fist collides with his jaw, forcing his head to the side as he is taken off guard. He has no time to recover as another collides with his cheek and then his stomach making him double over slightly and spit blood onto the dirt. Usually that would concern Stiles but it was clear that he wasn’t in the right mind as he steps forwards and begins to throw frantic punches into Derek’s stomach until he is a panting, bloody mess. He suddenly reels back looking at his bloody knuckles. Derek straightens himself up slowly, the pain radiating from his stomach to his chest, making it hard to breath. He gasps a few times before he steps towards Stiles who flinches away. He simply puts his hand on his shoulder and leads him to the car. He opens the passenger door and lets him get in. Without hesitation, he drives the last few miles to the Nemeton.