Stiles' Inner Demon[Sterek Fanfic]

Chapter 2

Derek sundered out of the darkness and into a stream of moonlight coming in from the bedroom window. He chuckled underneath his breath when he glanced to the cartoon characters on screen before turning to a completely stiff Stiles.

Stiles' eyes were wide and there was no mistake that he was sweating.

Derek walked over to the light switch, turned it on and sent a bright white light cascading the bedroom. 

Stiles couldn’t believe Derek was in his bedroom. Of course he had imagined Derek in his bedroom, in his dreams but he never thought it was ever going to happen. Derek walked back to front of the bed cooly; it almost seemed like he didn’t belong there. Like he was too perfect to be in such an ordinary environment.

Stiles watched as Derek evaluated his room with an appraising eye. He chuckled at the Playboy posters above his bed that made Stiles very uncomfortable. The women on the ceiling were a hundred times beautiful than he was. Derek could have any girl . . . or guy, if that’s what he wanted.

Why would he want Stiles?

There was silence as Derek walked around the room, touching Stiles' things which would have pissed Stiles off, but he was actually intrigued of Derek’s undying curiosity.

Derek came across a framed picture on top of the night stand next to Stiles’ lamp, and Stiles’ stomach turned in knots. It was a picture of him, his father and of his mother. Stiles had her brown eyes and high cheekbones. As for his lanky built, that was from his father, although his father had more muscles on him for years of work on the police force. 

Stiles pushed away his food to the edge of the bed and played with his fingers, unsure on what to say to Derek. The setting was too intimate for him and he so desperately wanted to be more in his element. Maybe if Scott were here?

“So---who’s the one that’s going to crack first?” Derek finally broke the silence. He had found a place against the wall, leaning on it with his legs and arms crossed. The intensity in Derek’s eyes were so strong that Stiles couldn’t look at him without wanting to break down. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Stiles replied. 

“Why did you come by my home?” he said hard, controlled. “You come with no invitation and then when you see me, almost behead me and leave like you'd seen a werewolf!”

Derek chuckled at his remark, his red eyes, slowly turning back into a dull green. 

“Oh---,” Stiles went through his mind, coming back across the demon but ignored him to answer Derek with, “I didn’t know I was at your house.”

“You didn’t know you were at my house?” Derek said slowly, almost processing what Stiles had just said. “First of all, you parked right in front of the yard, second, you saw me and third, you were talking to me!” he rose his voice. “Were you sleep walking or whatever? And who was the other voice?Come on Stiles, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that he loves you,” the demon voice appeared. 

“What?”

Derek’s brows curved over his eyes, and his sharp teeth stuck out of his full, pink lips that Stiles so desperately wanted to kiss. Stiles bit on his lower lip, leaving Derek unanswered. 

“I know I have killer hearing and all but who’s speaking? I don’t understand!”

“You’re just crazy,” Stiles eventually said. “Now, can you leave so I can get some rest? I have school tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday moron,” Derek gritted his teeth. “What’s going on? Who’s speaking to me?”

“Me,” the demon said in Stiles' head, that apparently Derek could hear.

Derek's red eyes reappeared and his face scrunched into a werewolf.

“Who are you!” Derek growled, irritated. 

“My name is Stiles Stilinski,” said the demon.

Derek glared at Stiles who had not spoken for awhile. Derek knew that he wasn’t talking to Stiles, but if not the only other body in the room, then who?

“My name is Derek Hale,” the demon antagonized. “I’m a murdering werewolf that feed on the weak and eat them until my stomach is satisfied.” 

This pushed Derek over the edge; he ripped into a full werewolf form and caused Stiles to cower back near the headboard, clutching a pillow.

Derek crept towards Stiles, his huge, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. His red eyes were strong and like blood. Derek hovered above Stiles, covering him in shadows. 

“If you or that voice doesn’t answer me, I’m going to rip out your throat.” Derek threatened, breathing heavily through his snout. 

Stiles could barely breathe, let alone come up with plausible words that weren’t whimpering and gasps. 

“It’s my,” he stuttered.

“My what?” Derek growled, showing more teeth. 

“My name is Derek Hale and I’m a worthless piece of shit of a werewolf that should just crawl into a corner and die.”

The demon pushed its limit. 

Derek grabbed Stiles by the throat, carrying him up the wall until Stiles was face to face with Derek's red eyes. Stiles’ heart beated rapidly and Derek’s claws dug into his skin.

Stiles stared into Derek’s red pupils, evoking undeniable terror so Derek would let him go. 

“Derek,” Stiles choked out. “Put me down.” Derek’s claws dug into the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“Answer me first,” he growled. “My hand isn’t covering your entire breathing pipe so you have about a minute before you pass out. Who’s the other voice?”

“Derek---,” Stiles choked, “I can’t.”

“Tell me now or I swear to god I’ll have you unconscious.”

The insomnia, the demon, Derek’s claw clasped around his throat . . . The only thing Stiles could do and wanted to do was cry.

So he did.

Stiles sobbed in Derek’s grasp, his tears falling onto Derek’s paw. 

“Stiles just answer the question. I can already feel your heart beating slower, you’re going to pass out soon.”

“Then let me pass out,” Stiles answered. “Maybe you should choke me harder so I just end up dying.”

Suddenly, Derek’s grasp loosened, bringing Stiles’ feet back to the floor.

Stiles stood against the wall, catching his breath. When his breathing returned to normal, he looked into Derek’s red werewolf eyes and stood up stiffly as he had been shot by a freeze ray. 

The black werewolf backed up against the bedroom window, staring into Stiles’ eyes.

Derek whined and disappeared into the night.

But before he was fully gone, Stiles couldn’t help but notice a single tear drop from Derek’s red eyes. There was no mistake that it was a tear because there was a single, dark spot that Stiles couldn’t help but crouch over. He looked at the stain and then out the window for Derek, who was already out of sight. 

“Your ugliness scared him away,” the demon voice reappeared. “That or your stink burger breath.”

Stiles covered his mouth with his hand and breathed out. It wasn’t stink, it smelt like Coke but maybe Derek’s werewolf senses could smell the burger he had swallowed due to his depression. 

“No---,” Stiles disagreed. “Derek . . . cried for me.”