Everything or Nothing

Chapter 11: I'm The One

When Stiles comes to, the first things he notices are the clean tiled walls and a basic ceiling. For some reason, that's almost the worst part. Because, for those few seconds, Stiles was willing to believe he simply passed out from some panic attack and his dad brought him home. But the next thing he notices is the loud whimpering and the scuffling of nails scratching the floor. Stiles rushes to his feet, ignoring the few seconds of light-headedness as he launches onto his feet. It's Boyd and Erica that stare back at him and Stiles' heart stutters at the tears running down Erica's face. He rushes forward, shushing the betas as Erica starts to whimper even louder - both of them shaking their heads at Stiles. The latter doesn't detour, simply reaching up to grab the wire keeping Erica's hands raised to the ceiling. A sudden shock runs through Stiles as soon as his hands touch the wire, making him hiss as he pulls his hands back.

"They were trying to warn you."

Stiles spins around, panic seizing him as Gerard's foreboding voice and heavy footsteps start to echo in the room. "What are you doing with them?" Stiles demands, trying to keep up a farce of strength in front of Allison's psycho grandpa.

The old man leans against one of the beams, the epitome of nonchalance as he remarks, "At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in torturing them - they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their alpha is too strong."

"Okay," Stiles mutters, dread sinking in. "So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, alright. He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer. Covered in fecal matter and urine."

"You do have a knack," Gerard interrupts, a smile on his face and amusement leaking out in his words. "For creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own." Gerard leaves his post, his smile suddenly dragging down and his eyes going dark as he prowls toward Stiles. "Scott Mccall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?"

Stiles gulps, jumping on his toes even as he refuses to back away from Gerard's approach. "I think I might prefer more of a still-life landscape, you know?" Gerard doesn't answer, his jaw simply twitching as he watches Stiles. The latter takes in a breath, forcing the fear down as he takes a step towards Gerard, a mere inches away. "What – what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room."

Stiles doesn't see the hit coming until he's down on the floor and the betas are whimpering behind him. He grunts, trying to get his head back in the game as he feels Gerard grab onto his jersey.

"Okay, wait-" Stiles starts, trying to curl away from the old man leaning over him.

Right as Gerard goes in for another hit, there's suddenly a reverberating growl shaking the room and the sudden clanging of chains. Stiles looks over, trying to ignore what he knows is going to happen next. Across from him, hidden behind the betas and chained to the wall, a familiar pair of crimson-red eyes stare back at him. Luscious. Stiles's pulse picks up, his hands beginning to shake as he meets the alpha's eyes. He's still a wolf, though Stiles isn't sure how far into the shift Luscious had gone. There's too much happening - blow after blow that Gerard lands on his cheeks, visible for the message Gerard no doubt wants Scott to see. The betas start wiggling around in their restraints, which is probably causing huge electric shocks if they can't even shift. The blank-eyed feral alpha is trying to pull himself out of the thick chains encircling his whole body. Stiles grunts, his head being forced away as Gerard lands another hit. Stiles can't tell how long it goes on for, all he can focus on is the fact Gerard's knee is digging into his ribs so hard there's no doubt a bruise festering - possibly worse with how hard Stiles is trying to curl away from the old man.