Shatter My Reality

Silence

All eyes fell on the Derek as he, Peter and Scott stumbled into the loft covered in blood.

"Oh my god," Spencer's eyes went wide.

"What happened?" Kira was at Scott's side in an instant, helping Peter to the couch.

Derek leaned against the couch, remaining silent.

"Where's Stiles?" Lydia asked when he didn't walk in behind them.

Derek's jaw clenched.

After a long moment of silence, Scott answered, "He's with them."

"But he's alive?"

Derek snapped his head toward Lydia. "Didn't you just hear him? They have Stiles."

"But he's alive. That means my vision was wrong."

"And taken is better than dead," Kira nodded.

Derek held back a growl. He knew she was right, but he feared what they might do to Stiles. He had a tendency to be stubborn and uncooperative. If he didn't give them what they wanted, they'd either take it by force or... Derek closed his eyes. He couldn't think about that. He had to focus and get him back.

"I should get you guys patched up," Lydia said, disappearing into the bathroom.

"I thought you guys could heal?" Spencer asked, his eyes locked on Derek's bloody torso.

"It takes time if they're bad. Longer if it's from an alpha," Scott explained.

"That alpha is a real bitch," Peter groaned.

"Are those from..." Spencer trailed off.

Derek only nodded, peeling off his shirt so Lydia could better access the wounds.

"Well what do we do now? Stiles is usually the one who comes up with the plan," Isaac asked.

The room was silent. A dead eerie silence. It was the type of silence that draped over funerals and wrapped around loved ones in hospitals. It was the type of silence you trudged through in an empty home. A silence that usually came with the absence of someone loved. A silence Derek was all too familiar with.

Pressure filled Derek's chest. His hands clenched at his sides. Anger bubbled in him like an overflowing cauldron. He needed to break something. He pushed to his feet. He preferred to be alone when he felt like this.

"Derek," Scott's voice called after him, but he ignored it, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him.

With a swipe, his lamp went scattering to the floor in dozens of tiny pieces. He turned and punched the brick wall. His knuckles split open. The brick crumbled, leaving a crack that closely resembled Derek's heart. Tears sprung to his eyes. He couldn't lose Stiles. He just couldn't.

A gentle knock at Derek's door snapped him out of his tantrum. He blinked back the tears, ready to snap at whoever was going to try and console him.

He swung the door open to Spencer. His bright brown eyes looked up at him with concern. He looked so much like Stiles.

Spencer held up a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a few bandages. "Lydia said your wounds should be tended to."

Derek's chest twisted. Part of him wanted to hate Spencer for looking like Stiles and for being here instead of Stiles. But part of him was thankful that even if something happened to Stiles, he'd still see his eyes and hear his voice. Even if it wasn't him.

"They warned me you might not want to see me right now, but—"

Derek stepped aside, allowing Spencer in.