Saving Stilinski

Optimalpha

The whooshing sound deafened Stiles. He found that it stopped when he held his breath, but the thumping behind it made his skull vibrate. With a start he realized that the noise was nothing more than his breathing and his beating heart. With a second start he realized that he was awake. He opened his eyes and saw that the world was rose-tinted.

He tried to shout, "Derek?" but it just came out as a squeak. Stiles swallowed the dry air in his mouth and tried again. "Scott? Derek?"

Scott's sheets and pillow were damp from Stiles' sweat. He wore his friend's black Dave Matthews Band t-shirt and an old pair of his jeans that were lose at his waist. Sitting up wasn't as hard as he expected. He went from horizontal to vertical quicker than usual, as if his abs were stronger. Kicking off the sheets sent them flying off the bed. Stiles turned, put his bare feet on the hard wood floor and got a nose full of scents courtesy of the ceiling fan above: deodorant, day-old pizza, leather, grass-stains, soap, the lilacs on Melissa McCall's front steps, the chlorine in the pool across the street, the fried rice from the Chinese place four blocks away. Stiles flexed each muscle from his toes up to his eyebrows. He felt sore but not broken, sleepy but not weak, hungry but not lacking energy. Memories returned, then. The cave, the animal hospital, vomiting into a trashcan, holding onto Derek for dear life, seizing and hearing Scott say something about red eyes before he passed out.

"Red eyes..." Stiles whispered. He bolted towards the nearest reflective surface: Scott's bedroom window. A pair of fiery eyes looked back at him.

He heard Derek, then, saying "Give me one good reason why I should trust you." Stiles looked down through the window and saw something almost as strange as his red eyes. Derek, Scott, Lydia and Isaac were circled around Ethan. The Alpha's nose was bleeding. His hands were behind his back but not bound. He looked desperate, but not scared. Not for his own life, at least. "What did I miss?" Stiles wondered out loud. He headed for the stairs but right when he walked out of Scott's room he walked into Peter Hale.

"Oh, good. You're awake," said Peter. His thin lips spread into a smile that belonged on a Halloween mask. "I was going to murder you in your sleep, but this will be much more fun."

Peter punched Stiles so hard that the teen sailed through Melissa McCall's bedroom and bounced off her window. He got to his feet but Peter caught him around the throat and slammed his head against the glass. Fireworks of stars burst out of the corners of Stiles' eyes. Claws pierced his neck and warm blood trickled down his back. "Those red eyes suit you, Stiles," Peter said. "An Optimalpha's eyes. It's almost a shame that I have to kill you, really. You're a rare specimen. A virgin-warrior-healer-philosopher-guardian werewolf."

"What?" Stiles managed through his shrinking windpipe.

Peter knocked Stiles' head against the window so hard that the glass cracked. "If it makes you feel any better, at least I'm getting your powers instead of Gerard. He's such a jerk, don't you agree?" Peter tightened his grip. Stiles couldn't breathe. "Just relax," Peter whispered. "I like you, Stiles. I'll make this quick."

Stiles had been around death more than most 16-year-olds. When he considered his own, which wasn't infrequent, one thought always comforted him: reuniting with his mother. But when Peter's hands tightened around his throat, he didn't think about seeing his mother. He thought about how he wouldn't see his dad, Scott, Lydia, Derek and all of his other friends. It was that thought that reminded him that he had the ability to fight back, as well as the inspiration to.

Stiles' fingernails extended. His teeth elongated and sharpened. Three quick moves and Peter was flying through the air. Unfortunately, Stiles didn't know his own strength yet, and also neglected to separate the other werewolf from himself. Peter took Stiles with him when he crashed through the window.

They fell two stories. Peter landed in the grass on his thigh. Stiles landed on the sidewalk on his head. He rolled and came to rest on his back. Miniscule shards of glass rained down from what remained of the broken window. Peter roared and fought his way back up to his feet. He slashed his nails towards Stiles' throat like ten missiles. A shadow blocked Stiles' view, then. A dark silhouette leapt over him and tackled Peter. Stiles rotated his throbbing head, expecting to see Derek, Scott or Isaac. But it was Ethan. He kicked Peter aside and then flipped backwards, taking a defensive position in front of Stiles. Peter charged at the Alpha like a wild bull, and Ethan stood his ground.

"Stiles!" Scott slid across the grass on his knees and took his friend by the shoulders. "Oh, god," he gasped when he saw the blood on the sidewalk.

Derek sprinted over. He crouched between Stiles and the two fighting werewolves, guarding the younger man while Scott put pressure on his head wound. Isaac and Lydia ran up last. At the moment, Peter was winning. Ethan was bleeding more, limping more. But then he managed to get the upper hand, literally, when he clutched Peter's head between his fingers. The Alpha hesitated, then made eye contact with each person in the crowd. "I hope this proves that I'm on your side," he said. And then Ethan simultaneously broke Peter Hale's neck and slashed his throat. Peter slumped to his knees, sightless eyes wide and surprised, then he landed face-down in the grass, never to move again.

"Well," Isaac said, "that'll do it." He looked at Derek for confirmation but just then, Lydia swayed, clutched at her chest and fainted. Isaac caught her, shuffled her so that his arms were beneath her back and knees and carried her over to the group. "She's breathing," he said, even though they could all hear it. "Must have been too much blood for her to handle."

"Or she just experienced some mental whiplash," Stiles theorized. "She was still connected to Peter." Stiles looked up at Ethan and nodded towards him. "Thank you. You saved my life."

Ethan said nothing. He just stood there like a soldier waiting for his next order.

"Take her inside," Derek told Isaac. "I got him," he said to Scott. Stiles protested but didn't struggle when Derek lifted him up into his arms and carried him back to Scott's bedroom.