We Didn't Want To

Stiles

[ now ]

"Stiles! Stiles! Wake up, Stiles! Stiles!"
Stiles finally opens his eyes to look at Derek. He's pale, he's so pale. His eyes are not the amber color that Derek is used to, it's like energy is being sucked out from him. And Stiles is trying to talk, but he can't. Derek watches him trying, but every time he does it's like he can't breathe.
"Stiles, you're going to be ok. Please stay awake. We're almost there. Please! Stiles!"
And he's out again. He checked all over Stiles' body, but he didn't feel anything wrong, so what's happening?! There's no wound, no blood- suddenly there's blood coming out from Stiles' mouth.
He drives so fast like he never thought he would. One second his gaze is on the road and a second later on Stiles. It's terrifying because he can't listen to Stiles breathing and the smell of blood is overwhelming. Stiles' heart beat too slow and too low even for his werewolf senses. Derek doesn't realize he's still calling for Stiles' name and he has tears coming down on his face. When Derek realizes he's actually losing Stiles, he drives faster and focuses on the road. He calls Scott and maybe yells at him without wanting, but there's no way he can tell Scott what's happening with a calm voice. He yells like he's mad at Scott, and he is. He's so mad with everyone, with the world, with those men, with everything, because it's everyone's fault except Stiles'. Stiles didn't ask for this, he should never have been involved and Derek knew that. He knew and that's the worst because he failed to protect Stiles. Now Derek is angry and above all he's scared.

They finally get to the clinic where Deaton is already waiting, because that was the first thing that crossed Scott's mind when Derek called him. Scott was already rushing there, but like Derek told him: there was no time. Stiles had no time and every second mattered.
A  few minutes later Scott bursts through the vet clinic's door in a rush, head-turning right and left. The waiting chairs are empty, except for the alpha sitting to the one closest to the exam room.
"Derek!" He called, stepping hurriedly to the lycan.
Derek looks at him and stands up immediately. "Scott..."
"Stiles..?" Scott asked with overwhelming fear in his voice. Derek's words ran through his brain, Scott feels like both wanting to curl into a ball and ripping out someone's throat. Some bastards hurt his brother and he wasn't even there. Some friend he is. Fuck.
"Deaton's got him. But I don't know yet." Derek said miserably.
Derek rubs his face tiredly, he still could not believe that all this had happened. Everything was just perfect a few minutes ago.

They appeared on the corner of a street, out of nowhere, there four men standing. One of them is holding a little squirming baby in his arms wrapped in a white blanket, his trench coat flapping in the wind.
The tallest is staring at the man with dirty blond hair in concern, maybe because the latter is blank-faced. He's not crying, and he's not glaring.
After a moment the blonde steps forward next to the one holding the baby and puts a hand on his shoulder. They both look down bundle like the world is wrapped in that white blanket. 'A baby' his mind supplies. 
The blonde manages to drag his eyes away from the baby and he looks around them.
"Why here, again?" he asks.
"This is the safest place for him," The shortest of the group replies gently.
The blonde snorts.
"This is the most supernatural-free place in all of America." The tallest goes on. "I checked, and there haven't been any supernatural or mysterious crimes here. He'll be fine, Dean."
"Should we-" the blonde -Dean- hesitates after a few seconds. "Should we leave him on someone's doorstep?"
The raven-haired clutches the baby even tighter to his chest in response to that. "No."
"Let's find a hospital or something," The short one offers.
The raven-haired nods.
After a few miles of walking they stop in front of Beacon Hills Marmoreal Hospital, they all stop looking up at sign before they each give the baby one last look. The short and tall one started to walkway away leaving Dean and the raven-haired.
"We'll come back for you," Dean swears to the child. "As soon as it's safe for you." He wipes his tears away with the back of his hand before stroking a shaking finger down the baby's face and then turning around abruptly to leave.
The raven-haired gazes down at his child tear tracks covered his cheeks. He places a gentle kiss to he baby's forehead and closes his eyes.
"Excuse me?" A woman asked.
He doesn't open his eyes, nor does he lift his head.
"Sir? Are you alright?" She taps him on the shoulder and he whirls around to face her. She looks familiar.
"Mom" Stiles whispers he starts walking towards buts still is focused on the trench-coated man.
The man thrusts the baby into her arms "We had no choice."
"What? Sir, what are you talk–" she starts, but the man doesn't let her finish.
"Make sure that he is safe, and that he knows we never wanted to do this. That he was loved."
And with that, he turns and walks away, ignoring the calls of Stiles' mom and the wailing of the baby. The anger fades to regret and tears start falling again down his face.
"I love you...son" he whispers.
"Wait!" Stiles yells now running towards the man "WAIT!"
The man turns back and for the first time, Stiles looked into the man's eyes...
There blue.
Stiles automatically comes to a halt
The man walks back to his group and grabs a hold of the short man.
They were gone.

Deaton looked over Stiles's form in contemplation, eyebrows furrowed and eyes set in a troubled gaze. "So a light emitted from Mr. Stilinski burning this men's eyes out then he collapsed and what did they say again?"
Derek snarled at Deaton, angry that the man wasn't going out of his way to find answers. "That they found the Nephilim"
Deaton walked to a shelf in the far corner of the back room, sifting through various jars of herbs. "Perhaps I can attempt to use s—"
On the operation table, Stiles sat up ramrod straight, gasping like a fish out of water and shocking the two men in his presence. Derek lurched forward from his spot next to the steel table to steady Stiles, almost dropping the boy then and there when he was met with golden cracks invading those familiar whiskey-brown irises.
Then he noticed the way Stiles was staring at him, how he was letting his emotions flood through his eyes like there was nothing to hide. Derek couldn't decipher those swirls of emotions. Derek stood frozen as Stiles wandered his gaze across his face, almost like he was in search of something. When Stiles kept this up without any signs of speaking, Derek grew more worried. "Stiles."
"Derek,"
"What happened," Derek said gripping his shoulders.
"They're eyes," the boy breathed out.