Sterek(oneshots)

Riddled

The buzzing of Derek's phone pulled him from his book. He hadn't been able to get to sleep so he decided to get some late night reading in.

He grabbed the phone and frowned at the name that flashed across the screen.

"Stiles?" Derek answered. If the teen had accidentally butt dialed him again, he wasn't going to be happy.

"Derek, Derek, oh thank god," Stiles' voice was releaved and hushed.

"What's wrong?" Derek frowned. Stiles rarely sounded so off.

"I can't get a hold of Scott again, I need help, I- I don't know where I am."

"What do you mean you don't know where you are? Stiles, what's going on?" Derek sat up, more alert now.

"It's too dark, I can't see anything. And I can't move, my leg, something is wrong with my leg," Stiles whimpered into the phone, causing Derek's heart to clench.

"Stiles, you've got to give me something, I need to know where you are," Derek was already up and grabbing his car keys.

"It's cold and it smells awful, it's so bad, my eyes are watering," Stiles answered his voice no louder than before.

"Stiles, why are you whispering?" Derek pulled open the loft door.

"Cause I think there's someone else here with me."

Derek faltered, his panic rising. Had someone taken Stiles?

"Stiles, I'm gonna find you, just-" Before Derek could finish the sentence, the call dropped.

"Damn it," he swore as he tried to redial Stiles' number.

Straight to voicemail.

-

Derek pulled up to Stiles' house to see that Lydia and Scott's cars were already there.

"Derek, I was just about to call you, it's-"

"Stiles, I know, he called me," Derek nodded as he entered Stiles' room. He stopped short when he saw the state it was in.

Dozens of red strings were pinned from his wall to a pair of scissors that had been driven into the mattress.

"What the-"

"He called you? What did he say?" Scott asked, an urgency in his tone.

"He doesn't know where he is. It's cold and dark," Derek inspected the different pictures on the wall. There were tons, cases that his dad had previously worked, cases the pack had been working on, different pages that looked like they'd been ripped from a book. Some on hallucinations, some on the studies of insomnia.

"He told me he thinks he's in a basement," Scott piped in then, hoping it would offer some insight to the others in the room.

"His leg is hurt. He can't move," Derek's eyes continued to scan the wall for any idea as to where Stiles might have gone. "And it smells."

"We need to call his dad," Lydia pulled out her phone.

"He asked me not to," Scott objected stopping the red head.

"Lydia's right," Derek turned, a scowl on his face. "He thinks he's not alone. If someone took him then we need to get the cops involved."

"I promised," Scott shifted nervously. He hated breaking promises to Stiles.

"I didn't," Lydia started to dial the sheriff's number.

"Don't call him, we can stop by the station, it's close."