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Stiles slowly blinked back to consciousness, lifting his head from where it rested against his chest.
“Sammy, I think he’s wakin’ up,” a voice broke through the fog in Stiles head. Not one he remembered though. “Hey, kid. You okay?”
Stiles blinked a little more, squinting as he saw two forms across from him.
“Scott?” He called out, trying to make out his friend from one of them.
“Uh, sorry, there’s not a Scott here,” a different voice said.
Stiles shook his head, looking around the room he was in. He tried to move his arms but found they were tied behind him, arms around a pillar of some kind. It felt like chain cuffs around his wrists. Stiles didn’t have to move much to know there were chains around his torso too.
“Kid, you still with us?” The first voice asked. His was more rough and deep.
“Yeah. Yes, I’m conscious,” Stiles responded. He tried to look at the people again, vaguely making them out. “Though I’m not sure for how long.”
“Dean, I think he has a concussion.”
Sammy and Dean. Stiles could work with that.
“Thank you Captain Obvious. I totally couldn’t figure that out on my own,” Stiles said, tipping his head back so it was leaning against the pillar.
A chuckle was heard echoing in the room, probably the other man.
Stiles tried to block them out so that he could think. He was chained up, with a concussion, and most likely bleeding since he felt wetness. Unless he peed. Oh god, he hoped he didn’t pee himself, that’d suck. But Derek did say that pee had a stronger scent so it would be easier to find hi-
Focus Stiles.
Okay, so he’s chained and injured. What was the last thing he remembered? Home. He was home. No, he was walking home. Why was he walking? Where was his jeep again?
Stiles shook his head, trying to remember. Opening his eyes, he looked around him again for clues.
“Kid, you alright?” The voice of Sammy asked.
“Stiles. My names Stiles,” the boy said, then shut his eyes with a grimace. “Why did I tell a stranger that. Probably the concussion talking.”
“Well I’m Sam and this is Dean,” the man said, clarifying what Stiles already knew. Though ‘Sammy’ was now ‘Sam’. Thinking more about it though, Stiles looked back at them, persistent to get some details.
“You’re the Animal Control guys who were talking to my dad,” Stiles remembered.
“The Sheriff is your dad?” Dean asked.
“But why would you guys be here?” Stiles asked himself, ignoring him. “Why am I here?” He grimaced. “Ugh, I hate having concussions.”
“Do you get them often?” Sam asked, drawing Stiles attention again.
Stiles had just enough filter to know he shouldn’t say the obvious.
“Yeah, I play lacrosse in school,” Stiles said. “I’m not that great at it.” Wait, lacrosse. He was walking home from lacrosse. His jeep hadn’t started, and Scott was off trying to find a lead on Ka-
“Oh god,” Stiles muttered. He looked around him again in a frenzy. “Oh, come on!” Kate Argent was wanting Derek and Scott, so she grabbed Stiles.
“Hey hey, kid what’s going on? You zoned out,” Dean told him.
Stiles looked back at the two. Shit. Everything was starting to piece together. Sam and Dean.
“Winchester,” Stiles muttered. Shit, shit, shit, the men were the hunters. Why is his life never normal now?
“What did you say?” Sam asked, looking concerned. But Stiles couldn’t let himself waver.
“Nothing,” the kid said, deflecting. Sam and Dean must have been on her trail, so she got them too. “Just the concussion.” Stiles kept quiet about his friends.
“Alright, well just make sure you stay awake,” a voice said, Stiles knowing it as Dean this time. But as he heard him speaking, Stiles' vision began to go in and out again.
“Hey!”
Stiles’s head jolted, looking around himself before finding the two people across from him.
“I thought I said to stay awake,” Dean told him. Stiles looked at him, seeing movement through the fuzziness.
“What are you doing?” Stiles asked.
“What’s it look like? We’re getting out of here,” Dean said, which then Stiles heard a muffled yell. “God, that always hurts like a son of a bitch,” Dean groaned.
Stiles tried to see better, but he couldn’t see anything.
“You see where she put our guns?” Dean asked to which Sam answered. Stiles tried to look in that direction, but his head was starting to get heavy.
“Kid?”
“Stiles, can you hear me?”
The next thing Stiles remembers is loud noises. Yelling and clanging, but the one that pulled him from his daze was the roar. He lifted his head, having forgotten the people in the room with him. “Derek…” Stiles murmured, then gathered everything in him and yelled. “Hey! Hey- I’m in here!”
“Hey be quiet!” Dean’s voice said in a whisper shout, but this time it was right by his ear. Stiles didn’t even have enough time to turn his head before a hand had clamped over his mouth.
Stiles could understand Dean’s position, being a hunter and thinking Stiles was a civilian. His mouth covered, Stiles listened as much as he could to what was happening outside, but the sound was beginning to die down. Not hearing anything, the boy began to panic. That was his pack out there and they needed proof he was alive. He was trapped in what looked like a hidden room. So, Stiles bit down on Dean’s hand, making him swear and pull back.
“I’m in here!” Stiles yelled as loud as he could, it ringing on the walls. “I’m here! I’m alive!” He shut his eyes, but after a few moments, he heard it. And so did Dean because Stiles heard the cock of a gun.
A loud roar, then more thrashing sounds, crashing. Then there was a gun shot. Everything was quiet again and Stiles had frozen. No. No, no no.
“No!!” Stiles yelled, struggling at the chains. “No, no- can’t be- shit-“ His blurry eyes started to blur more with angry tears before he heard footsteps. Multiple footsteps.
Then suddenly a brick wall had a fist through it, breaking an opening. In stepped Scott, eyes alpha red and bearing his teeth. Stiles had a smile on his face seeing him alive and still having a fight in him. But that was until he heard the click of a gun. His reaction time was slowed, but soon enough Stiles came back to focus and he was seeing his best friend on the floor with a hand to his leg.
“Scott!” Stiles yelled, his throat going sore from being dry and well used.
“What…?” Sam’s voice almost didn’t catch Stile’s attention, but he looked away from Scott to the man, seeing shock on his face. Not minding him anymore attention, Stiles saw Derek emerge into the room in a similar way with his eyes blue. Stiles immediately looked up at where Dean was standing still with his gun up and pointing.
Stiles moved his leg just in time, kicking Dean as he was about to shoot the gun, no doubt with wolfsbane bullets. Dean dropped the gun in surprise and Stiles kicked that away too.
Stiles brought his limited focus to Derek, who was now moving to stalk over to the hunters with his werewolf form still out.
“No! No Derek, stop,” Stiles rushed out. “Don’t hurt them, they didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.”
The werewolf stopped, probably giving them his 'sourwolf' face before he turned and made his way to kneeling in front of Stiles. He could feel Derek break the chains around him before checking him over. Stiles felt the hands go over his arms and legs, giving enough pressure to see if anything was broken. Eventually he got to Stiles knee and the boy winced.
“Dumbass, you’re bleeding,” Derek told him. "Your leg is broken. Do you know how that happened?"
“I don't know, can't remember much. I'm glad it wasn’t pee though,” Stiles said, sounding relieved. “I know you said something about pee having a stronger scent, but I didn’t really want that to be how you fou-“
A familiar hand pressed against his mouth and Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes.
“Never mind that, you probably have a concussion too so save your breath." Derek's words made sense and Stiles watched his eyes glow their calming blue.