i’m too good for someone like you, anyway
Derek’s never fought a demon before, never seen a demon, never even heard a whisper that they were real. In the realm of fucked up supernatural things he’s seen, demons seemed laughable, impossible. Heaven and Hell were on Earth and there wasn’t anybody pulling the strings.
The demon doesn’t want to fight, he says, doesn’t want anything to do with Derek or the pack. “Just needed somewhere to hang out for a while, this kid was good as any.”
Derek bristles at it, his fangs dropping, and he grabs Stiles’ shoulder, furious at this thing inside of him. “You can’t have him.”
“Oooh, he liked that. Think he’s been dying for you to touch him. Feels like a long time coming in here.”
Derek swallows, digs his fingers in harder. Stiles will forgive him. “You can stay here. But you can’t have him.”
“But he’s so cute.” He shrugs Derek’s hand from his shoulder and straightens his shirt. “Have you seen this mouth? Look at his eyes. Haven’t worn someone like this in ages. Last guy was like 70 and couldn’t eat anything decent without making me sick. Nice to have a young one again.”
“You keep them ‘til they wear out.” Derek’s not asking, he doesn’t have to.
“A demon like me’s a whole lot of energy for a meatsack to handle. Sometimes you get a week, sometimes you get a life. Depends on the sack, depends on their seams.”
Derek catches Stiles’ arm in his hand, squeezes hard. He flinches and jerks away. “Not so fast. You try to hurt me, you’re only gonna hurt him. You wouldn’t want to hurt this kid, would you? I can feel his trust for you pulsing around him. It’s making me nauseous.”
Derek retracts his claws, swallows hard. “Better him dead than trapped with you until he comes apart.”
“I’m offended. You don’t even know me yet.”
Derek surges forward, hand closing around Stiles’ neck, claws pressing just into the skin, teeth bared. “He isn’t yours. And I’ll tear him apart if I have to. I will tear you out of him with my teeth.”
Stiles grins, but it’s not Stiles. Stiles’ mouth has never tipped up like that, toxic and ugly and hateful. “Wouldn’t you like that? The Big Bad Wolf finally tasting Red Riding Hood.” Stiles tips his head a little. “Even now he’s not afraid of you. Claws digging into his throat, ready to tear it open, and he’s so calm. And you had no idea, did you? No idea how much he trusted you, how much he wanted you.” Stiles sucks his teeth, tsking. “Never let him join the club, never let him in.”
“Leave him. I don’t care if you take someone else. Not him.” Derek can barely breathe, can’t believe what he’s saying, wishing this on someone else, anyone but Stiles.
“The truth is, this kid was already broken and miserable before I got here.” Stiles eyes flash solid black and Derek has to look away. “None of you noticed. You didn’t notice.” Stiles pushes hard at Derek’s chest and shoves him away. It’s not werewolf strength, it’s nothing like it, it’s something else entirely, magic. It feels like something Derek doesn’t have a chance in hell of fighting.
“He asked for this. Begged. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to know what it was to be powerful. Watching all his little wolfy friends frolicking really did a number on him. You drove him to this.” Stiles claps his hands together in applause, makes a sound in his throat like a laugh from someone who’d made it to adulthood without ever doing it before. “Well done.”
Stiles turns to walk away and Derek catches his arm again, pulling him hard. He turns toward Derek’s face and shakes his head. “Touch me again and I’ll turn him to dust right now, right in front of you.”
“Did you tell him the deal? That you wear him ‘til you can’t anymore and then leave him to die?” Derek’s heart is pounding and he feels like his skin is on fire, the urge to shift clawing at him from inside.
Stiles shrugs. “It’s a handshake deal, it’s not like I wrote up a contract. He’s lucky he even got a chance to say yes. Demons aren’t exactly the type to ask for permission.”
Derek pushes his hand through his hair, he can barely breathe. “Take me, then… Please.”
Stiles laughs, twists his face into some shadowed version of sympathy. “Aww, aren’t you just the sweetest?” Stiles looks him up and down, tongue pressing at the corner of his mouth. “Not that I wouldn’t love to take a joyride in that,” he waves his hand in Derek’s direction, “But there’s only room for one otherworldly affliction at a time in there.”
Stiles walks away from Derek and even that looks wrong, the steps too long, too measured, swaying. Derek feels the shift coming over him, his fingers curling as his claws take shape.
Stiles stops for just a second, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t try it. I promise you won’t win.”
Derek stills, his entire body tense. The wolf’s ready, but Derek knows better. For now. When he sees Stiles again, Derek will be ready too.