Chapter Text
Sheriff Stilinski, hands, and ankles bound, sat next to Scott and Derek on the couch in the rebuilt Hale mansion's living room. Until moments before, it was a beautiful replication of its former glory. Now, the front door hung at an angle from one hinge, the door frame splintered beyond repair. The coffee table lay split in two, having been the landing place of one unlucky hunter taken by surprise as Derek had crept up behind him. Broken glass and fresh flowers littered the surrounding damp floor as wolfsbane gas seeped from strategically placed machines. The rest of the restrained pack members lay helplessly nearby. Three remaining hunters donned gas masks and baton stun guns, the leader trying to shake the uniformed man awake. A pained groan escaped as he regained consciousness to face the human monsters holding them captive. Dried blood caked his left temple, but no wound was visible.
"Wake up, Sheriff. I want you nice and alert when the entertainment gets here. Wouldn't want to miss it, now would you?" The leader snickered.
Noah Stilinski blinked his eyes into focus, the taste of blood prominent in his mouth. As he glanced around the room, he hoped Stiles chose this evening to stay at home. "Seems to me you've immobilized an entire werewolf pack, not to mention the town sheriff. What else could your pea-sized brains have come up with to top this?" That earned him an immediate blow to his left jaw, but this time he knew it would come, and afterward, he stared back without so much as a grimace.
"You've got quite an attitude there, Sheriff. And, you're wrong. Someone is missing. When he gets here, though, that's when the real fun begins." A pained grumble from beside Noah caught their attention.
"Others. They're dead." Scott lifted his head, a growl rumbling from his core.
Derek made eye contact with the hunter and gasped, "Some no longer pack. Left town."
Noah hoped it would be enough to sway the man, but when he threw his head back and laughed, those hopes left him. "Yes, yes, yes... I remember hearing about the loss of your huntress, the Argent girl, and another boy. Aiden, was it? Then Argent and your Isaac went overseas. The Whittemore boy left before that mess. I believe my information is quite accurate. That leaves the one person we came to dispose of before he becomes a bigger threat."
"Who?" Derek and Scott asked. The hunter laughed in answer and sat across from them to wait, watching them closely. Noah felt his skin crawl as he stared at the maniac. There was a reason he wanted him here, and his bad feelings kept getting worse. Low growls came from his left. A moment or two passed before the man's radio crackled to life.
"H-1, Acquisition successful. En route. ETA five ." The disembodied voice was gruff and muffled.
The hunter lifted his mask and replied to his colleague with a sickening grin.
"Copy, H-5. Area secure. H-4 Expired ."
Several seconds passed with nothing but static. "Copy ."
An occasional whimper sounded through the otherwise quiet room as they waited for the inevitable shit-storm to come. Everyone knew the worst was not over but hoped the one Scott and Derek had kicked out of the pack for safety wasn't who the hunter meant. Four minutes later, an unfamiliar vehicle carelessly raced up the driveway. Another minute had a car door opening and shutting, then the car's trunk popped. There were no voices, but everyone knew the telling scent, even as it mixed with the wolfsbane.
Noah, Scott, and Derek watched the door as the lead hunter watched them. Seconds later, a large man stepped inside carrying Stiles' bound, gagged, and motionless body over his shoulder. He leaned forward to drop him. Stiles' body hit the floor with a sickening thud. "Now, now, H-5, is that any way to treat our entertainment for the evening? Put him in the recliner. Wouldn't want him falling over when we have our fun." Without care, H-5 grabbed Stiles by the hair and yanked him over and into the chair.
Derek and Scott snarled as Noah yelled. "Get your hands off my son!"
"Sheriff, you're hardly in the position to tell us what we can or can't do to him. The wolfsbane has every werewolf in this room as helpless as a kitten, so they will not be much help. Your parts are merely to sit back and watch, so get comfortable." He pulled a small bottle from his shirt pocket and tossed it to H-5. "Wake him up. I'm itching to have some fun."
The burly hunter caught the bottle and yanked the cloth from Stiles' mouth. He groaned but didn't wake until the man held the open bottle beneath his nose for a few seconds. Stiles jerked awake hard and fast, eyes going wide as he realized he couldn't move. Then he noticed the state of everyone around him. His dad and alphas were on the couch across from him, and the pack scattered on the floor. "What do you want?"
H-5 laughed as H-1 smiled and drew a baton from his belt. "We want answers, Stilinski, and we're going to have a lot of fun getting them." He ran the tip of his weapon from the middle of his chest to his groin. Derek growled viciously. "Or else, your father and all your little friends here will pay with their lives. Got it?" Stiles glanced around the room once more, his jaw set, and nodded.
"I can guarantee you someone here will die this evening, including you. But, if you're a good boy for me, I might let you choose between these two mutts here and your daddy." There was no wicked smile from H-1 this time. His jaw was a hard line with teeth clenched, his nostrils flared, and his eyes were ice.
Stiles tilted his head and cut his eyes at the leader, staring just as hard. "If you're smarter than you look, you'll forget about this and get your men out of here, now."
The hunters laughed, amused with the boy's warning. "You are your father's son, thinking you have the least bit of control here." H-1 stepped to the side of the chair and bent to eye level with Stiles. He grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back to expose his neck, and licked slowly from the clavicle to under his ear. "I'd love to show you how little control you have. Such a waste, having to kill a pretty little piece of ass like you."
"Don't touch him!" Noah was red-faced, trying to get loose. H-5 punched him, knocking him sideways across the arm of the couch.
"Stop! Just tell me what the hell you want!" Stiles spoke through gritted teeth.
H-1 snorted. "H-5, be nice and help the good man. Make him watch." H-5 did as he was told and put Noah back into a seated position, holding his head as the leader extended his baton. "My boss said this boy, for whatever reason, survived a nogitsune possession. The thought of him ever becoming a werewolf makes my boss nervous. So, Sheriff Stilinski, I am ever so sorry for the loss you will endure this evening."
H-1 turned to Stiles and placed the tip of his baton over his heart. "Say goodnight, Stiles." With the press of a button, the weapon surged to life, sending electricity through Stiles' body. Noah yelled, his voice heartbreaking, while murderous growls came from the weakened wolves. H-1 continuously held it over his heart until Stiles' body fell limp under his gaze.