Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The iron giant behind him managed to bend backwards enough to get stiles feet to lift off the ground, the spikes in his cleats making their last scraping protest before they were airborne. He barely had enough time to grunt out a sound of protest at being manhandled even more than he was, before dickhead number two punched him in the stomach again. He let out a miserable moan, wondering how many hits he could take before his skin gave up on holding his guts in and split. He took a few more bone crushing hits to his rib cage and abdomen before the iron giant made a maneuver that swung stiles feet into the air as he tossed him to the side to connect painfully with the asphalt.

His knees crackled with audible accuracy with the pavement, a painful ringing ran deep within his bones. Stiles felt sick at the sound. Would his knees even fucking work after this? Had the pavement completely obliterated them because that's exactly what it felt like. Hell. He heard the whoosh of a boot before it hit him. Even with some of his gear hanging on, the hit went straight to his core. He saw stars.

This was just his fucking luck. He had made most of the 12-8 game winning shots tonight in lacrosse. Not scott, not Jackson, him. Stiles. The kid who thought his ass had a permanent seat on the bench until tonight. His dad had made it, Melissa cheered for him, Lydia even smiled at him after the winning shot. For the first time in his life he felt valued on the team. Things were going great, until they suggested the diner and stiles said he’d ride with scott and Allison in her car he just needed to grab his wallet from the trunk where his bag sat. It was his fault for going alone after crushing their famed rivals. But he would have never guessed that while everyone was still celebrating, and hugging and planning their late night dinner, that he’d be getting his ass royally kicked out in the dark parking lot. Alone. Like he always is. The weak human, always getting into shit he cant handle. And tonight, it wasn’t even against the supernatural. Although he had some ideas where the beefy meathead who was currently fracturing bones in his face while meathead two kicked him in the side enough to ensure he had no air in his lungs, was on. And that drug had some supernatural side-effects so maybe all wasn’t lost. 

“alright man, I think he’s had enough” someone with some sense said, after stiles coughed up enough blood to second guess his chances of survival. “look at him, he can’t even focus his eyes”

Well he wasn’t wrong. He was seeing triple at this point, and he wondered if his lips were still lips and not saucy shredded pieces of skin on his face. All he could do was breathe through his mouth at this point, hoping that this guy had had enough fun.

“give me the camera, so I can take pictures” and stiles heart dropped. They were going to spread these images all over the internet for anyone with eyes to see. What if his dad came across them. He would, especially if he came home like this. God…his dad…

"take his gear off"

"nhnno" he moaned, holding onto his braces for as he could, but his goons snatched it away from him like it was nothing. 

"Don't worry Stilinksi, Jared will take real good care of it. Just like I'm going to take real good care of you" He said, receiving the camera from Jared and kneeling into his personal space. 

"What...did I...do" he said.

"nothing stiles, nothing" he cooed. He looked around and then motioned for them to grab stiles. "lets go to the trees"

---

Stiles hit the dirt with an oompf! He began to turn onto his stomach and felt a weight drop onto his back. 

"no, stiles, I actually think this'll be alright" he says, and stiles can hear the grin on his fucking face. Immediately his heart drops. 

"what're you do-"

The solid clunk! of his fist driving across the top of his head reverberates in his teeth, Stiles vision flickers. 

"Did I fucking tell you to speak?!"

"no-" dammit stiles!

Another hit, from the other side, the guy drops the phone beside stiles head and flips him onto his back. Stiles doesn't even get a chance to let out a cry of protest before he's being punched again. This is getting old, he thought. Then he felt the familiar pang of panic as he felt himself losing consciousness. 

"mm losing-" another hit. "I'm gonna pass-"

Jared finally stopped his dickhole of a friend so stiles could get out his fucking words. He was going to pass out. He needed him to know he was going to pass out not because he wanted to be there for whatever they had planned, but he didn't want to not be there. He didn't want them to have free reign on his unconcious body. The thoughts of what they would do sent a shiver down his spine. 

"Let him fucking speak dude" Jared said. 

"What" he said, tipping his chin towards stiles. 

"I'm losing....consciousness" he said in between breaths. It was getting hard for him to breathe. He felt the familiar onset of a panic attack rising deep in his gut. 

"Garrett, lets go. Take the fucking pictures, and let's go"

Ah. Garret. Nice to put a name to a face. faces. stiles was seeing several at this point. 

"Did I fucking ask you to speak?"

"He's the son of the fucking sheriff dude. It's bad enough we beat the shit out of him, let's just go"

"yeah" Stiles sighed, his voice cracking. A slap. He's starting to get creative, he thought. 

Scott. Where was Scott. How could he not realized how long Stiles' been gone. I mean the parking lot isnt miles away for fucks sake. Someone has to be wondering where he is. I mean, he won them the game tonight, jesus christ. 

A light flicked on, blinding him. He squinted his eyes, feeling the swollen state of his eyelids. He wouldn't be here much longer. The looming darkness pulled at the corners of his consciousness. He heard Jared speaking, and Garrett laughing, but no real words. He felt his mouth open, something went into it, but he couldn't see. Couldn't taste anything except for blood and embarrassment. He'd be the laughing stock of the school, again.  Suddenly the light was gone, and so was the weight on his abdomen. But the spots were still floating in his vision from the brightness. Stiles felt a pull at his foot, stretching it out, then a tug at the waistband of his pants. 

A puff of air hit his bellybutton. 

fuck. he thought. 

And then everything was dark and cold. Colder than when the Nogitsune had claim over his entire being. This was a dreadful darkness, because he knew exactly who had found him, and it wasn’t Scott.