Chapter Text
Its a full moon. He's running. Everything is blurry, and red. Everything is red. Dark shapes shift and tree limbs fly. He's in the forest somewhere. He smells alcohol. It burns his lungs. He can hear nameless voices, more shapes shifting over each other. A shape is breaking away from his vision. There are no thoughts. He lunges for it.
Someone screams.
Derek wakes up.
He wakes as if from underwater with a gasp for breath, breaching the real world. He blinks several times until his eyes adjust to the afternoon sunlight brimming through the windows in the loft. He feels his face with clammy hands.
He isn't in the forest, he's home, in his bed.
He adjusts for a minute, then sits up slowly. A dull pain, like a sore muscle or a freshly healed wound throbs on the side of his neck. He reaches up to rub it cautiously. What is that from? An unfamiliar blanket covers his lap, and when he moves from the bed, he discovers his junk. He doesn't sleep naked. There are particles of dirt in the wrinkled bed sheets.
He listens for another presence in the dwelling, and when there isn't an obvious one, Derek stands from the bed. He definitely doesn't need Cora walking in. Spying his pants from yesterday on the floor, he picks them up and shakes them out. He spies the dried blood on them before seeing it. It isn't his own blood. It smells like salt and stale life and someone very familiar.
"Ah, you're awake."
Derek drops the jeans and spins around to face Peter, statuesque at the top of the spiral stair case.
"What happened?" Derek asks, still fighting for full alacrity. Edges of memories tickle his mind, teasing him. His insides seem wrong, all inside-out and backwards.
"You don't remember?" Peter walks down the stairs with his air of nonchalance, his voice just as lofty. It makes Derek desperately want to get his hands around his neck.
"If I did, why would I be asking?"
"No," Peter pauses, stopping at the large dining table, contemplating. "I just think its a little surprising that you don't."
"Remember what?" Derek's patience is beginning to peel, that bad feeling becoming stronger. The feeling of being out of the loop is the worst.
Peter smooths a hand over the table they mostly used for discussing plans, not eating dinner. "During the full moon last night, you lost control." He kind of smiles a bit, like the statement affords him a little drop of twisted happiness. "It seems your stress is catching up to you."
Derek opens his mouth to argue, but stops. He remembers his nightmare, and how real it felt. Like he completely lost his control. Had he? He stays quiet.
Peter sobers and continues on gingerly, "You did something... Bad last night."
"I lost control."
"Well. Not just that."
The blood on his jeans. Derek's backwards insides knot. He hurt someone. "How bad was it?"
"I don't know. On a scale of 'Yikes' to 'Unforgivable' do you rank attacking Scott's friend?"
Derek's stomach sink. "Which friend?"
"Oh, the loud one, what is his name? I've never really liked him, truthfully. He talks too much and he is so... Twitchy. Is he on medication"
Derek's stomach falls out of his body and hits the floor with a splat.
Stiles. The blood was Stiles'. Oh no.
"I attacked Stiles? Is he..."
Upon seeing Derek's distress, Peter mends, "Don't make that face, he's alive. But you did a real number on the poor, twitchy boy. Broke his leg like a twig." He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully.
All at once, vivid memories from the night before splatter the inside of Derek's head.
Moonlit night and Derek is loping through the forest on all fours, weaving between trees at break-neck speed. Everything was red because of his werewolf eyes. In the rarity that is a full-fledged wolf form, a person loses sight of colors completely. Except for one: red. Strangely enough, the effect is the exact opposite of a dog, who can perceive just about every color besides red. Just another werewolf thing.
Then he saw the figures. People, he realizes now. His friends.
Without control, the shapes heralded all of his attention. Like a shark to blood. He honed in on one of the shapes and lunged. He remembered a cracking sound, and the same scream from his dream.
Oh, God. It was Stiles who screamed. It was Stiles, running away from him.
Derek flies to his uncle and snatches him by the collar, getting in his face. "If you were there, why didn't you stop me?"
His uncle huffs, unphased. "Because Scott was faster than me. And look where you're swinging that thing."
Scott. Derek could throw up pure guilt right there on his uncle's shoes. "But why wasn't I in control?" He is always in control. All the time.
"Your guess is as good as mine, nephew. Maybe that classic rage you use to anchor yourself is getting soft?"
Derek frowns intensely for a moment, but backs off. "Do you know where they are?"
"Six Flags. The hospital, of course." As soon as the sarcastic words leave Peter's mouth, Derek is looking for his car keys. "I don't know if that's such a good idea right now. Derek?"
Derek ignores him and snatches his car keys off the floor. He's headed out the door when his uncle blocks him. Sometimes Derek forgets how fast he can be. "Move, Peter."
"Just what do you think you're going to accomplish barging into the hospital?"
"I'm going to apologize. Something you're unfamiliar with."
Peter theatrically puts a hand over his chest. "Amazing, your lack of forethought. Also, ouch."
"Move your ass, or I'll move it for you."
"Seriously, Derek. Do you think you're going to get anywhere near that boy without Scott killing you?"
Derek narrows his eyes. He hadn't thought of that. And if anything, the angel Scott was at his best friend's side this very moment.
"He would've killed you last night if I hadn't broken your neck to knock you out and drag you away. Which, by the way, I could've left you there to be found by a frisky bear. Did I hear a, 'thank you Uncle, for being awesome'? No."
That explained the lingering pain. Derek glares. "I'm going anyway." He needs to at least try. He's hurt enough people in his life already. He starts to shove past his uncle but his uncle puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Just one more thing." Peter says.
"What?" Derek snaps, even closer to strangling him.
Peter gestures down to Derek's bare body. "I think the hospital requires its guests to wear clothes."