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A Grimm Visit	By : AkumaKawa Category: S through Z > Teen Wolf Views: 4549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and Grimm are not owned by me, no money made.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N This is it. The scene that started it all.

The minute I saw episode 3 of season 2 and Derek kicks Scott's ass I had this image of Scott's phone ringing and Stiles at the other end needing help. I always had Derek coming to his rescue.

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much I enjoyed creating it. It most certainly could not have been done without my amazing betas, Anna (Just_a_pinch) and Andy. You also have them to blame for the three month wait. Well, real life issues in their lives keeping them busy. You also have them to thank for this chapter being as wonderful as it is.

A Grimm Visit

Chapter 8

Derek stood at the center of the rink after having thoroughly trounced Scott at his feeble and brash attempt of a challenge against Derek. He had just started to walk away when he heard Scott's phone ring. Derek paused his footsteps, recognizing it as the tune that Stiles had set for himself on Scott's cell phone. Isaac had told him earlier that Stiles wasn't in school and didn't know where he was. He didn't have his phone number and Scott refused to tell them.

Derek bent down to pick up the phone and sent a sharp look at Scott telling him not to do anything and answered the phone.

"Scott thank god you're there. I need your help. Something strange is going on here in Portland and I think someone or something is hunting me and –"

Needed help? Hunting him? Derek cut off Stiles' rambling with a clear order. "Stiles. Calm down." Derek took a short breath and then continued calmly, "Explain, slowly. What do you mean you need help?"

Derek could hear Stiles take a deep, calming breath over the phone. "My dad was pissed after Isaac escaped. He went and volunteered to work a case in another state and took me with him."

That explained why he disappeared, but not why he was in danger. Derek realized that Stiles was just filling the void with unnecessary information as he tried to explain the full situation and that wasn't what was needed, so he testily replied, "Stiles. Get to the point. Not blabbering about your melodramatic hissy fit over being punished by your dad."

Stiles spoke in a petulant tone. "Punished for helping you, I might add!"

Derek's voice was clear and filled with warning, "Stiles."

Derek could hear Stiles take another deep breath and prepared himself for another rant. "I'm seeing things. Things no else around me is seeing. I'm also being watched."

"What things, are you seeing?" Derek asked, concerned, the frown highly pronounced. Other shifters? A Kanima? Something else? "What do mean you're being watched?" Derek asked a little more loudly than intended and Derek could hear the silence in the rink as the betas around him listened in on the conversation. Even Scott, who had been trying to sit up in an effort to try to grab back his phone, had stopped and was staring at Derek.

Derek could hear the fear and confusion in his voice, "I was walking down the street the other day. I bumped into this guy. He started to shift." Stiles quickly added, "Not like you guys." Stiles took a small breath and swallowed as if the next words would be difficult to say "He was suddenly shaking his head back and forth and this clear film-like veil disappeared and underneath it was something not human. The really freaky part was that no one else noticed." No one noticed? At all? Derek started to get worried. "I'm on the sidewalk of a busy street, dozens of people around me and no ones notices that a middle-aged man suddenly turned into a were-mouse!"

"Were-mouse?" Derek choked out, surprise evident in his voice. He sent a sharp warning look to Isaac when he heard him chuckle. A were-mouse might sound funny to the uninformed but with no one else seeing them when they transformed could mean only one thing. Wesen, Derek thought with mounting dread.

"Well, he's a type of were, right? Like you guys? A shape-shifter?" Stiles sounds as if he's looking for reassurance, that this were-mouse is a possibility, that this isn't something to be afraid of. All Derek can do is think that he needs more information because if it is Wesen... If it's Wesen, then bad things are going to happen and Stiles will be in the thick of it.

Derek speaks carefully, fearing the answers to the questions he has, "You said no one else noticed? Did he say anything?"

"I'm not sure. It may have been something with a g, but he was stuttering and ran off." Something with a g? Derek feels his heart start to beat a little faster. He can hear his betas turn to him with their full attention. They can hear the pace of his heart pick up and it's a signal to them that something is wrong, something is putting Stiles in danger.

Derek takes a calming breath. Foolishly trying to force the universe to conform to his thinking, his wants and desires. It might be nothing, just another type of shifter I haven't heard about. He takes another breath, trying to center himself and calm his heart down. It's not, it can't be... Stiles continues, "But the girl one I ran into in the library said grim before she ran off."

The very moment that Stiles spoke the word Grimm Derek felt panic in a way he hadn't felt since the night of the fire. Fear, urgency and worry erupt in him. Derek could have sworn his heart stopped, but he knows it hasn't. He feels it pound even faster in his chest as his body fills with adrenaline that rushes through him.

Derek's betas pick up on Derek's emotions and a feeling of danger and he can hear Erica and Isaac picking themselves up. He can hear Boyd on top of the Zamboni looking around for a threat and he can hear Scott's heartbeat pick up as well.

Derek knows what he has to do. He must confirm it even though he knows what he heard. Even though he knows what this means. He has to have it confirmed to kill all of his doubt and hope that he heard it wrong, he must destroy it in order to prepare himself and his pack for what is to come. When Derek speaks it is with an utter calm that is completely opposite of what he feels, "Stiles, repeat just what you told me. Slowly."

"The girl were-mouse I ran into at the library yesterday said the word grim before she ran off." The hair on the back of his neck stood up as the word he was dreading was repeated. He could no longer deny it. Stiles is a Grimm. It reverberates inside his head like a ringing bell he can't stop.

In the face of such drastic and detrimental information, Derek was proud of himself for being able to keep his voice steady, "You said you were being watched. Are you sure?"

Derek could hear Stiles' voice shake as he told him, "I saw a were-lizard yesterday across the street. He looked right at me Derek. He knew I could see him."

Dread turns Derek's veins to ice. "Shit."

Stiles' voice is low and soft with a touch of fear. "Derek?" There is a pause and Derek knew if Stiles was in this room Derek would be able to smell the stench of Stiles' terror. "This is bad, right?"

Derek slips into his Alpha persona to keep control of the situation. Information was what was important now and keeping Stiles calm enough to provide it was vital. "Where are you, right now?"

Stiles' voice catches, "My hotel room."

Derek took a breath, turned to look at Scott and saw the worry plain on his face with the other betas starting to follow suit as they realized the situation going on. They could hear the phone conversation with Stiles and they knew that someone or something was after him. "I want you to lock yourself in your room. Find a way to block the door, use a chair or dresser." Derek didn't want to think about how flimsy a protection it would be. Only seconds or minutes would be gained by that depending on which type of Wesen came after Stiles. "You need a weapon, find a knife, break off a leg of a chair or table, just get something." Derek could hear Stiles' breathing pick up as he caught on to the fact that he really was in trouble. "I want you to keep calm Stiles. You can't panic. I'm coming to get you."

Stiles sucked in a breath and squeaked out, "Derek, my dad's here too."

Derek Hale, visiting the Sheriff's underage son in their hotel room? That could be a problem. "In the room?"

"No," Stiles breathed out. He took a quick breath. "He's at the police department." Stiles paused and warned Derek, "Derek if I disappear from my room he's going to go nuts."

Derek knew that was very likely but the alternative was worse. Stiles' infamous trouble magnet aura had attracted some Wesens' attentions and while the first two were benign citizens, he also attracted some unwanted ruthless type as well. This could go very badly. The more ruthless type of Wesen weren't kind to the Grimms they found. In fact they were more of the position to torture and kill any and all Grimms they found.

"We'll deal with it when I get there. For now, just prepare yourself." Derek took a breath as the next order was going to be tough. He was Stiles' lifeline at the moment and to tell him to hang up was going to drive Stiles into panic mode. "I'm going to hang-up, after I do that I need you to text me the address of the hotel and then I want you to have the local police department on speed dial."

Derek could hear Stiles' heartbeat pick up even more as the worry registered over the phone, "Derek, do you think–?"

With a level, even voice Derek calmly relays to Stiles, "Stiles. I'm coming." But his voice betrays him as speaks the next word, "Ju–st wait for me."

Stiles' voice is meek as he answers with a single syllable. "'kay."

Derek ends the call. He takes a quick breath and tosses it to Scott who is now in the process of trying to stand up as he's still injured and it hurts to move. The anger at Scott's challenge still sits uneasy within Derek which is why he is brusque when he commands him, "Get over to Deaton's, get yourself patched up, and await my orders."

Scott's face turns distinctly unhappy at the words await my orders. Stiles is his friend and Derek isn't his Alpha to be able to tell him what to do. But the worry wins out over the anger. Stiles comes first. But that isn't enough to stop him from questioning Derek over what the hell just happened. "What's going on? Why's Stiles in trouble?"

Derek knows that Scott is worried about Stiles but there is a certain sadistic glee in telling Scott, "Nothing you can handle. I'm going to help him. You focus on getting yourself healed."

Switching his attention to the other betas, he gives them their orders, "You three go home. Sit tight and wait for my call. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Scott's voice echoes as he yells at Derek, "Derek! Tell me what's going on! Damnit Derek, he's my best friend!"

With a certain ruthlessness towards Scott's childish behavior, Derek tells him the truth. "Scott the more you delay me the more time it will take to get to Stiles and prevent him from getting killed." He turns around and stares at Scott as that sinks in, "Now do you want to have another fight here or do you want me to go save Stiles?"

Derek hears the quiet gasp from Erica, "Stiles is going to die?" It reminds him of the urgency of the situation and he turns and starts to walk away and tosses out, "I'm leaving. You have your orders. Reach me if anything changes."

The door slams shut behind Derek, the sound echoing in the quiet rink. The four of them stand staring at the spot where Derek's back used to be. They look at each other fleetingly and then quickly go do as Derek commanded.

Derek could hear the ring tone of the text message arriving as he walked out of the building to his Camaro. He checked with the details on the hotel address as he got in and text Stiles back to reiterate that he was on his way and drove off like a bat out of hell.

The knowledge that Stiles is a Grimm is distressing. Stiles never had the persona of the Grimms that he was told about as a child. Grimms didn't care to make a distinction between Wesen and shifters and many a time a Grimm would take the head off a werewolf instead of a Blutbaden. They also didn't care to learn the difference between the two since to them they were all inhuman and deserved to die.

The knowledge that Stiles is part of the blood thirsty line of hunters that make the Argents look tame and civilized is something that Derek still can't quite accept. It's not the fear that Stiles might endanger them, it's Stiles after all, but it's the other part of being a Grimm. Not only are they hunters but they are also hunted as well.

There is no middle ground for Grimms. If Grimms don't fall into line of accepting orders then they're marked for death by the Royal Families. Reapers, what if it's Reapers Stiles saw? Derek feels shivers race down his spine at the thought and has to physically shake it off. He can't think about that. He can't think about the danger that Stiles is in. What he needs to do is drive, just get there.

Derek won't do Stiles any good if he gets distracted by his thoughts and crashes his car. Damnit Stiles, why is it always you?

Derek drives until his gas gets low and pulls over to a gas station to refill. While there he decides to call Stiles to check on him. The phone rings and rings and goes to voice mail. A small susurration begins in the back of his mind and he stubbornly pushes it away. He calls again and again with the same result, voice mail. The susurration getting louder.

Derek stands there with the phone in his hand thinking about the situation. Maybe he's on the phone with Scott. He calls Scott who picks up on the third ring and tersely asks, "Did Stiles call you?"

Scott's voice is confused as he answers, "What? No. I haven't talked to him. Derek what's going on?"

The small susurration becomes louder as a murmurer. Derek in frustration tells Scott, "Nothing. Just call me if he calls you." He ends the call and leans his body back against the side of his car as he continues to pump gas in. He tilts his head up looking at the metal roof, He's just busy. The phone battery died. Something...not...not that.

The pump clicks, Derek puts the the pump in its slot, screws in the gas cap, and gets in his car. Once more he tries to call Stiles. Again, it goes to voice mail. The murmurer becomes a solid voice softly calling to Derek. He pushes it away turns on the radio and drives off determined not to think about it.

The drive is long. Twice more he tried to call Stiles. Nothing changed, just the voice mail answering him. When he gets to Portland it's near midnight. He gunned the car speeding through the states to reach the city as fast as he could. He drives through the deserted streets making his way to the hotel.

A block away he sees the lights on top of the cars and his heart stutters. It pounds in his chest as he coasts down the street the lights get brighter as he gets closer to his destination. There's several police cars parked in front of the hotel. Derek drives past the police cars and turns on the next street. He parks away from the hotel, sitting there for a minute trying to figure out what to do. It could be a coincidence. It might not be... Derek slams the thought away before it can sprout.

He gets out of the car and walks slowly to the hotel making sure to be quiet and not gain attention. He slips in through a side door that was propped open for the police to go in and out. He finds the stairwell and walks up slowly, listening in to any conversations he can hear. It's mostly the susurrus of police chatter and too indistinct to be able to determine what is actually being said.

The closer he gets to Stiles' floor the more clear the voices become and the stronger and faster his heart beats. His mind is clear by shear force of will to ignore the thoughts that are haunting him with their whispers.

Derek reaches Stiles' floor and the police chatter becomes clear. He can tell its coming from this floor, that the cops are swarmed on this floor. The voice comes back – yelling at him – but Derek pushes it away. Just the same floor, not the same room. Not the same room. Not Stiles' room.

Derek places his hand on the door, takes a deep breath to steel himself and opens the door. He glances at the nearest room's door number it's meaningless as Derek realizes he suddenly can't recall Stiles' room number. Derek fumbles through his jacket pockets looking for his phone and glances at the last message he received from Stiles. He compares it to the door he's standing in front of, turns around, and walks off in the other direction. Each step takes him closer to the chatter. He can hear them, talking about the room, how the door had been busted in, DNA evidence found in the room, how they needed to get forensics there and asking where the detectives are and when they are getting here.

Every step he takes has Derek getting closer to the voices. He can see some uniformed cops now. Their faces are upset and worried. He's close enough to pick up smells. Not just the smells of the cops themselves but of the room they are all congregated in. The sweat, stink of anger, worry, frustration, and fear overwhelms the underlying smell that Derek feels he recognizes.

The whisper speaks to him again and Derek forces it back down.

Derek gets closer to the room and he is twelve feet away when he recognizes several things that cascade to cause the whispering voice in his head to change into a yell. The first is that he recognizes Sheriff Stilinski's voice speaking to the other cops. Just a coincidence.... It could be part of that case he's working on, the reason he's in Portland. Nothing to do with Stiles. The second is that he smells something he can't quite identify. It's not human, but it's also not animal, not completely. Just a Wesen, could've stayed at the hotel. He sees the room number and knows it's near Stiles' room. It's not Stiles. It's not Stiles. Then he smells it, blood. Freshly split blood.

Ever since the gas station, the voice he kept shoving down was repeating one phrase in his mind. Now it was screaming at him. The same words he heard the night of the fire. You're too late. It's all your fault.

Derek forced it back down and continues his slow trek to Stiles' room. The naïve hope that he could make it in time that he was clinging on to for the whole drive to Portland was gone. Gone, as if it had never existed. All he can feel is rage, anxiety, worry, and fear warring with each other and eating at him.

As Derek walks past the room, Stiles' room, he dials down his senses of sight, touch, and hearing and focuses everything into his sense of smell. He catches the odor of the strange Wesen he caught earlier and something wolf-like, as well as Stiles' blood.

It takes all of Derek's willpower to keep from shifting right there in the middle of the hallway surrounded by cops and Sheriff Stilinski and his suspicions just feet away. He forces himself to walk past the room.

Each step past the room, Stiles' room, was agony and felt increasingly heavier. It was all he could do to not drag his feet while his body and mind warred within him. The feelings of wanting to stay to make sure he had the scent of the bastards who hurt and took Stiles versus the fear of being seen as a suspect and being delayed in finding Stiles took hold of him. Just walking past would not be enough for him to individually hunt them down. Not with all the cops' scents interfering. Derek feared that it would prevent him from being able to find Stiles and he didn't know what he would do if it did.

The voice was screaming at him, It's all your fault. You were too late, again. It's all your fault. Stiles... Even the voice couldn't give name to the fear that caused his heart to freeze the moment he had smelled Stiles' blood from his room.

Then he caught it. A small drop of blood on the carpet hallway. It was Stiles'. Derek took a deep breath catching more of Stiles' scent. He followed it down the hallway and into the stairwell. There was more blood. Just drops here and there. The cops missed it for the moment, concentrated as they were on the room, but they would find it soon.

Derek continues to follow the smell of Stiles', his kidnappers, and blood. To his relief, some of it isn't Stiles'. Good. Injure them and leave me a trail. The path leads him out a side door of the hotel. Derek spots a bloodied hand print by the door, it's Stiles'.

Outside, the street light overhead is blinking on and off and casting strange shadows. Derek spots more blood and follows it to where it pools for a bit. Must've been when they were putting Stiles in the vehicle.

Derek closes his eyes, brings his Alpha self to the foreground, and takes a deep breath trying to catch any distinguishing scent to show him where they went. It's faint, very faint, but he thinks he can trace it.

Derek runs back to his car, lowers all the windows, and drives back to the spot he caught the scent. He takes another deep breath just to make sure and then he coasts his car down the street going slowly to make sure he doesn't lose the smell.

It will be difficult to keep track of but Derek thinks he can trace it as long as the weather holds and the winds keep blowing in the right direction. He only hopes he will make it in time to save Stiles. Hold on Stiles. I'm coming, just hold on. Please, just hold on.
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A Grimm Visit