Derek actually holds position at the top of the stairs, a low growl rumbling through his chest as he waits for an answer. He's half hoping that one or both of the alphas will charge up the stairs to attack him, but when he finally hears something besides the almost silent shifting of bare feet, it's Stiles' voice. Taunting them. God dammit, Stiles.
It's the snarl he hears immediately on its heals that has him crashing down the stairs, though, the door flung down in front of him with the assurance from the position of his voice that it won't hit Stiles. It catches the other alpha, the one not menacing Stiles, and slows him for just long enough that Derek ignores him for now, just makes straight for the other one.
His claws are still rust red with the drying blood of the other alphas as he lashes out, digging deep red channels into the younger man's flesh, catching on his spine and then tearing through and he drops with a cry, blood fountaining from the wounds. He's not dead yet, but Derek knows, from the limp way he hit the floor, that the blow severed his spinal column and it will take him precious minutes to recover enough to move, and he spins to the other alpha, making himself ignore Stiles where he's lying on the floor as he does so. He's just in time, catching a blow aimed at him with a flash of his own claws, ripping through the other man's--maybe boy's--forearm and leaving it a shredded mess before stepping in and burying his other hand deep in his belly, grabbing anything he can in a clawed grip and yanking as fangs sink deep into his own shoulder.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-08-30 01:07 am (UTC)It's the snarl he hears immediately on its heals that has him crashing down the stairs, though, the door flung down in front of him with the assurance from the position of his voice that it won't hit Stiles. It catches the other alpha, the one not menacing Stiles, and slows him for just long enough that Derek ignores him for now, just makes straight for the other one.
His claws are still rust red with the drying blood of the other alphas as he lashes out, digging deep red channels into the younger man's flesh, catching on his spine and then tearing through and he drops with a cry, blood fountaining from the wounds. He's not dead yet, but Derek knows, from the limp way he hit the floor, that the blow severed his spinal column and it will take him precious minutes to recover enough to move, and he spins to the other alpha, making himself ignore Stiles where he's lying on the floor as he does so. He's just in time, catching a blow aimed at him with a flash of his own claws, ripping through the other man's--maybe boy's--forearm and leaving it a shredded mess before stepping in and burying his other hand deep in his belly, grabbing anything he can in a clawed grip and yanking as fangs sink deep into his own shoulder.