Chapter Text
Stiles woke screaming. He did that a lot these days.
It wasn’t the screaming that was getting to him though. Honestly, after all the things he’d seen or God, the things he’d done, screaming himself awake most nights seemed a pretty tame penance. No, it wasn’t the screaming that sent him huddling in on himself in a tiny ball in the corner of his bed, knees pressed against his heaving chest and the clawing fear making his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his chest, it was the feeling that he shouldn’t have made it.
After the nogitsune, he’d resigned himself to being alone forever. Half of the time he felt like he was in a waking dream, moving through life in a fog, the other half everything was in freaking Technicolor to the point where everything hurt him. His body was constantly either hot and in pain or cold and numb. It was as if something inside of him kept trying to push itself out and when it couldn’t, it took everything that made him him and dragged it into some deep dark hole and hid there.
Considering what Void did, that scared him more than anything else. He knew he wasn’t possessed. They’d gotten rid of Void and managed to save Allison and Aiden and all the others. He still wasn’t sure how, but he had, and now it was taking everything in him just to remain himself and he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it. Every day he woke more exhausted than the previous. Every day he woke with the question, ‘is this the day I lose myself completely?’ running through his mind. Every day he worried if it was the day his dad got the call saying he’d never be coming home again.
He rocked back and forth on his tail bone, a broken laugh on his lips and tears streaming down his face.
Was today going to be his last?
Scott pulled Derek aside after the pack meeting. The teen kept running his hands through his hair and flicking his eyes off to the side, back towards the living room.
“What is it, Scott?”
Scott startled at the question and then sighed. “Have you heard from Stiles lately?”
The older man frowned, eyebrows pulled low and thought back to the last time he’d seen the hyperactive teen. “Not for a few weeks, why?”
Scott rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I thought so. Look, after everything that happened, I didn’t really expect to see him at meetings for a bit, but he hasn’t been coming to school and he won’t answer when I go by his house. I just,” he gave Derek those big brown puppy eyes and Derek just knew what was coming.
“No.” He stated emphatically. “He’s your friend, Scott, he’s not even supernatural, if he wants out, you should let him.”
“If he did, I would, but this isn’t that, Derek. Something happened to him when Void had him.” Scott ignored Derek’s snorted ‘no shit’.
“I mean it!” He snapped, glaring at the other Alpha. “I asked the Sheriff if he was sick or something and he actually asked, ‘How would I know?’ I mean, what the hell? This is your son, and I know Stiles hasn’t been on great terms with him since I turned, but everyone knows Stiles, everyone, even the ones that don’t like him and now no one will even say his name.”
“That’s because of Void, Scott, you know that. Walking around with Stiles’ face didn’t help him any. If he needs to take a few days to come to grips with that, it’s none of our business.”
“You’re wrong.” Scott said, voice low and hard. “You don’t see what it’s doing to the pack, not having him here. God, Derek, you had to Alpha Boyd to get him to not kick the shit out of Isaac tonight. Boyd and Isaac. In what universe does that even happen? Things are wrong with us because Stiles isn’t here and I need you to fix it.”
“What do you want me to do Scott? Drag his ass to meetings when you can’t even get him out of his house? What makes you think I’ll have better luck than his best friend?”
Scott looked at him like a kicked puppy long enough for Derek to start to feel bad about snapping at the teen. Then Scott’s face went hard and anger swirled in his brown eyes.
“If you really can’t figure out why Stiles would listen to you, you don’t deserve him.” He muttered the last part and although Derek heard him, he didn’t understand what Scott meant.
“Fine, never mind, I’ll ask Lydia or Malia to do it.”
Derek’s stomach dropped at the idea of sending either of the two girls to Stiles’ house and before he knew it he’d already grabbed his keys and jacket. He really didn't want to think about what that meant.
The Stilinski house was dark when Derek arrived. The cruiser was gone, but the jeep was in the drive and Derek could hear the sound of an erratic heartbeat from the second floor. He tilted his head, frown furrowing his brow. That wasn’t Stiles’ normal heartbeat. Sure, the teen’s heart always ran fast, like a jack rabbit, but this wasn’t just fast, but skipping dangerously. He didn’t bother with the door, he never did, he just launched himself up to the roof and pushed open Stiles’ window.
The room was black. Not just dark without the lights on, but black, as if the afternoon sun couldn’t get through the open window. Derek took half-a-step towards where he knew the bed was and froze. He took a deep breath and let the scent rush through him.
Fuck his life.
There was the unmistakable smell of teenage human, but it was more of an underlying scent, not the predominant one in the room. Earth, dark and wet and teeming with life was there, followed by a cloyingly sweet smell, maybe jasmine or gardenias, but the most prevalent was the smell of ozone, sharp and tangy on the tongue. It hit him low and wicked, right in the gut and seemed to take hold of him on a visceral level.
Mate, his wolf howled at him, rushing forward and trying to claw its way out of Derek with a ferocity he’d never experienced before, not even when he’d realized what Kate had done to his family. It knocked him on his ass right there in the middle of Stiles’ bedroom. His eyes bled Alpha red, his fangs dropped and a low rumbling growl worked its way out of Derek’s mouth without him realizing it.
Then the shadows moved and he felt his breath explode from his lungs.
The darkness parted, allowing Stiles to come towards him. The teen looked pale, so very pale, with dark bruised eyes and the pupils were blown so wide in the blackness that they seemed to take up his entire face; their normal whiskey honey color shadowed to an almost inky black. Derek could taste the salty wetness from tears, could see their stains on his cheeks. His lips cracked and oozed dark blood when they moved, although no sound could be heard.
He was only wearing a pair of low-slung black sweatpants and Derek realized belatedly that for as long as he’d known the teen, he’d never seen him without a shirt on. It wasn’t what Derek had expected. Stiles was toned muscle under those baggy shirts he always wore. He didn’t know why it surprised him. The teen was on the lacrosse team after all. He ran cross-country and fought with werewolves and wasn’t dead yet. Sure, he’d never be as big as Derek or Boyd, he just wasn’t built that way, but he was by no means the 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone he’d always joked he was.
Derek zeroed in on his chest- right above his heart. The area was pulsing with a dull orange glow.
“Stiles?” he asked, softly, not wanting to startle the teen.
The smell of ozone got stronger, but Stiles didn’t respond directly. The glow spread out over the lean chest, lines of pale orange, barely noticeable, but gaining in strength, slipped over his shoulders, up his throat and down his arms to his fingers.
Fingers that glowed brightly like they were lit by a flashlight.
He didn’t stand. He wanted to; he wanted to go to Stiles and grab him by the shoulders and shake him (or pull him closer to get more of that smell). He snarled at his wolf; those thoughts were not helpful right now. Instead, he stayed on the ground, hands loose by his sides as the teen stalked closer.
And it was a stalk. Stiles, who he’d never associated with overt sexuality and to whom Derek would never admit of sometimes being terrified of, suddenly had apex predator written all over him. The black eyes weren’t helping any either. What was really freaking Derek out though was his wolf’s reaction to the teen.
The wolf rolled over and showed his stomach, his neck arching in submission and it was taking everything in Derek not to do the same as the boy crouched down in front of him, the scent of ozone almost overwhelming as he reached for Derek’s face.
It took everything in him to allow Stiles’ touch and yet that very touch shook him to his core. It was feather light, reverent even, as it ghosted over his cheek and down his throat to his chest. The fingers stilled over his heart, the palm flattening until Derek was certain the other could feel the double tap his heart was making.
“Der…” Stiles’ breathed out softly, lovingly.
Derek’s eyes snapped to Stiles’. They were glowing brightly, the same orange as his fingers, which were red hot and yet, not burning, against Derek’s chest.
“Stiles?” he asked, voice wavering slightly against his will.
“Der...” The orange in his eyes slid back along with the shadows in the room and for the first time since he’d appeared, Stiles looked like what he remembered. “Derek, help, please. God, I’m so tired of being afraid of myself.”
Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed into Derek’s arms. He caught the teen purely out of reflex. Cradling him close against his chest, Derek sat for several minutes trying to calm his own racing heart. The ozone was gone, leaving only a faint buzz under his skin like static electricity. He pulled Stiles in close, sliding an arm under his knees and one along his back to be able to lift him and carry him back to the bed.
It was obvious to Derek that the teen hadn’t been sleeping, the bruised eyes and sallow skin showed that clearly, but it was the heartbroken and beaten down terror in his voice that really broke Derek. His wolf absolutely hated the boy’s fear. He wanted Derek to kill whatever was causing it, to rip it’s throat out with his fangs and yet somehow Derek was certain that there wasn’t an ‘enemy’ to fight this time. It wasn’t like with Void. Stiles had been in control the entire time. He’d known Derek, knew he’d never hurt him without a hell of a reason (or at all his wolf huffed angrily), and came to him for help.
Derek gently laid him in the bed, slipped the covers back over him and then, in some weird sort of fit, toed his shoes off and tossed his jacket on the chair by the window, then crawled in beside the teen, taking the open space by the wall. Stiles rolled over and attached himself to Derek like he was a lifeline, filling something inside the wolf he hadn’t realized had always been empty with a glowing warmth. He sighed as he closed his eyes against the late afternoon sunlight, his pulse picking up when the shadows rushed back across the room, plunging it into darkness. The scent of ozone chasing it.
Behind his eyelids he saw a pulsing orange flame. For the first time since the fire, it didn’t scare him. He fell asleep not long after.
For the first time in weeks, Stiles woke without screaming. It was a slow wakefulness, as if his body and mind and heart had all finally decided to agree on something for once and that meant he could actually rest. He stretched long limbs and felt the gentle movement of blood moving through his veins. His eyes hurt, so he kept them closed.
He was cocooned in a bubble of warmth, the heat seeming to radiate from everywhere and no where and as he lay there, he felt his body respond to it; his limbs getting heavy, his head lolling to the side as he curled closer to the heat and the smell like warm gooey chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. He burrowed closer to the scent, dragging in a deep lungful of cookies and the faint scent of wood-smoke and leather. God, he loved those smells, they reminded him of camping when he was a kid before his mom had gotten sick, like the smell of s’mores over the campfire.
A low rumble soaked into the skin of his chest, more felt than heard, and pushed him closer towards sleep, a feeling of security and rightness settling into his soul. He had the faintest memory of Derek coming into his room, but dismissed it as wishful thinking, he'd been in love with the older man for months, if not since the beginning, so hearing his voice in his dreams wasn't a new occurrence.
“Go back to sleep,” his memory-Derek whispered softly against his ear.
“’kay,” he whispered back, voice faint in sleep, “love you, Der.”
Derek froze, his breath catching behind his teeth. He’d known Stiles wasn’t fully awake when he’d started moving against him. His heart had been sleep-steady and his eyes closed. He’d never really come all the way out of it so Derek hadn’t bothered alerting the other to his presence. He figured Stiles would flail himself off the bed if he’d known he’d been curled up for the last few hours in Derek’s arms. He hadn’t expected him to say that he loved him.
Derek swallowed down the reflexive need to get up and run. Stiles’ heartbeat had never blipped, never wavered and Derek knew that even in sleep, the wolf could hear a lie, which meant Stiles had been telling the truth. Stiles loved him and he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do with that knowledge.
Well, his wolf knew what he wanted Derek to do with it, but Derek was less certain. First, there was the whole, Stiles was underage thing. He was seventeen and wouldn’t be turning eighteen for another seven or eight months if he remembered correctly and even if he was of age, Derek wasn’t sure if he could get passed the whole innocent teenager part.
His wolf snorted at that and even Derek had to admit, it was a pretty weak excuse. Stiles would be the first to roll his eyes and say it’d been a hell of a long time since he’d been considered innocent, if ever. Sure, he was six years older, but Derek had enough self-awareness to realize in the grand scheme of things, that didn’t amount to much, and really, considering he’d been on the run for most of those years, he wasn’t that far away from his pack, maturity-wise.
The fact that Stiles was male didn’t even enter the equation. Born wolves didn’t have the same hang-ups as humans did and after the disasters that were his experiences with women, being male might be the change he needed, but that wasn’t the point. The point was this was Stiles. The kid had been driving him to distraction since he’d first met him in the woods with Scott over a year ago.
Distraction, not crazy, though he did that too, but distraction. Ah hell, even in his own mind he couldn't say he hated the guy. He was weary of him in the beginning, sure, terrified of his lack of self-preservation and willingness to always put himself in the middle of a battle, and he could be an annoying little shit when he wanted to, but Stiles was also the only one he could rely on 100% of the time, no matter if they were fighting or not.
He was selfless and brave and made Derek want to laugh when he didn’t think he knew how to anymore. He also made Derek want to do things that he knew were wrong, like throw him up against walls and pin him there until the teen submitted, but Stiles never did. He never submitted because somehow he knew he didn’t need to.
How the hell had the human known he didn’t need to?
Derek thought back to the scent of ozone, the glowing eyes and fingers, the shadows and it hit him like a two-by-four to the back of the head. Holy shit, Stiles had magic! That’s the only thing that made sense. The reason he’d been able to fight Void, to save Allison, Aiden and the others, the glowy fingers and the scent of ozone…magic. His mate was magic and it was killing him.
His wolf growled low at the thought, but Derek knew he was right. The certainty lodged itself behind his ribs and tugged so strong his eyes snapped open at the feeling.
A mate bond.
He gasped as he stared right into Stiles’ glowing orange eyes. “Stiles?”
“Derek,” Stiles whispered, voice faint with worry. “What’s happening to me?”
Derek swallowed and pulled the teen in closer. “You’re magic, Sti,” he whispered, the nickname slipping out easily.
“Magic?”
“Yeah. It’s not him, Stiles. I swear.”
Stiles took a shuddering breath, his nose planted firmly against Derek’s neck. “Why do you smell so good?”
Derek gave a weak chuckle. God, his life. “It’s because we’re mates, Sti. I felt it when I came over. You smelled so good, different, but still the same. I don’t know why, but…”
“Mates? Oh shit, Der, I…what are we supposed to do, I mean, you hate me, dude!?”
Stiles tried to squirm away but Derek held him tighter. “I don’t hate you, Stiles. You annoy the shit out of me sometimes, but I never hated you.”
“Wait, what?” Stiles stilled in his arms, his fingers clenching and unclenching sporadically against Derek’s chest. His breath came in shallow little pants against Derek’s throat and he felt the beginning of a panic attack. He didn’t see the shadows in the room writhing like they were getting ready to attack, but over Stiles’ shoulder Derek did.
“Breathe, Stiles. I know this is a lot, but just breathe. Follow me, in, two three four, out, two three four. That’s it, baby, just breathe with me, come on Sti.” He pressed Stiles’ head closer with one hand, the other trapping Stiles’ hands against his chest, right over his heart so he could follow the beat and let it calm him. He could actually feel the edge of panic himself, like an echo in his mind and he briefly wondered how the hell Stiles had managed them by himself for all these years.
“Baby?” Stiles laughed softly a few minutes later once he’d calmed down.
Derek’s ears burned red, but he just shrugged and brushed back sweat damp hair from Stiles’ eyes. “I’m not going to fight the bond, Stiles. Mates are sacred. You aren’t guaranteed one, and while I won’t force you if you don’t want it, I’m also not going to fight my wolf. He says you’re it for me and I can’t honestly find it in myself to disagree.”
Stiles glanced up at him sharply, eyes blown wide and glowing faintly. Derek brushed his lips across Stiles’ in a feather-soft, barely-there brush that had the teen’s stomach swooping. “You make me laugh, Stiles. You keep me grounded and sane and not killing the pack when they’re being dumbass teenagers.”
That made Stiles laugh. “You’re not much better sometimes, you know, Sourwolf.”
Derek gave a little snarl at the name, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation when Stiles just laughed in his face. He hugged him closer, pressing a leg between the boy’s and wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist, manhandling the teen into a more comfortable position where he was half draped over Derek, head pillowed on his chest.
“We need to talk about the magic, Stiles.”
Stiles groaned and rubbed his face against Derek’s Henley like a cat. “Do we have to? I’m a big fan of ignoring the problem, you know.”
Derek rolled them until Stiles could see the shadows moving at the edge of the bed. They filled the room with absolute blackness and yet, a part of Derek knew they would never hurt him. They were a part of Stiles, a part of his magic’s defense system he thought.
“Holy shit! What the hell, Derek?” Stiles stage-whispered.
Derek rolled them back so he was laying flat on his back and Stiles was laying on him, even though the teen kept trying to look over his shoulder.
“They’re yours. I think anyways. I think they’re protecting you.”
“From what? I mean, if they were going to attack someone, wouldn’t they attack you, Creeper wolf?”
Derek growled and flicked the center of his forehead with his finger. “No, jackass, I'm not a threat to you. When I came in they had completely blacked out your room. I couldn’t see or hear you at all.”
“Then how?” Derek could hear the confusion in his voice.
“You came out of the shadows like some Old God, Sti. Hell, you were glowing. They didn’t need to attack me, I’m certain if I’d done anything wrong you would have ripped me apart yourself.”
“Wow. I am such a bad ass, awesome!” Derek grabbed his wrist before the teen could fist bump the air and rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well, you might have magic now, but you know until you’re trained that it’s going to be unstable.”
Stiles sobered quickly. “I know, Der. I’m always the one getting us in fucking trouble, believe me, I know whatever this is, it's dangerous.”
Derek didn't like the defeatist attitude in the least. “Stop. Stiles, I mean it. I’m not saying that, I’m just saying we need more information. Just like when the betas turned and Lydia came into her powers, you having magic doesn’t change anything, but we need to figure out how to train you.” He brushed a hand down Stiles head and back, running warm fingers down his spine until they came to rest on the swell of his ass.
“I’d rather not have my boyfriend blown up if possible,” he whispered teasingly.
“Boy…Derek are you sure?” Stiles pushed himself up and peered down into Derek’s face. For the first time in a long time, it was completely open. The vulnerability there made Stiles’ heart clench. He knew how much it took for Derek to open up even a little bit; this was huge.
Derek took a shuddering breath as he looked up into Stiles eyes. They were still glowing slightly. He nodded and watched as Stiles’ face went bright with happiness. He leaned down and gave Derek a tentative kiss.
Derek tilted his head to the right and flicked his tongue over Stiles’ chapped lips, smirking when the teen moaned and opened for him. Derek pulled Stiles by his hips until he was straddling him, gravity pressing them flush together. He ran his fingers up into Stiles’ hair, tugging lightly and making the boy groan. Tongues tangled, traced teeth and swallowed each other’s breaths. Derek felt his wolf’s joy at having his mate close, felt Stiles slide into his mind easily and followed the bond back to do the same. He didn’t remember his parent’s talking about using the bond like this, but maybe it just proved the point that Derek and Stiles knew one another at an instinctual level.
He'd trusted Stiles over his own blood, over his pack, long before he’d had a reason too. When he’d first seen the teen in the woods, all gangly limbs and awkward reactions, he’d felt a pull and ignored it. When they’d been in the police cruiser and Stiles was telling Derek he wasn’t afraid of him, Derek had known he was lying, but it hadn’t made him smug or afraid, he’d been fascinated by the teen. By this kid who had just learned about werewolves and yet still looked Derek in the eyes and declared he wasn’t going anywhere. He was here to stay and Derek would just have to deal with it.
Right now, with that same gangly teen trying to crawl inside him through their mouths, he was sort of glad he’d stayed around long enough to get arrested. The kiss was over way to soon for Stiles, but Derek knew he had to stop. This was new, Stiles was young, and Derek didn’t want to screw it up before they even figured out if it would work out. When Stiles pulled back, Derek was shocked to see his eyes had settled into a warm amber. The orange fire was gone.
“Stiles, your eyes…”
Stiles settled more of his weight against Derek, knowing the wolf could take it, and sighed as the pulsing he’d felt for weeks within him finally smoothed over and settled. Derek could feel the shift in Stiles’ magic through the bond.
“You found your anchor.” He realized.
Stiles smiled softly and gave him one last lingering kiss. “I always had it,” he murmured against Derek’s lips. “I just think he had to accept me back.”
Derek jerked hard at the realization that he was Stiles’ anchor, then he smiled and pulled the younger man back on top of him. “So, we’re each other’s anchor. That’s kind of cliché, don’t you think.”
Stiles snorted a laugh and closed his eyes. “No one ever said we were original, Der.”
“Scott’s going to give us such shit about this. He was worried about you. Everyone was.”
Stiles was quiet for so long Derek wondered if he’d fallen asleep before he spoke.
“I was afraid,” he confided. “What if it was Void, or something like him, again? I couldn’t take the chance of hurting any of you.”
Derek clutched him a little harder. “You never would have.”
“But I did. I almost killed all of you. I did kill all those innocents and it was taking everything in me to keep him out of my head and I still lost.”
“Stiles, stop it. What happened was not your fault. Void was evil and you fought him off for months. Months. None of us would have been able to do that.”
“I just…”
“No. Stiles, fuck, look at me, Little Red.” Derek commanded, eyes red and voice layered with Alpha and concern. Stiles turned and looked at his Alpha fully.
“Void was not your fault. You stopped him. You always stop them. You're the one who figures things out for us, who comes up with the plans and who is always right there in the thick of things even when it’s not safe. Hell, Stiles, you’re more of an Alpha than Scott and I are. You care for the pack, for the pups and Scott…for me. You’ve always been there doing everything you could for us. You’ve been our Emissary and Pack Mom since the beginning and having magic is only going to make things easier.”
Stiles blinked twice before his lips twitched up in wry amusement. “Pack Mom?”
Derek gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “It’s what Isaac calls you. I didn’t understand it at first until he explained how you always seemed to know when he’d had a nightmare and made him brownies and helped him with his homework. Then Erica said you’d helped her pick out Boyd’s birthday present and the other’s started chiming in and I realized you had taken the role so effortlessly I hadn’t even realized it. I thought it was because of Scott, but it wasn’t, was it?”
Stiles flushed and shook his head. “No. I, I wanted to help you. I know having a bunch of teenagers around all the time can cause you to go slightly homicidal, and having them in your den can’t be easy, so I was trying to help where I could. Then I realized I actually liked the assholes and wanted to make sure they were taken care of.”
Derek laughed out loud and Stiles thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“Such a softy.”
“Shut up. They’re your pups, you know.”
Derek surged up and kissed the teen hard. 'Ours,' his kiss corrected, and Stiles couldn’t think of a more perfect word.
“Isaac, go wash your hands before dinner.” Stiles shooed the blonde beta out of the kitchen with a gentle shove.
“But Moooom!” he whined, dragging the word out like a petulant five-year-old. Isaac froze at the kitchen entrance when he realized what he’d said. In the living room the other betas did the same. Jackson, who’d been purposely ignoring Stiles the entire time he’d been back, slid forward half-a-step in silent support of his packmate, although he’d deny it to his dying day.
The sound of shuffling papers broke the tension as Derek called out from where he was going through research on the latest big bad. He was sitting at the kitchen counter behind the pair.
“Leave your mom alone Isaac and go wash up. The rest of you get the table cleared for dinner. Little Red, come look at this, I think I see a pattern.”
Stiles rolled his eyes and walked over to Derek. The Alpha pushed back slightly from the counter and pulled the teen onto his lap.
“Where?” Stiles asked, running his hand through Derek’s hair before focusing on the papers.
“Here,” he said, "if we line up the times of the attacks with…”
Isaac backed up away from the kitchen until he literally ran into Jackson. He glanced over at the other beta, eyes blown wide, and asked, “What just happened?”
Lydia snorted delicately from her place on the couch beside Allison and Scott. “It looks like our fearless leader just got his head out of his ass and realized what he had right in front of him.”
The others looked around with mixtures of happiness, confusion and mild disgust at the idea of mom and dad finally getting together.
From his place beside Allison, Scott stared out the large window. Eventually she leaned over and asked softly, “Why do you look so smug?”