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Scott, you have to come. You have to come now. We're near the Nemeton and Stiles is bleeding really badly and I don't know what they did to him. ...No, that's not fast enough! ...We went without you because I was sure we weren't going to die, I was so sure, Scott, I screamed, I listened and I didn't hear anything, but maybe I was wrong, because Stiles is going to die, he's going to die if you don't get here right now, Scott. We can't get to the car and he's bleeding a lot, and... you need to come. You need to give him the Bite. It's the only way he has a chance.
It's been a handful of full moons, and Derek has spent most of his time roaming the Preserve, living as a wolf. At first, it had simply been taking time to think, space to feel. He doesn't have any reason to be anywhere else. No pack, no family, not with Cora and Isaac gone and his final break with Peter. Beacon Hills has an Alpha, a good one, and it isn't him.
After two bright hunting moons, he starts finding it harder to turn back, easier to be a lone wolf than an omega werewolf.
When he has a human chest, it feels hollow, heavy with the weight of everything he's lost, not just one pack, now, but two. Of every time he's reached out to people and found nothing but bitterness there.
He doesn't miss Braeden. If he's honest with himself, the appeal of her was always the honesty of her mercenary nature. With her, he knew from the very beginning that he was being used. That his companionship was being weighed and measured, and that he was getting something in return. Pleasure. Lessons in survival. A tidbit of intelligence, here or there.
He misses his pack.
Parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins. Erica. Boyd. Isaac. Dead because of his choices, or gone, not able to bear the weight of the dead in their own chests.
Allison. Aiden. From enemies to not-quite-pack to laying down their lives for friends.
Scott. Stiles. Lydia. The heart of the new pack, still so young, but holding the territory and caring for each other better than he ever had, as the Beacon Hills Alpha.
He'd watched over them, made sure they were starting well, but the summer had been quiet, and as the weeks wore on he spent less time near the town, the pack, and more time running as fast as four legs could carry him, hunting as only his wolf knew how, and forgetting that there had ever been anything else.
It's early fall before his long, lost ramble is interrupted, by a fox wandering into the heart of the old Hale territory.
The smells and sounds of small mammals around the tunnel entrance where he's been sleeping usually don't merit his notice, unless he's hungry. Rabbits, squirrels, other rodents, raccoons, cats of various sizes, and the occasional something larger on their way past farther out, have all just become background noise to his senses.
But as soon as this fox's scent comes to Derek's nose, his whole self comes to attention. There's something familiar about it, something... out-of-place.
Derek stands up on all fours, stretches, and pokes his head out of his hiding place.
It's a year-old red fox, ears perked and playfully pouncing at the mice which are just out of sight in the grass. He - it's a dog-fox by scent, the musk of him pricking at the human parts of Derek's brain, for some reason - he doesn't seem to mind that the mice continue to escape him, just pounces and looks around and sniffs a bit and pounces again, playing. Derek makes an amused chuff and the fox's eyes go immediately to him.
The fox watches him for a moment, and then barks four times in quick succession, happily, a fox family greeting.
There's no sign of other foxes nearby, no scent of a mate or kits, and the little fox is definitely greeting him.
Derek tilts his head briefly at the creature, then barks once in reply, deep and gruff but not loud.
The fox bounces gleefully, bounding over to Derek and thrusting his nose into the deep, black, wolfy fur of his neck and shoulders.
It's a new feeling, but he remembers seeing it between his mother and Laura, and the human part of him is heavy again with the memories, with the fact that he'll never have this with them, but in the wolf, the here and now and all his senses, Derek is amazed, and happy.
He doesn't know how or why, but the fox is family, and Derek prods him with his huge wolfy nose in return, learning him.
There's a faint scent of other-wolf - no, other werewolf. Scott. Lydia. Stiles.
Stiles.
This is Stiles.
Werefox, he realizes. Which makes sense, given his personality, and after the Nogitsune, but - a full shift?
That shouldn't be possible in a bitten shifter.
Suddenly Derek needs his voice, needs his words, so he steps back, trying to calm himself, trying to reach for humanity. But the wolf form has been his for months now, and someone bit Stiles, he can't be calm, and even his anger won't come to his call properly because he doesn't know who it was, it could've been Scott, Stiles could've asked for the bite.
The fox whines a little at Derek's retreat, at the distress that must be coming off him in waves, and Derek might need answers but the wolfier part of him needs to comfort this fox, this new little family he suddenly finds himself part of. He whines back gently, returning to the fox's side, growling a little, low and concerned and inquisitive.
The fox - Stiles - sighs, trots into the entrance of the tunnel, sniffs around a little, then flops down and curls up right on the spot where Derek's been sleeping.
Derek watches him, thinking.
Stiles recognizes Derek, on some level, at least. But he's not shifting, which he would, if he could. Derek has never known Stiles to choose not talking when talking was an option. So he's stuck, like Malia had been.
But then why isn't he with his pack? With Scott? Scott, who changed Malia with only a howl?
There's something else wrong.
But maybe, like with Derek, that something else isn't as easy to fix as just going back to his pack and letting them help.
Night's settling in soon, anyway, so Derek curls up around his little fox companion, and settles himself for sleep.
Nighttime for Stiles is full of twitching and the smells of terror, distress and sadness.
Derek makes sure he's pressed against the wolf's warm bulk, noses at him, and when that doesn't work, gently bites his scruff.
Stiles's scent takes a turn for the simpler, the more animal, reminding Derek of the comfort of the den and the thrill of both chasing and being chased.
In the morning light, it seems clearer to Derek that he doesn't know what to do about this, that without more information he has to assume that Stiles needs his Alpha, and Scott probably needs to know what's happened to Stiles.
They spend the morning hunting and playing, because they need to eat, and unless things have gone completely haywire, Scott will be in school, and if things are that bad, it's probably better for Stiles to stay away - without his clever mouth and clever hands, he's missing his greatest assets in a crisis. But early in the afternoon, Derek starts toward town, and Stiles follows, eyes bright and curious and steps bouncing.
The clinic seems to be the right place, Scott's scent heavy on the building, so Derek walks up to the back door and gives a low, resonating howl. Scott opens the door, eyes wide, and he stares for a moment before he seems to recognize the wolf. "...Derek?" he says, standing aside. "You brought a fox?"
Scott looks like he hasn't slept in about a week, desperation and frustration weighing down his scent. Stiles seems to be able to pick it up, because he whines and leans closer to Derek. But there's no clear sign of recognition from either of them.
Derek huffs, picks Stiles up by the scruff, and carries him inside. Apparently this isn't going to be simple.
"This really isn't a good day," Scott says, but he leads them to the exam area anyway. Malia and Lydia are here too, both with the same sleepless weight to their postures, but Malia looks and smells sad, uncomfortable and defiantly angry, and Lydia appears to have a permanent glare fixed on Scott wherever he moves in the room. Scott seems resigned to ignoring them. He looks at Derek, who sets Stiles down on the floor and nudges him towards Scott.
"Hey there," says Scott. "You don't look hurt. Derek, why did you bring me a fox?" He lifts Stiles onto the exam table, though, and runs gentle, competent hands over his fur, which has Stiles nuzzling contentedly into his hands.
So Stiles didn't run away from his Alpha on purpose.
Scott sighs. "Are you just going to stand there being taciturn and wolfy, or are you going to turn back and give me some answers?" he asks Derek. "Because I have enough to deal with right now with my own pack, okay?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to turn back," Malia says flatly. "Maybe it's better down there today."
Just for the sake of argument, Derek gives himself a shake, and tries again to return to two legs. No go.
"Well then, what am I supposed to do?" Scott asks, voice breaking. "Because Kira's gone, Deaton's missing, Stiles is... he's dead, Derek. Stiles is dead."
Everything suddenly makes a lot more sense.
"Stiles. Is. Not. Dead," Lydia bites at him. "We need to find him."
Scott looks more tired, and Derek's not even sure how that's possible. Derek moves to nose at Scott's legs. He wants to curse at Scott's untrained nose, the young, bitten alpha and his inability to smell his best friend when he's literally in his arms. But Derek hadn't recognized the fox right away either, and Scott doesn't need more hostility directed at him right now.
"Lydia..." Scott sighs again, absently petting the fox in his arms. "The Dread Doctors got to him, you told me that. You saw what happened when I bit him. That black stuff? He was rejecting it. And he wasn't going to make it without the bite. You said so. Okay? So what do you want me to believe? All the bodies have been disappearing. All the Dread Doctors' experiments."
"He's not dead," Lydia said between her teeth. "I would know. And the person who's been taking the bodies wasn't there! Stiles and I had it figured out."
"Then tell me, so we can go see for ourselves."
The little bit of rumble in his voice prompts Stiles to hop down from the table and move closer to Derek. Derek noses him calmly, then lies down on the floor, pulling the small fox into the curl of his body. Stiles quiets again.
"I can't. I won't. Scott, the bodies have nothing to do with this. He's out there, and he needs to be found, and trust the expert on looking for bodies, that's not what we need to be doing right now."
"So if he's out there," says Scott, "how are we supposed to find him? I couldn't catch his scent."
Derek does give a little rumble at that. Bitten wolves.
Lydia looks stymied for a moment, and then thoughtful as her gaze falls on the two creatures curled in the corner. "Actually," she says, "I think he might have come to us."
Scott looks lost for a moment, and then his eyes widen. "You mean the fox? You think Stiles took the bite and went werefox?" His eyes linger on the puff of red-orange fur tucked into Derek's black bulk. His nostrils flare. "He does smell... like pack. I didn't think bitten weres could make a full shift, though."
"Scott," Lydia says, softly now, "Stiles has died once before, remember? I know what it sounds like when his corpse is on the ground. The body he's got now? It was born out of the mouth of a Nogitsune. I don't think he was ever... just human, not after that."
A born fox. Stiles is a born fox. Of course. Derek snuffles at him in wonder. But the little fox doesn't seem to be following the conversation.
Malia's eyes are on them, glaring.
"Huh," says Scott. "So how do we get him back?"
"Let Stiles be a fox if he wants to be a fox," Malia grumbles pointedly.
"So it is him?" Scott asks her. "You know for sure?"
"Yeah," Malia says, her head shaking in a dismissive little flourish. "I'm a born shifter and spent years in full coyote form before you forced me back to this. I know what a full shift smells like next to human. And that fox is Stiles."
Scott's whole face lights up at the assurance Stiles is alive. "Why didn't you say?"
"He's still Stiles. What does it matter what shape he's in?"
Scott nods as if that makes sense to him. And maybe it does, knowing how much he loves to spend time around animals, respects their personalities nearly as much as he does those of his pack. But then he looks between the two of them. "So why didn't you go and say hi?"
Malia wrinkles her nose grumpily. "Stiles explained how humans don't always mate for life," she says. "He said sometimes things change too much. I didn't really get it, but... he's a fox now." Malia looks at the cuff of her shirt where she's worrying it in her hand. "Foxes choose differently than humans. More like coyotes. If he chose me, he'd be over here already. But he'd rather smell like my cousin the wolf right now."
Derek whines quietly. That isn't.... He'd found Stiles, Stiles had needed pack, and right now he doesn't seem to know who he is. If he did... he would be with Malia.
On the other hand... Stiles is all instinct right now. Derek isn't the only pack available. Scott is here, Stiles's Alpha. Lydia, someone he's always been drawn to and now very much trusts. Malia, the closest thing he's ever had to a mate.
And yet Stiles is curled against Derek. Sleeping, now. Trusting Derek.
His eyes go to Malia, still watching them.
All Malia says is, "You'd better take care of him."
Derek is, for the moment, glad not to have a human mouth, glad not to have any expectation to figure out a reply to that.
Scott's studying him next. "Derek," he says, "are you stuck? The way Malia was when we found her?"
Derek gives an embarrassed huff, but then nods.
"Do you want me to turn you back?"
Derek considers, then he nudges Stiles with his nose, waking the fox before uncurling from around him. He gives Stiles one last nuzzle before nodding to Scott.
The growl vibrates through every cell of his being, feeling as if it's turning him inside out.
No one seems to care that there's suddenly a filthy, naked human male in their midst. In fact, the only one who's staring is Stiles, and that's at Derek's face. The fox cocks his head, expression... almost recognition.
"Thanks for finding Stiles," Scott says, handing him a blanket. "Do you think getting him back will work the same way?"
Derek clears his throat before even attempting to speak. "I'm not sure," he answers. "He doesn't seem to remember being human. Who are the Dread Doctors, and what did they do to him?"
Malia makes an aggravated noise.
"There's so much we still don't know about them," Scott says. "They experiment on genetic chimeras to create hybrid supernatural creatures, we know that much. Probably using mercury. We haven't had any bodies to examine. They've all been taken. As far as I know, Stiles isn't a natural chimera and hasn't had any transplants, but I'm guessing after the whole 'nogitsune rebirth' thing, all bets about the makeup of his body are off?"
"Nogitsunes are not my area of expertise," Derek says dryly. "What I do know is that most wolves who can make a full shift train for years to be able to control it, always with their Alpha close by to supervise. Spontaneous transformation without training is usually in response to trauma, adrenaline, a sort of extreme fight-or-flight response. So getting people out of it... would probably depend on the trauma."
"You never trained with an Alpha," Scott guesses.
"I was shot, I bled out, I shifted. Then I came back. I figured I had a handle on it." Derek's mouth quirks a little at the corners, and he glances down at his filthy, blanketed nakedness. "I guess not so much." But then he looks at Stiles. "He was rejecting your bite?"
"It was terrible." Scott shudders. "I knew what it looked like on Gerard, and I just... I panicked. He'd lost so much blood, and he wasn't going to survive as a human. I lost it at Lydia. When we looked back, he was gone."
"Jackson's body fought the wolf the same way," Derek tells him, petting Stiles absently until the fox settles again. "The wolf wasn't his nature, then. Something else was. The bite still had an effect."
"So is this...." Scott gestures to Stiles. "...Because of the Nogitsune? Or is it just who he is?"
Derek thinks for a moment about the Stiles he knows, about the variations on the bite he's seen. "He isn't completely unlike a wolf," he decides. "Not like Kate. She could have only become something solitary and opportunistic. She could never have become a social hunter. But Stiles did have affinity towards a fox, which I think was why the Nogitsune picked him instead of Allison. Before, if he'd been bitten, I think he would have become a wolf. But if the fox wasn't very much in tune with his nature, I don't think he would have survived the bite."
"I want him back," Scott says, contemplating Stiles. "But I don't want to rush in without thinking. The last piece of advice he gave me was to wait and think, and I don't want to lose any chance of hearing him talk again because I didn't listen to him before." He lets his face sink into his hands. "I don't know if he doesn't remember who he is because of something the Dread Doctors did to him, or if he just doesn't want to remember how things were between us."
"You were fighting?" Derek asks.
"One of my new betas, Theo... Stiles doesn't trust him at all. He's always been suspicious, but this... it wasn't reasonable. And there's something else. A secret he's been keeping. He's been unhappy."
"Do you trust Theo more than you trust Stiles?"
"No, of course not!"
"Good. Stiles has been your pack second since before you were an Alpha. As long as you remember that, you'll work things out."
Scott sighs. "Stiles..." he says, holding out a hand towards the fox. "Stiles, you're my best friend, okay? I will always listen to you. Just come back to me."
The fox looks at Scott with wide eyes, and finally yips three times in recognition. Scott pets him and watches him closely.
"Will you come back to me? Stiles?" Scott lets his red eyes show.
Stiles whines, and Scott's brows go worried, but then Stiles presses into his hands, suddenly so very clearly frustrated that he can't talk.
"Okay," Scott says. "We're going to get you back."
The growl nearly rattle the windows. The fox writhes and shifts, eyes locked on Scott's. And then it's Stiles, boyish human figure naked in front of them. He blinks, getting his bearings, and then grins. "Hey, guys. What's happening?"
"I thought I'd lost you," Scott says, pulling him into a tight hug right there kneeling on the floor, nakedness notwithstanding. "I should've listened. I should've paid more attention."
"Hey, buddy," Stiles says more gently. "I'm okay. We're okay. Right?"
"Yeah," says Scott. "Yeah. We're okay."
If Derek is going to learn to control the full shift, he's going to need an Alpha, and luckily, there's a great one, right here in Beacon Hills.
Young, and a little bit in over his head, but... all the more reason to join his pack. Add to both their strengths.
He and Stiles start lessons together, Derek sharing what he knows about the transformation, Scott always there to bring them back if they get lost. Stiles's beta form is unexpectedly adorable, all tiny fangs and golden eyes and endearingly oversized ears.
They don't really mean to fall back into the habit of cuddling, like they had when they met as two furry animals in the woods, but when the wolf and the fox are in tune, they're drawn to each other.
Malia comes the second day, since she's still working on control, as well. Derek's getting dressed and packing up to go when he hears the beginning of a conversation he knows he shouldn't be listening to. But he needs to know.
"Stiles?" Malia says. "We're not lasting, are we?"
"What?" Stiles asks, startled. "I don't, uh, I don't know if we're forever, but I thought we were doing okay. We're doing okay, right? If there's something wrong, I could do better?"
"Humans are so weird," Malia says.
"What? Hey, what?"
"Humans like each other for all kinds of reasons, reasons that change. But they hang onto each other anyway. It's so much simpler living by your nose. You're learning that. Stiles, you have to know that your fox doesn't want me."
Stiles heaves a long sigh. "Maybe not," he says. "But, Malia, I've been human most of my life, and I don't like giving up."
"I said I understood, but... I don't like it. The human way of doing things. I don't like being your mate but still feeling threatened because other people are attractive to you. I like you, but I won't fight for you. If you want to be next to me, you will be, right?"
Stiles groans. "I was supposed to be teaching you how humans stick by each other, how it's not like the animal world. How we don't abandon each other."
"We're not humans, Stiles," Malia reminds him. "Not animals, either. We're shifters, and we're pack. Right?" She holds out a hand.
After a moment, Stiles settles, and agrees. "Pack," he says, shaking her hand. "Yeah."
Derek relaxes, then neglects to ask himself why.
When the shit finally hits the fan with the Dread Doctors, Theo seems to have disappeared, and the rest of the pack need to manage on their own. Stiles doesn't think it's a coincidence, and this time nobody argues. But that might be because they're fighting for their lives.
Fighting beside a pack again feels right, if not especially nice. Fighting beside Stiles is a revelation. He's quick on his feet and always in exactly the right place, always doing something both clever and fierce. And now his cuts and bruises heal fast, like the rest of them, which is very good.
Still, strangely, he finds he misses the Stiles whose greatest weapon was his capacity to chatter nonsensically.
At the end, they're all exhausted, and the loft is closest, so they all collapse in a pile on Derek's bed without any apparent discussion. Liam and Hayden form their own little knot at the foot of the bed, Derek is pushed to the edge as Stiles curls against him and Lydia and Malia find places on the other side, Lydia whining about personal space and how she doesn't have fur, she shouldn't have to be subject to this, but she settles in soon enough anyway. Scott sprawls out overtop them all, in contact with as many of them as he can be without squishing anyone, because they're his.
It's been too long, Derek thinks. It's been too long since pack felt this much like family.
When he wakes up with his face pressed into Stiles's neck, he knows what he wants, and for the first time in a long time, he isn't afraid of what will go wrong if he tries to get it.