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Stiles knew, standing on the edge of an empty square in an abandoned town, watching Derek’s little pack surround him — all jittery with nerves and happy that he was standing again — that he wasn’t going to make it through this one.
Derek had died.
Stiles had watched him die.
Stiles’ breath hitched painfully and he turned away, looking for something to distract him. Derek had died, but he was standing now. That was all that mattered. It didn’t matter now.
“Hey.”
Stiles turned on his heel, “Hey man. Good to see you up and about.”
He winced immediately but Derek hung his head with a small smile, “Yeah.” Stiles could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. “Anyway. I was talking to Boyd and Erica. … We can’t stay in Beacon, not after… everything.”
Stiles’ stomach dropped. The blood in his ears was at a dull roar now. He felt sick but he realized he was nodding. His mouth was opening. Don’t— “Yeah. Makes sense. What about Isaac?”
Derek’s eyebrows pinched slightly, “He… wants to stay with Scott.”
Scott. Right. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure. Cora’s down in Argentina.” Derek shrugged, “We’ll start there.”
“Right.” He couldn’t breathe. “Hey. Sandy beach vacation.”
Derek let out a soft huff of amusement, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, ya know, if anyone deserves it…”
Stiles let himself trail off, glancing over towards Scott and the others. Derek’s voice came out soft, “Thanks.” Stiles forced his gaze back to Derek, to the small uptick of his lips, and he wished he didn’t love him half as much as he did. Derek tilted his head, “I know we haven’t always been friendly but you were always willing to help, so just… thanks.”
“Yeah, man,” Stiles gently hit the side of Derek’s shoulder, the memories of blood slicking his clothing too fresh to pull any real momentum out of his swing, “What the hell else was I supposed to do?”
Derek shrugged, “Could’ve run.”
“Well, that’s just not fun.” The dry crunch of gravel drew Stiles’ gaze again. Fuck. Braeden was standing near the trucks, tall, gorgeous, and badass. Stiles wanted to cry. He swallowed, coughed against the dust that settled over his tongue, “I should probably… let you go. That’s a long fucking drive, man.”
His shoes scuffed against the ground. He forced himself to keep moving, one foot after another.
“Stiles?”
Stiles turned so quickly the gravel slipped from under his shoe and he caught himself just enough to windmill back to Derek, “Yeah?”
Derek stared at him, eyebrows knit together, lips pinched, but his eyes still warm. Stiles’ next breath caught in his throat. Let me come with you.
What am I thinking?!
His dad was in Beacon and he couldn’t just abandon him. Sure, an online GED is just as good as an in-person diploma, but his dad. Maybe Stiles could convince him. Highly unlikely, but he could try. Try, for just a chance. Stiles would even deal with chewing through his cheek every time he looked at Braeden and Derek being a couple to just not have Derek go.
Derek’s eyes slipped down Stiles’ figure and then back up to his face. Insecurity reared its head and Stiles lifted a hand, brushing dirt off his cheek. Derek’s smile twitched slightly, seemed to crack, and then he spoke quietly, “Will you look after Isaac for me?” Stiles’ heart slipped further into his chest. Derek seemed to glance towards Scott and Isaac, “He’ll… still be in contact with me but it’d… it’d be nice, knowing you’re… with him.”
Stiles’ lungs seemed to squeeze. He followed Derek’s gaze over to where Isaac was standing with Boyd, Erica, and Scott. Scott seemed to be talking adamantly to them, eyebrows knit together. Derek’s little pack seemed less than impressed.
Even Isaac.
Stiles shrugged, trying to wrangle his emotions into something manageable, “It’s Isaac. Not much I can do to… watch after him.”
Derek tilted his head slightly, the rising sun catching on the gold flakes in his eyes. His smile softened, “I think you’ll be just fine.”
“If you say so.”
Stiles meant for it to come out scathing and sarcastic but his voice sounded weak in his ears. Derek’s hand gently took his elbow, squeezing, and then released. Derek moved away from him, towards the cars, towards Braeden.
Derek tried to ignore the shuffling of Stiles’ feet as the human made his way towards Scott — Scott, who was still trying to convince Erica and Boyd to stay in Beacon. Derek worked his jaw, quickly shoving the anger to the side. It wasn’t going to help him here. Braeden folded her arms across her chest as he approached, “Argentina, right?”
Derek nodded, glancing over his shoulder. Stiles had made it closer to Scott. There was a space between them. Boyd caught his gaze and gently nudged Erica, nodding towards Derek. Erica grinned at him, hugged Isaac tightly, reached over to ruffle Stiles’ hair with a softer hand than Derek had ever seen before, and then skipped towards Derek. Boyd followed at a much slower pace after clapping Isaac on the shoulder.
Isaac met Derek’s gaze, smile warm. Derek let his gaze flick over to Stiles and then back. Isaac seemed to understand because he rolled his eyes and nodded, shifting his weight just slightly to lean towards Stiles. It’d be hard to leave him behind but Isaac had volunteered.
In the darkness as they cleaned up the temple and gathered items, Isaac had approached Derek quietly. “I know you’re gonna leave. You’re going to need someone to keep an eye on Beacon.”
It had been said with something sharp and knowing in his gaze and his eyes hadn’t focused on Scott. They had landed on Stiles.
Stiles.
Derek looked over at the human. Stiles was still at the edge of the pack, Isaac bridging the gap that was left there. Derek couldn’t understand where that gap had come from. Stiles’ shoulders were curved in slightly, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes on the ground. Derek almost opened his mouth to call for him when Stiles glanced up and met his gaze.
In the dawn, his eyes seemed to glow, dripping molten gold and honey. He seemed sad, sadder than Derek expected him to be and it was almost enough to have Derek sprinting across the clearing, back to his side. Derek smiled slightly, hoping it was comforting. Stiles’ lips twitched. His gaze fell back to the ground.
Derek nodded, half to himself, half to Scott. The other alpha stared at him before his head inclined slightly too. Derek knew they’d never be friends, even if they were peaceful. Derek turned, trying to ignore how Stiles’ heartbeat stuttered behind him, “Let’s go.”
The car started smoothly underneath Derek’s hand. Derek tried not to look in the rearview as they pulled away, hands tight around the steering wheel. Braeden was quiet next to him as Derek surrendered to the worst instinct to look back. Scott had reached out, taking one of Stiles’ shoulders in his hand. Stiles looked — Derek forced his eyes forward again.
Braeden let out a breath, “Derek.”
Derek let out a grunt, ignoring the pitiful whining that had started to fill his own head. He sighed and closed his eyes for just a second. The road opened up before them and, for some reason, Derek knew exactly where this was going, “You have to go.”
Braeden gave him a small smile, “Yeah. Not that I haven’t had fun. I’ll help you get to Argentina with your pack but then… I have to go. Whatever happened back there… I can’t get tied up in that. You’ve got shit to figure out.”
“I know.”
“... Do you?” Derek felt himself start to stiffen as Braeden cast a pointed look behind them, “Because you just left the thing that needs to be figured out behind us.”
“I know.”
Braeden’s eyes narrowed at him, “Why?”
Derek cast a glance in the rearview again, watching Stiles fade into the distance, “ … I don’t know.”
“Well, I hope you figure it out.”
— — — —
The trip from Mexico to Argentina basically took an entire day but Derek woke up to the sound of waves lapping at the shore outside the house that they were staying in and the quiet heartbeats of his pack and sister close by. He buried his face further into his pillow.
Braeden had done exactly as she had promised. As soon as Derek had an arm around Cora, she left with a slight smile.
A quiet rustle from somewhere in the house drew Derek from his pillow and he blinked at the light that streamed through the window. He pushed out of bed. Making it to Argentina meant that he was back with Cora, but there was a chill that had started sinking into his gut since he had left Mexico behind, had left Stiles behind. Not even the warmth of a summer beach could chase it away.
Derek turned the corner and froze.
Peter turned slightly and smiled, “Good morning.” He lifted a small espresso cup, “Cortado?”
“What’re you doing here?”
“What? Can’t a man reunite with a long-thought-dead niece and struggling nephew?”
Derek’s eyes narrowed, “Usually, you want something.”
Peter regarded him carefully for one long moment before he put down the espresso cup and turned to fully face Derek. His arms crossed over his chest and Derek felt his spine start to stiffen. “You’re an alpha again.” Derek’s throat clicked as he swallowed and Peter tilted his head, “I’m not here for that. That power holds no appeal to me now. You’ll need a pack. Your pack. I’m here to rejoin, if you’ll have me.”
Derek shifted, watching his uncle carefully, “Why?”
Peter let out a small, disappointed sigh, “I thought you were smarter than this, Derek. I would like my family back. However... fractured it may be, and you will need as many pack members around you as possible. How is your wolf feeling?”
Derek worked his jaw. If he was being honest, his wolf had whined the entire trip to Argentina and only quieted when his sister and the rest of his pack were close. Even then, the cold in his chest hadn’t loosened. Peter raised an eyebrow. Derek bit out, “What do you know about it?”
“You left your mate behind. It’s a different type of pain, I’m sure, than having them die in front of you. Knowing you can’t protect them if something goes wrong—” Derek growled, low and threatening, and Peter held up his hands in surrender, “ — which is why you left Isaac behind, I know. I’m here to help, Derek, to have a family again. Will you grant me that?”
Peter’s eyes flickered over to the doorway behind Derek and he knew, without looking, that his pack had started spying on them. Derek sniffed, “Is that cortado still on the table?”
“Of course.”
Derek nodded, “I’ll make breakfast then.”
Peter’s smile showed his gratitude and he turned to pick up the espresso.
— — — —
The worst part about the forty hour drive from the deserts of Mexico to the Northern part of California was that Stiles kept looking in his rearview for Derek’s stupid soccer mom van. Just as they passed the border, he looked up, a little part of him wanting to watch Derek get grilled about details on his passport. Derek was always at the back of caravans, taking up the rear and protecting them in case someone was chasing them.
There was no stupid SUV. It was a lifted truck. There was no Derek taking the last spot in line, just in case. It was Stiles.
It was just Stiles.
The leather of the Jeep’s steering wheel creaked under his grip as it tightened. He blinked the blurriness away from his vision and gently pressed on the gas to follow Lydia’s car down the road.
At the next gas station, Stiles didn’t realize that he wasn’t standing alone at the pump until Isaac spoke up, “Do you mind if I ride with you for a while?”
He cast a glance towards where Scott was filling up Kira’s car. Stiles couldn’t help but think he looked more disgusted than anything else. Stiles asked, “They being gross?” Isaac's nose wrinkled. He nodded. Stiles chuckled softly and nodded back, “Yeah, get in.”
“Thanks, Man.”
The Jeep’s doors creaked as they slammed shut and Stiles gently coaxed it back to running. Isaac was quiet for one long moment before he spoke up, “I keep looking for Derek’s fucking mom car.”
The laugh that punched out of Stiles’ chest hurt, “Yeah, I do too. What was he thinking, trading in the Camaro?”
“I asked him the same damn thing,” Isaac cackled, “But I guess he was thinking of the pack.” Stiles glanced over questioningly. Isaac met his gaze and shrugged, “The Camaro wasn’t big enough for all of the pack and the Toyota is safer. If you get in a wreck… less chance of getting hurt.”
Stiles felt his eyebrows pinch, “You guys are all werewolves, why would you worry about getting hurt?” Stiles could feel Isaac’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Stiles glanced back at him, “What?”
Isaac shook his head, “Nothing. Just… it’s nothing.”
— — — —
Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. Isaac stood next to him. Stiles wasn’t sure when that had happened, when Isaac was the one standing at his side, but there he was with wild curls and a pretentious, silk scarf. Stiles watched as Scott spoke with “Theo” across the quad. He shifted on his feet, fingers tapping on his arm. He glanced over at Isaac, “What’re they talking about?”
Isaac tilted his head slightly, “Theo is warning Scott.”
“About what? About him?”
“No,” Isaac’s eyebrows knit together and Stiles couldn’t be more grateful that Derek had actually trained his betas, “He’s warning him about his pack.”
What? Stiles spit, “What’s there to warn about? We’re fine.”
“He’s saying that Scott needs to watch for us being strange?” Isaac shook his head, “That someone will betray him.”
Stiles scoffed, “Don’t tell me that Scott’s actually listening to him.”
Isaac lifted a shoulder in a shrug, “I don’t think so but I’m not in his head.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, “That’s just… great.”
Isaac leaned over to whisper, “Can I crash at your place tonight? Scott and Kira have figured out how to sneak around.”
Stiles tried to cover his snort with a cough and nodded, “Yeah, man. Absolutely. I’ll let my dad know.”
“Thanks.”
Isaac couldn’t understand why Scott wasn’t listening to him or Stiles. It was one of the reasons why Derek hadn’t ever fully let Scott pull any of his betas into his pack. “Too trusting,” and Isaac was inclined to agree as he watched Stiles flip angrily through old yearbooks. The Stilinski house was quiet and smelled of cotton, warmth, and family. Isaac sank onto the bedspread, “What’re you looking for?”
“Theo!” Stiles threw the yearbook onto his desk, digging into the box at his feet, “Because, I remember Theo from fourth grade and that… whatever he is, isn’t Theo. But Scott doesn’t believe me. He never fucking believes me!”
Isaac remembered, in the worst spots, Derek trusted Stiles more than Scott, believed him, and Isaac nodded to himself. He leaned forward on his elbows, “I believe you.”
Stiles’ head snapped up, eyes swimming in the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand. Isaac heard his throat click, “... Thanks.”
Later that night, with Stiles’ heartbeat sinking gently into sleep, Isaac reached for his phone. He had offered to stay for so many reasons but Derek had only agreed for one and Isaac knew that, knew as soon as Derek’s eyes flickered to Stiles during the first standoff between him and Scott’s pack.
Messages to Derek
Isaac
Everything’s fine for now but I think something’s about to go down.
I’ll keep an eye on S.
— — — —
Derek stared long and hard at the messages. Isaac hadn’t sent anything past that. It had been nearly five in the morning in Argentina, the beta had probably gone straight to sleep after sending Derek a warning. That’s what it was, Derek wasn’t stupid enough to think it wasn’t. Cora put a plate down in front of him, “Is that Isaac?”
Derek nodded, “Something’s… up in Beacon.”
She snorted, “When is anything down in Beacon?”
Derek shrugged, “It’s—...”
His wolf turned in tight circles in his chest. Isaac was good. He was strong and capable. He’d protect Stiles if it came down to it. It still made Derek anxious that he wasn’t there. He couldn’t get to Stiles’ side in a moment’s notice. Cora glanced at him and slowly put down her coffee mug, “Derek…” He looked up at her and she tilted her head, “You’re catastrophizing. Isaac’s smart and it’s not like Scott is going to let Stiles get hurt.”
Derek swallowed thickly. She was probably right. Scott was trusting but there wasn’t a chance that Scott would sit idly by and let his brother get hurt. He typed a quick, “keep me updated” and put his phone down, “You’re probably right.”
Cora scoffed, “I’m always right. I got it from Mom.”
Derek laughed softly, trying in vain to keep his gaze away from the phone sitting on the table. Cora was right. Stiles was fine, there was nothing for Derek to do but rebuild his life and his pack.
— — — —
Stiles knew, as soon as he tried to start the Jeep and smoke started to pour from the engine, that he was fucked. Stiles sighed and clambered out of the driver’s seat. The smoke smelled like burning plastic and Stiles coughed through it as he unrolled the duct tape to reseal the leak. The chill of the oncoming storm made him shiver as he started to plaster the tape over the hose. He’d get it fixed just enough to get home and it’d be good enough for the night—
The pain hit all at once, burning and sharp. Stiles screamed, ripping away from the feeling. Stiles scrambled forward. His fingers wrapped around cool metal and the wrench was a familiar weight in his hand and he swung. The tool made contact with flesh. Stiles ran for the school without looking back.
He could feel blood streaming down his back as he ran through the high school. It hurt but Stiles couldn’t stop. He’d be dead in a second if he stopped. He should’ve been more aware. He should’ve been watching his back. It wasn’t like Theo had been hiding his plots. Stiles could see it from a mile away. He had been half asleep while pulling duct tape. He should’ve been better—
The library doors rattled in their frames and Stiles gritted his teeth against a frustrated scream before he looked over. The new lock system— Stiles scrambled for his student ID and swiped it with a shaking hand. The pain in his shoulder had started to burn and he slammed the door closed behind him.
Stiles stumbled away from the doors, panting. The wrench was heavy in his hand and the quiet of the library sank around him. Stiles looked around. It probably wasn’t the best hiding spot but the doors locked. It would have to do for just a second—
The doors rattled and Stiles cursed under his breath.
The bite on Stiles’ shoulder burned. He hadn’t been prepared to fight like this, hiding in a dark corner of the library and clutching a fucking wrench. He pressed a hand over his mouth as the bite throbbed. He could hear Donovan’s slow, deliberate footsteps from across the library floor.
He wasn’t a werewolf.
He wasn’t Scott.
He wasn’t Derek.
Stiles felt it even more when Donovan pulled him through a bookshelf. The pain was sharp and horrible but Stiles couldn’t stop climbing even as a hand wrapped around his ankle and tugged, “Don’t worry, Stiles. I’m not gonna kill you. I’m just gonna eat your legs!”
The clattering of metal had been the last chance. There was a blur of motion and the sickening squelch of flesh impaled on a stake. Stiles couldn’t breathe as he lowered himself carefully to the floor. His ears were ringing as he watched Donovan’s blood run silver down the rod pierced through his body. Stiles could hear the rattle of his breath and his body jerked.
Stiles ran. His heartbeat pounded in his head and his lungs ached. He wasn’t breathing properly. Stiles turned the corner and ran full force into someone’s grasp. He screamed again, struggling against the grip on his wrists. He’d lost the wrench, his phone, anything he could use to protect himself— “STILES! Stiles, it’s me!” Stiles blinked rapidly, panting hard. Isaac grabbed his uninjured shoulder, “Stiles, you’re bleeding! What happened?!”
Stiles looked over his shoulder. Darkness seemed to swim around him as he stared at the library doors, “I don’t— I don’t know… Bite… there’s a bite.”
The adrenalin was bleeding from him, a stopper pulled from a drain. His blinks were getting slower and the seep of blood down his shoulder felt cold and far away, even with the burning pain. Isaac’s voice took a sharp edge but Stiles couldn’t focus enough to pull words from the jumble. Isaac believed him. Isaac wouldn’t blame him—
Everything went dark.
Isaac only just managed to catch Stiles before he fell to the ground, his eyes rolling back. He could smell fresh blood in the air, on Stiles, from the closed door down the hallway, but he couldn’t focus on that with Stiles’ weight settling heavily on his chest. Isaac swallowed thickly and pulled Stiles’ into his arms, “C’mon, man. I’ve got you.”
Isaac had never been so grateful for Derek leaving the Camaro behind for him. He carefully maneuvered Stiles into the passenger seat, buckling him in before sprinting to the driver’s side. As the engine turned over, Stiles shifted, eyelids fluttering. Pain was a sharp edge in his scent and his head kept sagging in a sickening way. Isaac reached over as they turned onto the open road.
The bite burned on his shoulder as Isaac siphoned as much pain as he could without distracting himself. He went to reach for his phone when Stiles whimpered, “D—Derek…?”
Isaac stiffened, glancing over. Stiles’ eyes weren’t focused, glazed with pain and shock. Isaac shushed him gently, “You’re okay, Stiles.”
“… Where’s… where’s Derek?”
Isaac glared at the road, “He’s coming, Stiles.”
When Stiles’ confused mumbling died down, Isaac fished his phone from his pocket, dialing Derek’s number without looking. Pick up. Fucking pick up— Derek’s voice was husky and deep from sleep, “Isaac? What’s wrong?”
Isaac worked his jaw, “I know it’s late but you need to get back to Beacon. It’s Stiles.”
Derek went deadly quiet for a moment until, “We’ll be on the first flight out.”
— — — —
Derek’s hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel of the rental car as the welcome sign for Beacon Hills appeared in front of them. It was approaching 4:30 in the afternoon and he couldn’t believe it had taken that long to get to Beacon. “Where are we going?” He growled.
Cora swiped at her phone, “Isaac said that they’re hiding out at the loft. Stiles didn’t want to go home.”
Panic wrapped further around Derek’s lungs. The rental’s engine groaned as he put the gas pedal to the floor. He heard Cora and Erica scramble to hold onto the doors. Boyd and Peter were following in their own car and he heard their engine whine to keep up as they went spinning around a turn.
The loft looked fully abandoned as the cars came to a screeching halt outside of it. Derek slammed the car door shut, not waiting for the rest of the pack. The door into the building opened silently and Derek started towards the staircase when the rustle of clothing made him pull back. He was just fast enough to catch the open, clawed hand that came swiping down. Derek almost struck back when he found Isaac’s blue eyes, “Isaac.”
Isaac let out a relieved sigh, “Oh, thank God, it’s you. I’ve been waiting for—”
Derek pulled away from Isaac, the panic hot in his stomach, “Where’s Stiles?”
“Upstairs. Sleeping, hopefully.”
Derek clapped him on the shoulder, letting the instinct to scent take over. Isaac smelled of Scott’s pack, even if it hadn’t sunken in all the way. Isaac smiled slightly at him and pulled away, nodding towards the stairs. Derek took them two at a time.
Derek threw the sliding door open. His wolf paced anxiously in his chest at the scent of blood and illness. Stiles looked up from the couch, his eyes widening, “Derek?”
He was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. His shirt was off. A hand clamped a bandage over his shoulder. Derek’s vision washed over red and he was across the room before he really understood what was happening. Derek knew his grasp around Stiles’ wrist was nothing compared to what it could be as he pried the bandage away from the skin. The bite on his shoulder had jagged edges and still bled. Small lines of red spread just slightly from it. Stiles’ skin was burning hot and Derek pulled at the pain, wincing as the ache of infection and a bleeding wound sunk into him. He growled, “You’re hurt.”
“Your eyes—” Derek blinked quickly, looking up at Stiles. The human had turned to look at him. The blood dripping sluggishly down his back didn’t seem to deter him. Stiles continued quietly, “I thought you weren’t an alpha anymore… Or did you—”
“When I died,” Stiles flinched, Derek felt it more than saw it, the shock going through the thin bones under his hands, “and came back, it was then. You couldn’t have known.”
Stiles scoffed, “Because I’m not a wolf.”
Derek looked back down at the bite, swallowing, “Is this… it’s not a wolf—”
“No.” Stiles’ voice shook, “I don’t know what it was… but it hurts.”
Derek looked over his shoulder, listening intently as his pack climbed the stairs, “I know.” He couldn’t fight against the instinct as he leaned forward to press his forehead to Stiles’ cheek, nosing at his jawline. Stiles let out a sharp noise of surprise. Derek sighed as the scent of cinnamon and cotton, however laced with sweat and illness it was, sank into his lungs, “I know. I’m here now…”
Stiles’ breath brushed past his cheek, “ … you don’t have to be… You didn’t have to come back for… this.”
Derek shook his head, “I know I didn’t.”
I came back for you.
Derek squeezed his eyes shut, pressing close for one more moment before pulling away as Erica and Cora bounded past the door. Stiles straightened, “Erica, Cor— Peter?”
Derek glanced behind him at his pack. He knew, even after pulling away, that he was much too close to play it as anything but what it was. Granted, Derek glanced at Peter, who was already looking at him, eyes gentle in a way that Derek hadn’t seen in years. He had already called Derek on it. Peter smirked, “Surprised, Stiles? How unlike you.”
Stiles’ voice was getting stronger the longer Derek pulled the pain from him. Stiles hadn’t pushed him away yet so it had to be worse than he had let on around Isaac. “I assumed we’d seen the last of you after Mexico.”
“Not at all,” Peter rounded the couch, eyes finding the bite, “I’m here to assist my alpha.”
Stiles’ eyes found Derek’s. The question in them was loud and Derek nodded.
Stiles glanced over at Peter before nodding back, “Okay.”
Derek’s wolf purred happily at the automatic trust that Stiles offered him and his pack. Derek glanced at Peter, “Do you know what it is?”
“I do. You continue to impress me, Stiles,” Peter’s voice betrayed him, the soft pride and underlying fear showed exactly how important Stiles was, “Taking down a Lamprey by yourself is truly a feat.”
Stiles winced, his fingernails digging into the back of Derek’s hand, “I… I guess.”
Derek glanced at Isaac, who met his gaze and shook his head. They’d talk about it later. Peter tilted his head, “I’ll get the things I need from the car. Isaac, Boyd, be useful.”
Boyd rolled his eyes, but nudged Isaac into following him. Stiles sagged slightly into Derek’s embrace, sighing as the girls escaped into the kitchen. Peter’s voice was soft, far enough away that Stiles wouldn’t be able to hear it, “You need to stop pulling his pain. You’ll need strength to fight if we have to.”
The subvocal growl that rumbled from Derek’s chest made Stiles shift closer.
“I know,” Peter continued, “I am sorry, Derek, but we have to be ready.”
Derek closed his eyes and carefully siphoned off pulling the pain. Stiles grunted as the pain folded back over him. Derek whispered, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Stiles replied, “I know you can’t do it forever. Thanks… for taking a little bit.”
I’d take it all if I could. Derek nodded, “Of course.”
They sat in silence after that. Stiles’ skin got hotter under his hands and the blood had yet to stop.
Derek glanced up as footsteps sounded on the staircase. Isaac and Boyd followed Peter into the room. Peter spoke smoothly, “We’ll need to clean that bite, Stiles.”
“I already did—”
“With something else.” Derek sat up straighter, eyes finding the bottle in his uncle’s hands, “Cora, Erica, if you’ll hold Stiles. Boyd, Isaac.”
It happened too fast for Derek to object. Hands wrapped around his arms, dragging him up and away from Stiles in one smooth move. Cora and Erica grabbed Stiles’ arms and legs. Peter put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and pressed a rag to the open wound. For a second, it felt like the world was holding its breath until Stiles started screaming.
The shift came over Derek instinctively. His mate screaming in pain was all it took for his wolf to take over. Boyd’s and Isaac’s weight were all that kept Derek from leaping across the room and killing Peter. Stiles squirmed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed. His betas’ voices were jumbled until Stiles let out a croaking, “D—Derek, it’s okay.”
The fight drained a little and Peter’s voice was calm, “Keep talking to him, Stiles.”
“It’s okay, Derek. It— It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Stiles’ voice was soft as he spoke. When Derek could finally pull control back, Stiles was wrapped in a blanket, panting weakly. Boyd and Isaac were basically laying over him to keep him still. Derek met Peter’s gaze and watched as his uncle nodded, “Let him go.”
The weight disappeared and Derek hefted himself to his paws, carefully making his way to Stiles’ side. “I’ll get him some clothes,” Cora offered, “I think we should let Stiles sleep.”
Derek huffed agreeably and gently nudged Stiles’ hand. The human nodded and let Isaac maneuver him to his feet. Derek followed, supporting Stiles’ other side. The bedding smelled freshly washed and Stiles didn’t fight it as Isaac helped him under the covers. Derek nosed at the covers until Stiles brushed his muzzle with a gentle drag of fingers. “... I missed you.”
Derek felt his tail wag once and he rested his head fully on the mattress next to Stiles, watching as he drifted off.
Cora brought him clothing and Derek dressed as quickly as he could before joining his pack downstairs, “Who did it?”
Isaac looked over at him, “... Donovan. He’s dead.” Derek opened his mouth when Isaac cut him off, “It wasn’t me.”
Derek ran a hand through his hair as Peter tilted his head, “I always knew Stiles was the right choice.”
Isaac scoffed, “Yeah but you bit Scott. Thanks for that, by the way. Notice who’s missing from this?”
Derek worked his jaw, “Not important—”
“It’s important when Scott didn’t believe Stiles when he warned him about Theo,” Isaac seethed, “The only reason why we’re in this mess is because Scott’s pack can’t keep an eye on their fucking human member and it’s not like Scott cares enough to track him down. All he’s worried about is listening to Theo—”
“Enough,” Derek interrupted, “I’m back now. This won’t happen again.”
Cora glanced between them, “Are we staying?”
Derek paused. He hadn’t thought he’d be back but he should’ve known. Leaving Stiles behind forever was never in the cards, not with how peaceful his wolf and head felt now. Boyd spoke up, “I wouldn’t hate it.”
Erica nodded agreeably. Peter smiled, “We’d need a new pack house. Especially with a mated alpha.”
Cora’s eyes lit up, “We could rebuild—”
Derek shook his head, “Let’s deal with this problem before thinking about houses and…” He shot a look at Peter, “That’s not happening.”
Peter shrugged, looking unapologetically smug. Isaac spoke up simply, “He thought I was you.”
All eyes snapped to him. Isaac lifted a shoulder, “In the Camaro, when I was driving him here, after everything, he thought I was you. He asked for you. I think I saw your contact information open on his phone more than it was ever open on mine. So… whatever’s not happening, I’d… maybe, rethink the plan.”
Derek’s gaze snapped towards the door as his ears caught the sound of an unfamiliar engine, “Hush. What is that?”
Isaac tilted his head, listening, before his eyes widened, “Scott.”
Derek let the door slam as he threw it open, stalking towards the alpha getting out of the car, “Where were you?”
“Derek? What the fuck— Where’s Stiles?”
Isaac’s voice came out quick and sharp, “He’s resting.”
Scott’s eyes widened even more, “Isaac? What’re you—”
“Protecting my pack. What’re you doing here?”
“Your—” Scott shook his head, “I need to talk to Stiles. Theo said—”
Isaac let out a sharp laugh, “And you believe him?! Are you fucking with me?”
“Stiles killed—”
Derek cut him off, “It was self-defense.”
Scott’s gaze snapped to him. Derek had once thought that Scott could be part of his family. Derek couldn’t recognize the man standing in front of him. Scott’s jaw tightened, “That’s not— We need to be better—”
“We are.” Derek snarled, “We’re better because we don’t hunt innocent creatures. Stiles did what he had to to survive. He’s breathing, isn’t that more important than a fake high road?”
“We shouldn’t—”
“Stiles is human. He doesn’t have the strength to fight off a Lamprey or the speed to run from a fight when he decides it’s not worth it.” Derek flicked his gaze up and down Scott’s body, “I don’t know what he sees in you. You’re pathetic.”
Scott growled, eyes flashing red, “You left. You don’t get to talk—”
Derek growled back and a stab of pride rushed through him as Scott took a step back at the color of his eyes, “I’m back now. This is my pack and my land. You’re a guest here, McCall. You’ve failed your pack. I’m here to fix your mess and you can tell Theo to watch his back because I’m coming for his head next.”
Scott took another step back, eyes flicking between Derek, Isaac, and Peter, who was leaning against the wall near the door. Scott straightened his back — Derek almost laughed at the posturing. — before he turned and walked back towards the car. Isaac shifted on his feet, “He’ll be back.”
Derek turned on his heel, spitting over his shoulder, “Let him.”
— — — —
Stiles stirred as consciousness crept back over him. He didn’t feel as hot as he had when he had fallen asleep, a hand on a wolf’s muzzle. His eyes snapped open. Derek— The sun was low in the sky, a soft glow filtering through the window. Stiles’ head felt fuzzy still, fighting through the start of an infection.
At least, until Peter—
“You’re thinking too much,” A hand gently touched his hip. When Stiles went to roll over, Derek stopped him, “Don’t. You don’t want to lay on that shoulder right now. Not until it’s healed.”
Stiles blinked. The ache in his shoulder was phenomenally better than it had been. “I don’t know,” Stiles mused quietly, “It feels a lot better after Peter lit it on fire.”
Derek let out a soft laugh, “Well, if you can joke about it… Here…”
Stiles glanced over his shoulder, watching as Derek moved around the bed before sinking back down next to him. “I’m assuming this is what you wanted.”
Stiles swallowed. The months in Argentina had done Derek good. His skin was tan, hair dark and trimmed neatly, and his smile— Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Derek smile like that, soft and sweet around the edges with crinkled eyes. Stiles blinked dumbly for a second before he nodded. He tucked his hands close around himself to keep from doing something stupid, like touching.
Derek lifted a hand, brushing the back of his palm over Stiles’ forehead, “Your fever broke… Do you need some water? Food?” Stiles shook his head and Derek nodded, seemingly to himself, “You should call your dad.”
“I will,” Ah, see?! Stiles could totally still talk in front of a sun-kissed Derek Hale, even with a dry mouth, “I just—... no offense, didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Derek rolled his eyes, “I told you, Isaac was still in contact with me.”
“That didn’t mean—”
“I missed you too.”
Stiles’ teeth clicked shut. “I’m— sorry, what?”
“I missed you,” Derek repeated patiently, a warm palm cupping Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles pressed into the touch without thinking, every nerve lighting up. He sucked in a breath, forcing his mind to slow, “Speaking of Peter—”
“I didn’t see it coming either.” Derek chuckled and Stiles thanked whatever god was listening that he accepted Stiles’ shitty segue, “He showed up in Argentina and I couldn’t turn him away.”
“Why not?”
“He’s family… and… he’s pretty smart when given the chance. You just gotta look past the asshole issues.”
Stiles let out a soft laugh, “How did he convince you to let him stay?”
Silence washed over them. Stiles almost changed the subject again before Derek asked, “Do you want the truth?”
Stiles stared, long and hard, at the soft gold flecks in Derek’s eyes, “… yeah.”
Derek took a deep breath and his thumb swiped over Stiles’ cheek, “He told me I needed a strong pack… because I left my mate behind, and I knew he was right.”
Stiles froze. He was pretty sure his ears were ringing, the blood pounding in his brain. He blinked rapidly, letting his heart hurt on the question before asking, “Braeden?”
Derek barked out a laugh, “No. She’s in Spain, last I heard.”
“Then who—?”
“Stiles,” Derek pulled him closer, a solid arm around his waist, “Don’t be dumb.”
Stiles really didn’t mean to be but his head was spinning at the confession. Mate?! “Mate?”
“It’s fast,” Derek conceded, “But… wolves choose and we’re loyal. It doesn’t have to mean anything to you. That doesn’t matter to me—” How can he say that?! “— I just want to be close.”
Stiles shook his head, “Derek, I—“ Derek’s arms shifted, grip loosening, “Don’t pull away! Let me think. Fuck, give a guy a chance to breathe. I’ve been in love with you for years. This is a bit of a shock, okay?”
Derek’s eyes widened, the green being swallowed by red. Stiles winced, “That came out wrong—”
“No, that was perfect.”
Derek leaned forward, pressing their lips together. Their first kiss was a soft, dry slide of lips and it lit up every nerve-ending. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him close. Hands slipped down his body, fingers skimming bare skin, finding his hips and tugging. When Stiles pulled away, Derek nuzzled his cheek, stubble rubbing against his skin. All Stiles could do was tilt his head and let Derek scent him. “When are you going back—?”
Derek’s answer came out hard and true, “I’m never leaving you again.”
Stiles let out a quiet laugh, “Okay.”
Derek pressed a soft kiss to his temple, his cheek, another one on his lips, before he pulled away enough to look Stiles in the eyes, “We’re going to take care of Theo. We’ll clean up this fucking mess that Scott made and then we’re taking it slow.”
“Slow,” Stiles repeated incredulously, arching a brow.
Derek nodded, “Slow. We’ll fix this, I’ll start rebuilding the pack house, and then I’m courting you.”
Stiles’ stomach swooped, “Courting me?”
Derek hummed, leaning forward to gently nudge at Stiles’ neck, “Dates, food, gifts, I’ll do it right, Stiles. Promise.”
Stiles tilted his head to the side, sighing, “As long as I can court you back…”
Stiles could feel Derek’s lips curling into a smile on his skin, “I’d love nothing more.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Stiles wrapped his arms more firmly around Derek, ignoring the hot spark of a healing wound on his shoulder.
Things were still bad outside. Stiles wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d be easy but he had a pack, a pack that believed him, and a man who crossed a continent to get to him.
Stiles stroked the baby hairs on the back of Derek’s neck, pressing his nose into Derek’s temple.
He found himself smiling despite it all as Derek murmured into his skin, “I love you, Stiles.”
“I love you too.”
— — FIN — —