To the End - formeldehyde (2024)

Chapter 1: No Call No Show

Chapter Text

Stiles had been staying at the Holiday Inn near Wichita- investigating a string of missing kids in the area. The whole thing was grueling and depressing, talking to grieving families who wanted nothing more than to have their loved ones returned; and knowing deep down they weren't just missing. He'd barely slept the two weeks he'd been there. It felt like the old days, high school. Staring for hours at a board covered in red string, surviving off adderall and microwave dinners. Spending sleepless nights by the blue light of his laptop. The only thing keeping him sane was the knowledge that when they figured this case out, he would be off for a few weeks and be able to just do nothing for the first time in years.

That grace period would never come.

Stiles didn't even get a call. No, he had to find out Derek was dead from the f*cking Beacon Hills Daily News website. Of course he still had the notifications on, how could he not when his friends and family lived in the supernatural hellfire that was the little town he grew up in? In clear letters it wrote, “Derek Hale, 37, owner of Hale Mechanics, passed away in a fiery car accident last weekend. His family will hold a private ceremony this week.”

He was on his way to work when he saw it. He nearly swerved off the road. Instead, he pulled off on the side of the highway and just ran out into the empty field to his right. His knees buckled beneath him and he couldn’t breathe. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even remember his partner was following him to the office in another car. The panic was building and he was heaving for breath, the hot Kansas sun was burning his skin and he couldn’t breathe- he couldn’t see anything but the thick haze of dusty dirt.

He woke up in the back of Harvey’s car, the AC blasting on his face. Harvey’s dark eyebrows twisted in concern, his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. “Yes, sir, he’s awake now… Are you okay Stilinksi?”

Stiles shook his head, clawing off his tie. His white button up was covered in dirt and gravel. He must’ve passed out. He tried to count his breath, inhale 8, hold 6, exhale 8. His hands were shaking terribly and tears started streaming down his cheeks. Harvey reached out, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing it softly.

-

A day later, Stiles was taken off the case and told to take ‘some time off’. He was pissed, but couldn’t argue with his superiors. Usually, he would’ve fought tooth and nail, but he just nodded… empty. He felt guilty, abandoning the case but he wasn't given any choice. Apparently not many FBI agents had panic attacks on the clock and this warranted him getting a psych evaluation when he came back from his leave of absence.

He packed up his things from his desk and the hotel room in a dissociative haze. Then he sent out a text to his roommate back in DC that he’d be gone for a while due to ‘family stuff’. It wasn't until after his roommate had told him he hoped everything was okay, Stiles realized what he'd said wasn’t really a lie. Stiles hadn’t seen Derek in years, about since he became a full time agent and Derek became a full time dad. Derek was still someone he thought of when he said his family lived in Beacon Hills. Stiles pictured his dad, Scott, Melissa and Derek. He saw them all hanging out on the bleachers of Eli's lacrosse games, or Derek and Scott running around with Malia in the preserve. He knew his Dad and Derek had become close because John mentioned him often on their weekly phone calls. It always made him happy to hear that Derek's life had been seemingly calm and normal.

He thought about him often, and when he did- he tried not to dwell on that time he thought he saw him in a bar in New York; the way that Stiles’ throat closed up and his entire face and chest bloomed into an anxious-excited blush. Only for the guy to turn around and just be another tall, dark, and handsome man sporting a leather jacket. No, that was in the box. The one deep in his mind that had been building since he was sixteen, labeled 'thoughts about Derek I don't want to address.' Before he left for Quantico, the box had almost left his mind completely. He was finally with Lydia, and he thought that would be the end of his complicated feelings for the werewolf. And it was, for a year or two. Until Lydia dumped him and moved to LA.

After that, he spent a lot of time clubbing when he wasn't working. Maybe in some attempt to make up for the carefree partying he'd missed playing little red riding hood throughout his high school years. This is also when he (rather quickly) realized he wasn't straight. He'd always known he found Derek attractive, and Danny to a certain point, but he never could picture dating either of them. Stiles soon came to the conclusion that was because he couldn't see himself dating anyone but Lydia for all those years. And now that dream was dead, it was glaringly obvious that Stiles had been repressing a lot of himself for a long time.

He'd had a boyfriend for a while, but it was so hard to connect with normal people. His life was so chaotic and traumatic, the normalcy of the people in the dating scene felt futile. They broke up about six months ago, and Stiles didn't really feel anything about it. He never thought about the guy. He did, however, find himself thinking more and more about Derek.

They never really kept in touch, but it felt like they didn’t need to. He felt like Derek was where he wanted to be, home and happy. Stiles didn’t want to interfere and he didn't worry about him much since the last text they exchanged about a year ago.

-

Stiles, please come get your Jeep before Eli ends up totalling it. -DH

The younger man snorted at the thought of Derek having a delinquent son who f*cked with him. Derek needed some goofiness in his life. He’d texted back quickly with a smile on his face.

Hey sourwolf! Long time to talk or see! I have nowhere to keep her and you promised me you’d look after her so you're outta luck for now. Also please tell Eli I said I like him already! -SS

Do I have to beg? Because I’m pretty close at this point. -DH

While the idea of you begging is pretty amusing, I really can’t get it dude. I have one parking spot at my complex and I doubt the FBI would let me drive the Jeep around. Sorry. -SS

Chapter 2: Home to Roost

Chapter Text

Stiles was on the next flight to San Jose, and from there he’d rent a car and make the drive back to Beacon Hills.

The flight passed in a blur, he'd stared out the window and just tried not to cry. He'd ordered several jack and co*kes until he finally passed out for the last hour of the flight; his body just giving up and falling into a dreamless sleep. The drive was pretty much the same. He knew he should've got a cab, he was pretty tipsy. But he couldn't bring himself to care if he hit a f*cking tree and died. He just stared at the yellow lines, haunted by memories of Derek. All the time spent the two had spent fighting didn't even make it to the cut. He thought of how strong Derek was, he thought of comforting the broken man who had his wolf used against him over and over. He thought of holding Derek in his arms after Boyd died.

It started with Stiles' hand on his shoulder. Derek finally had the strength to stand and Stiles just pulled him in. He remembered being surprised that the older man didn't even flinch- just sank into Stiles' embrace. They stayed there, soaked in water and tears and surrounded by the sound of Cora's grieving.

"It wasn't your fault," Stiles had said quietly into Derek's ear. "All this bad stuff happens, but it's not your fault. I'm so sorry, Derek."

Derek pulled away at that, giving Stiles a wordless nod that he knew was a thank you.

-

Stiles drove straight to Beacon Hills with fury in his chest. Only to find himself stuck behind the funeral procession about two minutes passed the town line. They were headed to the preserve. Derek was being buried by his old house. The knowledge of that was enough for the dam to break. He screamed, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. Stuck behind cars he knew, and thankful he was in a rental car none of them would be able to recognize. He kept his head down and followed behind the procession. He stopped at the edge of the preserve. Unable to follow to the old Hale property.

No, No, No was all he could chant to himself. This couldn't be happening. Derek couldn't have died in a f*cking car accident that's nearly impossible given he's a f*cking werewolf. Something must've happened. What the f*ck happened?! And why the f*ck did no one bother to tell him?!

Stiles parked and got out running into the woods and stopping at a big old oak tree, sliding down the bark and planting on the forest floor. It smelled like home, like the night Scott got bit, like training days where they'd run around these woods. Like him getting stuck out here when he was possessed, that fear of someplace so familiar looking so terrifying. Like finding Malia. Like seeing Laura's body torn apart. These woods haunted by Derek's past, now being the very same woods to hold his decaying body. Stiles just cried into his hands. So hard his head was aching and his stomach churning with snot. He realized he hadn't eaten in days. He stayed there for what felt like hours.

Stiles thought he'd walked far enough- in the opposite direction of the house- that no one would hear or see him. Obviously, he'd spent too much time away from werewolves. He'd forgotten his old pack mates could probably smell him.

Then, there was Cora.

"Hey kid," She said. Making Stiles jump and hit his head on a low hanging branch.

"f*ck! You scared the sh*t out of me," He said, rubbing the spot on the top of his head that was throbbing.

"Still a klutz, I see," she said, poking at him but not with as harsh of a tone as he was used to from the younger Hale. She came and sat down next to him. "Are you alright?"

Stiles knew he couldn't lie, she'd obviously heard him crying if the tear stains and swollen eyes weren't already giving him away. He just shook his head. "Why aren't you at the funeral?"

"I can't be near that house. I don't know why Derek wanted to be buried anywhere near it. Isaac wanted to, I told him I'd wait for him by the road to go to the service after this." Cora looked sad, but not like she'd been crying. Stiles couldn't imagine how hard this was for her. She had no one left now, except Peter. But he didn't count he was insane. He could see her and Malia getting along, or ripping each other apart for being way too similar.

The words 'Derek' and 'buried' were just too much. Stiles started to cry again, not even caring what Cora thought of him.

She cringed, reaching her arm out to pat Stiles' leg. "I'm sorry."

"He's your brother, I should be the one-" he took a shaky breath, "comforting you."

"I didn't love him like you did... I barely knew him at all."

"I didn't- I mean- what?"

Cora rolled her eyes. "It's obvious, Stiles. I had my suspicions when we spent that day talking about him and Paige. You cried. You cried for him. I thought maybe you two would've gotten together by now but uh... sorry I'm really not good at comforting people I'm making this worse aren't I?"

Stiles didn't say anything, just got up and headed back to his car. She wasn't far from the truth, but hearing it out loud was just too much for him to bear. Losing a friend, who you maybe had a crush on, was one thing. But losing the man he loved- even if that's what it felt like... he couldn't deal with that.

She ran after him, her dark hair being blown around by the wind. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just meant that you have every right to be upset-"

"Every right?!" Stiles screamed, with so much anger it shocked him.

Cora stopped in her tracks, brown eyes going wide. She had never seen him like this.

"Were you here? Are you gonna tell me what the f*ck happened?!" He shouted, voice hoarse from all the tears.

"I wasn't."

Stiles fumed. "Who was?!"

Cora looked unsure, like she was scared of what Stiles would do if he found out the answer.

"Scott," Stiles answered for her.

"You don't understand-"

"Oh I understand just fine! Scott has always says Derek is his brother but he's left him for dead more times than I can f*cking count!" Stiles got in his car, ignoring Cora's pleas.He drove off, following the cars to... his dad's house?

Stiles parked down the street, trying to calm his breathing as he watched the attendants wander in. There were less cars than the ones who went to the funeral. Not that there was that many to begin with. He watched as his dad walked in, arm around a teenage boy. Stiles' heart skipped a beat, that was Eli. He'd only seen photos of him from when he was much younger. He looked a lot like Stiles did at that age, tall and scrawny. Then there was Lydia, Jackson, and Ethan, and he fully ducked his head when he saw her going inside. Melissa and Chris, followed by Malia and Parrish, 'are they together now?' he thought to himself. Cora and Isaac, then finally Scott and...

Allison?

Stiles jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A ghost right in front of his eyes, but she wasn't like she used to be. Her hair was long and darker, her face aged, something about her was just... different. Was he going crazy? In that moment he couldn't control himself. He opened the door and ran towards them. Scott's eyes bugged out of his head when they met Stiles'. Still, Stiles ran with open arms to go and hug her. "Ali! Oh my god, you're alive!" he yelled, tears falling down his cheeks. He fell into her and he could feel her tense. He quickly pulled away, realizing the hug was not being reciprocated.

"Stiles... right?" She said, eyebrows raised in confusion. Still she smiled at him and he couldn't describe the emotion it evoked.

"Uh.. yeah? You uh-you don't remember?" They both looked at Scott, and he ducked his head in embarrassment.

Then, all his anger came back. "Is there anything you wanna catch me up on Scott?!"

"A lot has happened in the last week, dude. I was gonna call you but," he titled his head towards Allison, "I just haven't got the chance."

"So no one decided to let me know Derek is f*cking dead," his voice cracked at the last word.

"I thought you wouldn't care, you guys weren't exactly close," Scott responded in a tone that made Stiles fully lose it. Scott gestured for Allison to head inside and she did quickly. And that hurt Stiles too. Did she really not remember him at all?

"I lo-I cared about him!" Stiles screamed, not caring who heard him. "I cared about her too!" He pointed towards Allison who was greeted at the door by everyone else. It was then they all took note of Stiles, as he was screaming at Scott in the yard. "Why the f*ck didn't anyone call me? She's alive?! Derek's de-Derek's gone?! What happened? What the f*ck happened?!" He yelled through sobs at the Alpha, tears falling from his face and venom dripping from his words.

Scott's confusion and embarrassment quickly turned into pity, those damn puppy dog eyes as he answered. "The nogitsune- Derek died killing it-"

Stiles' stomach lurched at the word but his fear couldn't even compare to the rage he felt. "Did you even try to not let Derek sacrifice himself?! Or why do I have the feeling you were too f*cking busy with her! Just like you were for years!! When you almost let me and Derek f*ckin' drown!" Stiles yelled, shoving Scott hard in the chest. "I fought that thing once, I should've been the first person you called!"

Quickly, Stiles' Dad was outside, rushing to his side to pull him away from Scott. Stiles collapsed into his dad's chest, until he realized he also hadn't called him. He shoved his father away, not even bothered by the look of hurt in the sheriff's eyes. "You didn't tell me either!"

"Son, please. This the man's service, we can talk about this later. Now really isn't the time, I'm sorry we didn't tell you. I really am."

Stiles looked up at his dad and saw the kid- Eli, over his shoulder peeking out of the door, eyes full of tears. Behind him, Lydia with wide eyes that darted away from his as soon as they met. Allison staring at him like a stranger. Chris shaking his head in disapproval. He'd never felt more unwanted in his life. He just nodded and walked away, towards the rental car.

-

Derek smiled at Stiles, grabbing the keys to Roscoe from his hand. "Can't promise you I won't trade it for scraps." It was the end of summer, the night was hot and the auto shop was lit by orange fluorescents and the fading sunset behind the trees. Derek looked beautiful. His hair lacking hair gel, soft with just a bit of curl and falling on his forehead, his beard a bit more grown out, wearing his work clothes; a grease covered band shirt and blue jeans. His tan skin red on his cheeks, probably from being outside. Stiles had to keep avoiding eye contact to stop from ogling the wolf. Lydia was waiting for him in her car across the street.

"Oh my god was that a joke? You're really growing up, Derek!" Stiles laughed.

Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles could see a small smile fighting its way up Derek's cheeks.

"Im gonna miss you, Sourwolf," Stiles said, honestly. And it felt nice knowing Derek could tell he was telling the truth. He really would miss their bickering, making Derek mad. It was one of Stiles' favorite parts of the hell that had been being a high schooler in Beacon Hills.

The wolf looked a bit shocked, maybe a bit happy to hear that. "I never liked that nickname, for the record."

"You love it!" Stiles said, nudging Derek on the shoulder. Unaware that Derek had a faint blush spreading across his chest.

Derek didn't deny it. "Be careful in DC, I don't know how the hell you made it through FBI training but I really don't want to have to carry you out of gunfire again."

"Aww are you saying you care if I live or die, Mista Hale? That means so much," Stiles joked in a southern accent, faking tears and pretending to fan himself like a woman about to faint in an old movie.

Derek said nothing. Just lurched forward and grabbed the younger man, hugging him so tightly Stiles briefly wondered if Derek was just going to kill him to save himself from all these ooey-gooey feelings. But no, they just hugged. For what felt like too long to be normal. It wasn't their first hug. But it was the first that Derek had initiated. Stiles just drank it in, the smell of motor oil and sweat coming off Derek's skin. He spent the whole encounter trying to ignore how good the older man smelled, and how safe and happy Stiles felt in his big arms.

Stiles pulled away first. "For the record, I was the one saving you," he replied, so Derek didn't have to answer to his sudden desire for physical contact.

Derek laughed, really laughed and Stiles couldn't believe how amazing that sound was. "If it helps you sleep, keep thinking that."

Stiles smiled. And gave him a wave. "I'll see you soon. Maybe around the holidays."

The older man nodded and went to unlock the jeep. "Bye Stiles."

"Bye, Der." Stiles said as he jogged off to Lydia.

Derek had never been more glad Stiles wasn't a wolf. Or he would've smelled the arousal and heard his heart flutter at the nickname.

-

Stiles sat outside the service, unable to cry, his pain building impossibly in his chest. He knew what he had to do. There was no other way around this. He cursed, and punched the steering wheel so hard it nearly broke his finger. Tears stung the back of his throat but he couldn't let them fall. He started the car and headed to see the last person he wanted to deal with right now.

f*cking Peter.

Chapter 3: Come Back to Me

Chapter Text

Stiles pounded on the heavy metal door. His hands shaking, scared of opening the door and seeing how this place must've changed since Derek used to live here.

No one answered. He swore Peter lived here, Stiles still kept an eye on him. Off the clock. Peter had been “reformed” but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Stiles waited for hours, sitting with his back to the door of the loft. He sighed, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jacket and turning it on. It was filled with unread texts and he huffed. See? How hard was it to send him a f*cking text now?!

From Lydia:Are you okay?

From Scotty:Sorry I didn't call you, dude.I don'treally know why its me ur mad at though. We're all upset about this. Especially Eli who u freaked out btw. Please can we talk once all this is over?

From Daddio:We need to talk about whathappened today. Come by for dinner?

From Lydia : Ididn't know no one told you about Derek. I thought you just didn't want to come. I know you cared about him more than you let on...

From Malia: Lydia told me to text you, I'm sorryabout Derek.

From Mama McCall: Your dad told me what happened today. Is everything ok? I miss you, kiddo. Can I see you before you go back home? <3

-

The pack had all gathered at Scott's apartment, well the old pack that is.

"I'm still recovering memories," Allison said sadly. Lydia was holding her hand. "I remember him... kinda. Like I remember Scott having a best friend but I just can't remember us being friends. It's all still really hazy," she rubbed her head.

Scott pouted, "It's okay, that's okay. He just doesn't understand what happened. Don't feel bad." He rushed to her side and held her on the shoulder in support. She smiled at him and he blushed. "I'm just so happy you're back."

Isaac shuffled awkwardly, looking down at his feet. She didn't really remember him either.

"Why do we have to be here?" Jackson said, and Ethan's expression agreed with his boyfriend.

"Because I said so," Lydia responded. "And because I can't risk having to be alone with Stiles if he shows up, you guys are my out."

Jackson rolled his eyes but didn't fight.

"I talked to Stiles, before he uh came over," Cora admitted. She wanted to stay out of all of this, given how she saw Stiles earlier. However, she really was worried about Stiles. He was always the one she hated the least out of the McCall Pack, save for Isaac. And she'd never once seen him mad like that, except for when he thought his dad was going to be killed. But even then, he still had hope. He was so emptywhen she talked to him. He reminded her of Derek, honestly.

Everyone's heads swung towards her. "When?" Scott pressed.

She walked towards the middle of the group, away from where her and Isaac were leaning against the wall by the door. "In the preserve during the funeral, he smelled a bit drunk, I heard his cries from a mile away, and smelled them even further..." Everyone, save for Jackson and Ethan, had a sympathetic look on their faces. "I went to find him. And he was just crying under a tree by himself. He just... he's heartbroken. Someone he loved died and no one told him, also no one told him about any of the events leading up to it. He feels like he could've saved Derek but you," she looked at Scott, "didn't even give him a chance to try. No one told him the nogitsoon...nagasone-"

"Nogitsune," Lydia corrected.

Cora scoffed, "Nogistune, was back at all."

"No one could've saved Derek," Scott responded.

"That may be true, but it might take some time for Stiles to understand that. I'm still trying to understand what happened myself."

"Wait did you say he loved him?" Isaac asked. "When I was around they were always fighting."

Cora didn't want to say anything, but now everyone was waiting for her response. She sighed, "I mean yeah clearly."

"In what way?" Allison asked, unaware that everyone else probably just assumed Cora meant platonically.

"In the way that I genuinely thought Stiles might've torn Scott's head off if he was a wolf. He stormed off right after I told him I wasn't here when Derek died but... Scott was," Cora responded.

Scott made a noise, moving his arms around in confusion like he was offended.

"Well you were," Isaac retorted.

Lydia looked confused for a second, then she just, maybe in some attempt to lighten the mood, "So... first Jackson now Stiles... why do I make my exes gay?"

"No woman could ever compare to you, so there's no point in trying with another girl," Jackson said, half joking but everyone could tell he was being honest.

Lydia smiled and laughed a bit. "Yeah that sounds right," but you could hear the sadness in her words. Jackson knew the truth about why they broke up, no one else really did. She did love him but it'd been so long since they broke up. Even then, she couldn't risk being around him. Even if there were no cars involved. It was just too scary for her.

"Stiles isn't gay," Malia said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I would know."

"Stiles is not straight," Isaac laughed but said with near certainty.

"Something you wanna share with the class?" Cora asked with an accusatory tone.

Isaac wrapped his arm around Cora, "Wasn't with me babe. I just meant we took lacrosse with him, he was always checking out Danny and asking if he thought Stiles was hot. Also he told me he was bi when I ran into him at a concert in DC that one time. He was with a guy."

Scott looked like his brain was broken but Lydia just smiled, "Good for him."

"Wait just because he's bi doesn't mean he was in love with Derek, that's crazy," Scott whined.

"Can we focus, please?" Jackson begged. "I want to not be here so bad."

"Okay so what do we do about him?" Scott repeated.

"Wait for him to come to you," Allison answered. "He's too fragile right now, I get it. He just needs time. I'm sure he feels bad about what happened but he's just...heartbroken. Like Cora said. Even if it's not like that, he obviously really cared about the guy."

-

Stiles felt like crying all over again, reading the texts. But, before he had the chance to respond to anyone, he heard the elevator ding. Peter came walking out in a black suit. Even he was invited, Jesus Christ! He looked oddly normal. Just some more grey in his beard and in his hair, but still with the same sh*t-eating grin on his face.

"Well, I was expecting to see you at the funeral. But then I overheard what you did, you punched Scott?" The older werewolf laughed.

"I did not... I shoved him," Stiles clarified.

"Either way, good job. He still irks me."

Stiles rolled his eyes. He shoved his fingers in his mouth, returning to the very entertaining activity of biting his nails and the skin around them til they were red and sore.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Are the wild hunt trying to take us again? Or are you going to arrest me?"

Stiles stood up, putting his phone away. He ran his fingers through his hair, grown out and shaggy. It had been some time since he'd cut it. He gestured for Peter to let him inside. The older wolf followed and unlocked the door. They both walked in and Peter slid the heavy door shut. "You've grown up well, you look good... well good except you look a bit like you're having an allergic reaction but I guess that's just all the big feelings," and even if it was kind of a nice thing to say; it sounded slimy coming out of Peter's mouth. He didn't respond.

Stiles sighed, looking around at the loft. The rows of books, the douchey golden telescope by the door to the balcony, the now wooded floors, the way it now smelled like leather, cigars, and scented candles when it used to smell like Derek; chamomile tea, sweat, and fresh pine. Logically, Stiles new that Derek moved out of here and into his new house right before Stiles moved to DC. But he'd only been there a few times. Then a year later he adopted Eli after his mom passed away, and moved the kid in. But to Stiles, the loft is where the Derek he knew lived. Almost all of his memories of him were here, or in Stiles' old room. He could still picture Derek's bed pressed against the windows. Smell the way it used to reek when Derek had just gotten done doing a million pull ups.

-

"Stiles? Why are you here?" Derek grunted. He was hanging from a metal bar on the wall.

Seriously? Did this guy do anything besides complain and work out? Stiles was seriously considering slipping him the number of a therapist. If there was ever somebody to need that..."Haven't seen you in a while, since all the Darach and alpha pack stuff. I wanted to make sure you're not dead. Given that you seemingly live in the 1800s and don't own a cellphone, I figured I'd swing by. It's still summer vacation so I don't have anything better to do," He joked, walking into the loft and flopping himself on the couch.

Derek rolled his eyes, "I have a phone." He walked over from where he was working out, and Stiles avoided the sight of abs glistening with sweat. Thankfully, Derek put on a shirt before he came to stand near Stiles.

"Oh, you never text me."

"I don't have your number. Also, why would I text you?" He asked like an insult.

"Fine dickwolf, I'll leave." Stiles sat up and headed back towards the door.

Derek huffed, "You don't have to. Uh... sorry."

Stiles was confused but just nodded. "I just, I know about uh Kate. And then for Ms.Blake- I mean Jennifer-Julia whatever to trick you like she did, it's awful. Then Boyd- and now Isaac lives with Scott. Cora left its just-Thats a lot in a row, dude. Are you okay?"

Derek looked absolutely dumbfounded. Like no one had ever asked him that before. Hell, maybe they hadn't. The wolf just nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, well, I know we bicker and you're not my biggest fan and all but I'm here if you need me. And I meant what I said that night. You shouldn't blame yourself."

"Why would you think that?" Derek snapped, defensive. Clearly Stiles hit a nerve.

"Dude, you just ooze survivor's guilt, you don't even try to be happy," Stiles retorted. Immediately regretting his words, flailing his hands like it could erase what he just said. "Wait- I'm sorry that came out wrong."

"Now you can go," Derek barked.

"I'm sorry, Derek. I just meant that literally like it's common, I get it." He reached out to try to comfort the man butDerek just started pushing Stiles toward the door.

Stiles raised his arms up, "Okay okay I'll go." The door slammed behind him, and he hit himself on the head.

"God, Stiles, you're such an idiot! Why can't you just say I'm here if you need anything then shut up! I just wanted to make sure he was alright, no one ever does!" He swore as he headed into the elevator and pressed the button. "Even Scott! I ask how Derek's doing and he's all 'why do you care'" he mimicked in a silly deep werewolf voice, "Like why does he need to know that? Can't I just want the guy to be happy and safe without it being weird? Ugh," He yelled at himself in a one way conversation all the way down to his Jeep.

Derek listened to the whole thing, and Stiles would never know but he teared up listening. He looked down from his balcony and watched the lights of Stiles' jeep down the road towards his house.

-

Stiles shook his head at the memory, guilt shaking him. He'd never gotten to apologize for that. He and Derek just moved on and then boom, the nogitsune situation. He needed to make it all up to Derek somehow. Then he turned to Peter, who was looking at him with incredible confusion on his face. Stiles took a deep breath.

He was confident and his voice was thick with determination, "You're gonna help me resurrect Derek."

Peter's smile dropped and his eyes opened wide.

Chapter 4: Bare Your Teeth

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter repeated.

"You and me are going to bring Derek back." Stiles parroted himself. "I think you owe me."

Peter rolled his eyes, "For the ghost riders?"

"Yes because if I didn't save you, you'd be stuck in limbo and no one would remember you that's definitely a good reason. But also you owe me because I work for the government and if you help me I will not report you to the IRS for faking your death. I assume dead men don't pay income tax, or any taxes for the record."

Peter sighed. "Fine. But I told you all when I came back, when I died I put preventive measures in place. Derek burnt to a crisp, nothing left of him but bone. I have no idea how to bring someone back like that."

"Allison had been dead for over a decade, Peter. And I just saw her today!" He growled. His teeth bared in rage, his skin breaking out in blush and sweat.

Peter smiled, "I think I like this side of you, Stiles. A lot," Peter stepped closer. "I'll try to help you, as best I can. But I can't promise this will be successful, and I definitely can't promise you aren't going to go crazy again."

Stiles grabbed Peter's collar, shoving him against the wall. "You will promise me you will treat this like you're the one who f*cking died. You will be just as dedicated. You will do everything you possibly can, and then more. We won't have a problem, then."

"Stiles, while I am going to say once again this attempt at domination is quite attractive, I want Derek back as well. You don't need to worry."

Stiles made a grossed out face and took his hands off of Peter's chest. He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid biting the skin completely raw and bloody. "I need him. And I won't stop until he is back."

"Need or love?" Peter asked, genuinely.

Stiles shot him a glare that really told Peter all he needed to know."I've been practicing my magic, but not much since I started working full time. I know the basics about protection, wards, finding spells, that kind of stuff. I need to know everything you know."

"So you think necromancy will be easy?"

"No but you did it, so how hard can it be?" Stiles asked bluntly.

"I had a banshee, and from what I recall that banshee refuses to be in the same room as you- isn't that right?"

Stiles groaned. "I just... I can't let Derek be dead. I just can't do it, Peter. I'll do anything it takes."

"Are you sure about that? People don't warn against messing with life and death for no reason. You may never be the same after this, it could taint your soul if you aren't careful. And right now you seem the furthest thing from stable."

"I. Don't. Care." Stiles deadpanned. And he didn't. He couldn't bring himself to care about nearly any consequence this could poison him with. He loved Derek, whether he was ready to admit it or not. Stiles never got to tell him that, and he never got to apologize. He'd spent the past ten years and barely saw the man, he wasn't there to save him like Derek was for him so many times. He would make it all up. He'd make sure Eli didn't grow up like Derek did, alone. Stiles would fix this f*cking mess he started. Starting with the nogitsune.

-

It would be a month before anyone heard from Stiles or Peter again. His dad was seriously considering that he was dead, and would've called the FBI if he hadn't visited him right before he left. That day he'd been... off. Not like he was at the service, no it was like he had just stopped mourning and now he was just... cold, and ready to flip the switch to rage at the littlest thing. He reminded John of himself, after Claudia passed. That thought scared him deeply. John nearly drank himself to death, he yelled at Stiles, he was a terrible dad for years. Seeing that reflection in his own son was enough to make him nauseous with worry. Stiles didn't love Derek, though, so John just chalked it up to him being mad he had no way to help any of them.

-

"Hey dad," Stiles said as he sauntered into their dining room. Melissa and Chris were there as well. He looked towards the living room and saw the picture of Derek framed with non toxic wolfsbane and baby's breath. It made his voice shake, "I'm gonna leave. I just thought I'd say I was sorry and I love you."

John got up and ran to hug his son, petting the back of his head like he used to when Stiles was little. "I'm so sorry kid. I know you cared about Derek. I just- we didn't want to mess up your normal life by dragging you here. Ya know Derek... he even told me to call you."

Stiles backed away. "What?"

John realized he probably shouldn't have said that, but it was too late now. "When it all started, he told me I should maybe call you. That you could help. I told him you were busy saving people. Which you were, you said you were in Kansas trying to catch some creep who's killing kids. That is equally as important and we're all so proud of you, Stiles. No one wanted you to have to give up your life."

"I should have been saving him, Dad!" Stiles shouted, no tears but all rasp and exhaustion.

"Um-"

Stiles whipped around to see... Eli. He immediately shut down. "Uh hey. Sorry, I'm uh-"

"Stiles, right?"

He nodded.

"Dad talked about you all the time, he always would ask 'how did I end up with two Stiles' in my life?' Referencing me, I guess," Eli laughed a bit, playing with the ends of his flannel awkwardly before shoving his fingers to nibble his nails. Just like Stiles.

"Yeah, uh, I've heard you like stealing my Jeep, and f*cking with Derek. Thanks for doin that, he needs-uh needed that in his life. He always takes things so seriously," Stiles smiled but the awkwardness was heavy in the room.

"You shouldn't be mad at Scott or your dad," Eli said, almost like a yell but not angrily, like he just spat it out by accident. Also like Stiles. "I just mean, it's not his fault. He didn't know bringing back Allison would make all this crazy stuff happen, also the nogitsune was already like trying to come back or whatever. My dad was trying to save me, save all of us, he sacrificed himself. He would've done the same for you, I'm sure. Like I said he talked about you all the time, even if it was complaining about you. But I could tell that he was worried I'd hurt the jeep because he knew it meant a lot to you. Like, just saying if it wasn't him it would've been all of us. That doesn't really make any of this easier, I know. But you shouldn't be mad at anyone but that f*ckin-I mean freaking, sorry sheriff, nogistune thing." Eli said, seemingly without taking a single breath.

Damn he rambled like Stiles too. It was annoying, and endearing. Is this how people felt about him?

"Eli, easy," John said.

Stiles looked at his dad, a weird jealousy spreading in his body. That's exactly how John talked to him when he was younger. "Um, no it's okay. No one told me what happened. I get it now. But I need space. I'm going to take some time off to uh heal."

Eli looked at him, confused. Stiles just prayed the kid didn't know how to tell if he was lying yet.

Melissa got up and ran to hug him, and Stiles just fell into her arms. She smelled like she always did, clean linen, coconut conditioner, and peony perfume. So familiar. So much like home. Stiles shed a tear as he buried his face into her dark curls, letting the older woman sway him a bit. It was unbelievably comforting. "Thanks, Love you," He smiled at her.

"Love you too, Stiles. Maybe you can come visit for longer when we all feel better."

Stiles nodded, "That would be nice." His dad hugged him next, complaining about only seeing Stiles under terrible circ*mstances. Stiles agreed with his dad and promised sometime soon they could just do something normal.

Stiles grabbed his bag and looked over at Chris, and motioned for him to walk outside with Stiles.

The older man looked puzzled but obliged.

"So, this is awkward but... Allison?"

Chris smiled wide, "I know. It's amazing. She uh, she doesn't remember a lot. But her memories are slowly coming back."

"How did that happen exactly?" Stiles asked.

"Scott and Lydia performed a ritual and brought her back to life but the nogitsune used all her bad memories to make her try to kill us."

"A ritual? If they knew how to do that why don't they bring back Derek?" Stiles pressed. He couldn't f*cking believe Scott.

Chris sighed, "Allison wasn't herself when she came back. It wasn't like with Peter. She was different. I think that we're all scared of the nogitsune coming back if Derek were to. Please don't tell me you're going to try something stupid, Stiles. He died a martyr, a hero. We all need to accept that it's what he would've wanted."

"Yeah of course... thanks for answering my questions, no one else wanted to."

Chris shot him an apologetic look, and gave him a half hug. "Take care, kid," he said before heading back into the house.

Stiles walked down the road further than his rental, after putting the keys inside the cup holder because someone would be by to pick it up in an hour. He felt so numb, like this all had to be some terrible nightmare. It wasn't. He knew he had ten fingers and ten toes and he read the words underneath the framed picture of Derek in his living room, "Derek Benjamin Hale. Father, Nephew, Brother, Hero." He didn't even have to fight his tears anymore. Stiles was pretty sure he didn't have any left to give. He just kept walking until he saw Peter's mustang down the road and rolled his eyes. So much for low profile. Peter rolled the window down, "Need a ride, pretty boy?"

"Please, enough with the flirting," Stiles groaned before sliding into the passenger seat. "I'm not in the mood."

Peter pouted for a second, then just laughed. "I know you're too busy trying to necromance your never-quite-lover back to life, but until then I will continue to try to win you over. I always liked you the most."

"Dude I'm the same age as your daughter. I literally dated your daughter. Malia. Also I helped killed you. Remember?"

"You're not dating her anymore. Also, I hold no grudge for my death since I'm all better now," Peter poked.

"Can we just go please? Did you get the rest of my stuff from the rental car? And all the books from the vault?" Stiles asked.

"Yes sir," Peter teased.

"Gross, Peter." Stiles leaned his head against the cold window, as they drove past his house he saw Eli's eyes meet his, obviously recognizing his great uncle's car. Great.

Chapter 5: Cinnamon and Whiskey

Chapter Text

Stiles and Peter spent a few weeks on the road, driving down south to gather the materials they'd need. California's redwoods turned to desert, then to mountains then back to desert as they went through Texas. Everything was red and orange and Stiles thought of Derek's eyes when he was an alpha. Peter told him that Derek's eyes turned red when he sacrificed himself. It made him smile a bit, but he realized quickly that Derek probably didn't even know that happened before he was dead.

At first, Stiles hated the whole thing. Peter was possibly the most annoying person on the planet if you had to be stuck in a car with him for hours on end. He listened to podcasts or classical music only and complained every single time Stiles put the music he liked on. But after too many cramped hotel rooms and shared meals, Stiles found himself starting to like the older man. Well, maybe not like, but tolerate and find vaguely amusing.

They worked well together, both smart and determined. Peter was better at manipulation, which proved helpful. It seemed that not many witches or emissaries were willing to sell necromantic herbs to just any vagrants passing through their towns. Peter being a Hale helped, and sometimes Peter flirting helped. Stiles mostly stuck to finding out what exactly it is they needed, and just how they needed to go about this. That and trying to not think about how when they got back to Beacon Hills, they were going to have to dig up Derek's bones. Apparently the first step would be bringing back his body. Then they had to figure out how to bring back his soul, and his wolf. That bit of the ritual was seemingly going to take a lot more than just some blood and plants.

"You know, Derek cares about you too," Peter said one night, completely unprompted. They had just reached Louisiana in hopes of finding their last few ingredients for the first part of the spell. Peter was walking out of the bathroom, shirtless but with silky pajama pants on, hair still damp from the shower. Stiles was pouring over a book from the Hale vault bound in a leather he didn't even want to ask the source of. Peter's comment made him snap his neck around, and his face turn beet red.

"You don't know that. Please, I know you like to be a dick but I don't want to think about that, okay?" Stiles said earnestly, looking at Peter with what he was sure was a pitiful expression.

"I do, actually, I was just planning on not telling you and hoping our road trip would make you fall in love with me," Peter joked.

Stiles shook his head and laughed, "Not gonna happen, dude." He turned back to his book, writing a new ingredient for their list, 'Mandrake' and crossing off the others they'd managed to find by now, belladonna, check, black henbane, check. Then, his mind caught up with the reality of Peter's confession. "Wait what do you mean?!" Stiles yelped, nearly falling out of his chair and onto the surely disgusting hotel carpet as he swung himself around.

Peter laughed and sat down on the corner of his bed. "Do you remember thanksgiving, the last one before you were gone for all those years?"

Stiles nodded. Of course he did. It was the only time he remembered being in Beacon Hills when nothing crazy was happening. Derek had just moved into his new house, and hosted the pack and their families, it was the first and last time Stiles was at the house Derek would end up sharing with his son. But as Stiles remembered it, Peter wasn't there, so what could he be talking about?

-

"Howdy y'all!" Stiles yelled as he opened Derek's door. He shook off his coat and hung it on the coat rack on the back of the door. California was oddly chilly that year, even if it was only November. Derek's house was nice, homey and warm. Still very minimal, like he was at the loft. But it looks softer, more comfortable. And there was furniture now, a TV, a couch- he could barely believe his eyes! No holes in the wall or anything!

"Stiles, hey!" Derek called from the kitchen.

Stiles smiled and nearly ran into the kitchen, following the sound of the older man's voice. Derek looked great, he'd clearly been baking because there was a faint dusting of flour on his cheekbone and beard. The sight was so domestic it made Stiles' stomach twist. He looked soft, like he had the last time they'd seen each other, when Stiles gave Derek his Jeep to watch over. But then, he still had grit and grease. Now he was all cleaned up for a holiday party, wearing a soft red sweater with thumb holes. Oh also, Derek was in an apron! And, shoving an almost done turkey back into the oven. "Nice apron, Betty Crocker." Not too long ago, Stiles would've been a laughing heap of bones on the floor at the sight of Derek in a thanksgiving themed apron that Stiles surely recognized as Melissa's. Now it just made him smile and giggle, in a sort of this is so weird but also so good for you way.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Thank you." He walked around the island and took off the apron, earning a 'BOOO' from Stiles.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was on the phone with work. I gotta flight out of here Saturday morning," Stiles said apologetically. Everyone else probably arrived hours ago. Stiles felt bad for always being the person to show up late or cancel, but he was flown around the country more than airplane peanuts at this point in his career.

Derek's seeming excitement faded to his new-normal stony but still kind disposition. "I thought your dad said you were staying for two weeks."

"Yeah, I know! I swear they just want us to never have normal lives," he laughed. "But duty calls. Don't worry though, I wouldn't miss a Derek Hale holiday party if I had any say in the matter!" Stiles smiled.

Derek nodded. "Um yeah no problem, also you're not late. Dinners almost ready, you should go see everyone, they're all in the dining room. I'll be in to eat in a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink?"

Stiles went up and gave Derek a quick hug, Derek didn't really respond, just made a weird noise so Stiles pulled away. The last time he'd seen Derek, they hugged goodbye. He just figured they were at the casual hugging point now. "Sorry, um, yeah a jack and co*ke?"

"You're lucky I have Chris over often, because I might actually have whisky." Derek turned away to go get Stiles the drink. Stiles was bombarded by a big hug from Scott and the rest of the guests soon after, all exchanging hugs and pleasantries. Stiles nearly began to follow them all back towards the dining room until he noticed Derek, facing away from the crowd and looking out the window above his kitchen sink. He walked over to his side, not close enough to for them to touch but closer than they usually were to each other. Derek slid him a glass.

"My, what a gracious host," Stiles chirped, taking a swig of the drink Derek made him. He swallowed it reluctantly and immediately cringed. "Phew! Damn Derek, heavy hand on the liquor," he laughed through his throat burning.

"Oh sh*t sorry, I don't really drink so..." Derek apologized, and it was odd. That kind of thing would have usually been met with a snarky remark or an eye roll back in the day.

Stiles laughed, and laughed. "I completely forgot. I haven't been around any were's, wolves or otherwise, in quite awhile. Just garden variety serial killers and creeps, sadly."

Derek laughed a bit back. "Want me to fix it?" He asked as he went to reach for the cup.

Stiles shook his head. "No I like it. I could use a chaser on the side though."

Derek smiled and handed him the rest of the co*ke he'd already opened for the mixed drink- if you could even call it that.

Stiles raised his glass at him, "To you, Derek, I'm so happy you're not living in a train car or somewhere with a huge hole in the wall and cement floors," he joked.

Derek nodded, raising his water class to clink with Stiles' drink. "Thanks."

-

"Yeah and then we all just ate dinner and I went to stay at my dad's house cause I was wasted, it was nice," Stiles said to Peter. "You weren't even there! It was just me, Scott, my dad, Melissa, Chris, and Malia."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You were late, and you left right after dinner, and you went home the next day," He said like that explained everything.

"And?" Stiles was so confused.

Peter sighed, and went to pull on his shirt. "And," he said with a mocking tone, "you told Derek you would be there for two weeks. And you weren't. I came over after everyone had left, just me and Derek. He was devastated." Peter remembered it all so clearly.

-

"Hello nephew, I see you had a party and didn't invite me, how nice," Peter said, strolling in and plopping down on the loveseat across from where Derek sat on the couch. It still smelled like cinnamon and turkey, but all the lights were off save for the small lamp in the living room where Derek sat.His nephew groaned, and grabbed for the cup in front of him and chugged it. Peter sniffed the air again and his eyes went wide. "Really, Derek, where did you even find wolfsbane liquor?"

"Vault."

"What happened?" Peter asked, genuinely a bit worried about his nephew.

Derek didn't say anything, just refilled his glass with the small, green-tinted bottle sitting on the coffee table.

Peter knew what that meant. "Stiles."

Derek shot him a dangerous look. But Peter could see the anger was all pain. He could see Derek's eyes were just slightly swollen, and healing back to their normal size quickly. He'd been crying.

"It's okay, Derek. I know what he is to you, and so would the rest of the mutts if you bothered to train them properly when they were puppies."

"He doesn't feel the same," Derek said bluntly. "I thought, maybe... last time I saw him he smelled me. But no, he's not even staying he's leaving in two days." Derek stood up and started pacing the room. It reminded Peter of how he was with Paige, all nerves and assuming the worst outcome. To be fair, that relationship did have the worst outcome possible but Peter wasn't going to bring that up right now.

"You didn't even tell him, Derek. I'm sure if you did he'd-"

"He'd what?!" Derek growled, "Leave the job he's worked towards his whole life? Leave the city he lives in across the country? Come back to the town that's almost killed him a hundred times and stay here at the auto shop with me?! If I loved him, I could never ask him to do that! It's pointless!" Derek snapped at his uncle, fangs peeking out behind his teeth. His eyes were nearly feral, and Peter was worried Derek would completely lose himself if he kept going down this path. Stronger wolves have failed to do what Derek was attempting, it went against every instinct of his wolf.

"Derek, you know as well as I do what happens if you don't claim him as your-"

"I don't care. I'll survive."

Peter stood up, weary of his nephew but still extending a hand to pat his back just twice. "You should tell him."

Derek looked at him, his mossy green eyes wet but he wouldn't dare let a tear fall. "I can't."

-

"Wha-"

"He was going to tell you. You and Lydia had broken up, you were older and he had loved you for years. But you came in, by his words, ready to leave to go back to DC and poking fun at him. Then you didn't visit him. Not once. Didn't even text him. That was the last time he saw you in person and it was ten years ago, Stiles. He thought there was no way you felt the same way. He moved on, well not romantically but he had Eli, and of course by some cosmic joke the kid is a spitting image of you. Derek loves him so much. But I think it kinda just hurt being around the kid for the first couple years, he was still upset about being rejected. But it was enough to keep him from losing control."

"I never rejected him!" Stiles yelped.

"He thought you did," Peter answered.

"Wait what do you mean lose control?"

Peter cringed. "Derek should be the one to explain that to you, he would never forgive me if I told you," Peter explained. "He probably won't even forgive me for telling you that he loved you."

Stiles was going to cry, and he did not want to let Peter see that happen. So he shoved his feet into sneakers and wrapped himself in his hoodie. Grabbed his gun and slid it in his waistband. "I need some air."

Chapter 6: Orange Haze

Chapter Text

Stiles had been uncharacteristically quiet since the conversation he and Peter had the previous night. He couldn't help it, this was all too much information. The last person he wanted to talk to about this was the only person he knew for thousands of miles. Peter may have his heart in the right place, telling Stiles that his feelings were reciprocated but honestly it just made him feel worse. Stiles was just starting to learn to deal with the fact that he was in love with Derek, the idea of him feeling the same but thinking Stiles hated him, or at the very least didn't love him the way Derek did, and shoving those feelings down for over a decade;that was downright heartbreaking. All because Stiles had been a dick when he saw him last. He groaned and shoved his head into his hands. He had no clue how he was going to make it up to Derek when they brought him back. What if Stiles hurt him too much? What if he wanted nothing to do with him now?

He looked up when he heard a door slam shut. Peter came out of the witches' house, shaking the bottle excitedly. He slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "Scratch mandrake off the list and let's get the hell out of here, they were trying to add sex magic to the total price which was already way too much for two plants."

Stiles scoffed, "You sure? Sounds like something you'd be into."

Peter drove off, laughing but never denying Stiles' remark.

-

Jimsonweed was the last herb they needed. Traditionally, it was used by shamans in northern Mexico, this would be the most difficult to acquire. Apparently the common version was plentiful, but the kind they needed had been selectively bred for thousands of years exclusively by these shamans. It would be twelve hours before they reached the nearest city. From there, they'd just have to pray that the locals would be helpful. Peter had no connections in Mexico, and Stiles was just hoping for a miracle as they drove south. He’d thought about reaching out to Cora, but he hadn’t checked his phone in weeks and he wasn’t going to start now. He and Peter had to do this alone or not at all. Involving anyone else would just make the whole thing messy.

The last time Stiles was there he met Derek’s full shift for the first time after he nearly died. Stiles remembered it well, how it felt like his feet were glued in the sand in front of Derek’s bleeding body. Derek begged him to go, to save Scott, but Stiles could barely pull himself away. They had a herd of people there to save the alpha, but only Braeden was there protecting Derek. Stiles only found the strength knowing she wouldn’t let Derek die if she could help it. He went to leave but couldn't help but turn back and look at the older werewolf. Stiles remembered thinking that might’ve been the last time he would see Derek alive. He was still beautiful, even with blood on his lips and face twisted in agony. It was terrifying, and maybe it was then that Stiles realized just how much he cared about Derek. It didn’t feel like a friend, it felt like how he felt when Lydia was in the hospital- when he didn’t know if she’d make it. He was scared sh*tless, both of losing him and of what the feeling of nausea and care building his gut might mean.

After that, Derek left with Braeden. Derek was always leaving back then. Maybe in some way Stiles was mad at him for always running off. Maybe that’s why he did the same. Maybe that’s why he never called or texted; he was angry because that’s how Derek treated him for years. Like he meant nothing to him one second, and then that he’d throw himself in front of a kanima for him the next. Thinking Derek hated him then being pulled into the most intimate hug. Being scared of Derek, then having him save his life. It was always back and forth from one extreme to the next. It was too confusing for Stiles to make sense of back then. Now, he just knew he loved Derek. All that hate and bickering was just… resentment and repression and care.

That’s all Stiles thought of as he and Peter crossed the border, headed towards Tamaulipas. He remembered him and Derek in the back of the van, training Liam to control his wolf. The way the orange light soaked his body, his eyes so green and tan skin glowing in the warm sun; his black hair looking almost brown. It was funny seeing Derek try to be paternal, teaching someone how to be calm when he was always angry. A pang of guilt hit Stiles when he realized he never got to see Derek be a dad to his actual son. He was probably a great dad, stern and protective but caring. That’s how he was with Liam and with Scott… well as caring as he could manage anyway.

-

Stiles and Peter reached the city by nightfall, and Peter had rented them a room at a hostel for the night. College kids were smoking and drinking out on the back porch and they could hear the sounds of insects chirping, car horns honking, music playing, and the kids chatting with each other. Stiles thought it was unusual, seeing as Peter tended to spend his wealth on nicer housing arrangements for the two of them but Stiles couldn’t care less. He jumped into the cot and tried to go to sleep.

Peter walked towards him, his movements stiff and almost nervous. “Stiles, there’s something we need to talk about," he started, looking around to make sure they were the only ones in the rather large room.

Stiles opened his eyes, worried. “What?”

“If we can get this, it's the last herb but there's more we need.”

“Yeah I know, we need to light the candles with hellhound fire cause we need a piece of something that killed him. We know a hellhound, and I’ll make Jordan do it.”

Peter laughed a bit, “I’m sure you will.” Peter had no doubt that the young man would be able to convince or force Parrish to do what he wanted, Stiles had really grown out of his clumsy awkwardness. He held himself differently, with more confidence. His old slouched posture now holding his head high, with his eyes focused and set, much like a wolf. Peter wouldn’t let himself entertain such a thought, though. Stiles as a wolf would be too beautiful. He was already fiercely loyal, deadly, and incredibly intelligent, Peter saw it when he offered him the bite all those years ago. He really was beginning to see how the man had such a hold on Derek all these years. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Stiles. We need Derek’s hair, his mother’s claws…”

“Both of which won’t be hard, you have Talia’s claws in the vault back home, and we can just sneak into Derek's house and find some hair off a shirt. Why are you bringing this up? We’ve already talked about this.” Stiles was confused, they’d written out the whole plan, those parts were literally the easiest things for the two men to retrieve once they got back to California.

Peter sighed and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed. He raked his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath before continuing, “We need Eli.”

Stiles sat up quickly. “What? Why? For what? No we don’t.”

“Blood.”

“We can’t make him do that. What if we get the body back and we can’t bring him back? The kid can’t go through that. I don’t want him knowing anything about this until we have Derek completely back and safe.”

Peter nodded, “I’d feel the same way but I was looking through the ritual and realized I translated it wrong for you. Part of a parent of the person you need back, part of himself, part of you- the person ressurecting him, ” he pointed towards Stiles, “and the blood of someone he loves.”

“We could use your blood…” Stiles looked up at him, amber eyes pleading.

While the sight was breathtaking, Peter looked away and scoffed, “Derek may like me more now but he only really loved you and Eli. We can't use your blood for two of the ingredients.”

“Maybe we could trick him. Get him to donate blood and steal the vial so we could keep him in the dark about this,” Stiles suggested.

“Werewolves don’t give blood at school drives, Stiles.”

“Then we knock him out?”

“How is that better than just telling him? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help bring his father back.”

Stiles groaned and turned away from the older wolf. “I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess. For now let's just focus on getting this damn weed.”

-

The next day they wandered into every tarot and crystal store in the city, met with nothing but hoaxes. Peter even tried just sniffing around hoping to catch a whiff of another werewolf, but it was all fruitless. So, they went to a bar late in the day. Stiles wanted nothing more than to get hammered and stop thinking about Derek for a second. So he had a tequila shot, then another, then a few more.

"You guys really can't get drunk, that's a damn shame, happy I'm human," Stiles said, still careful to keep his voice down so he whispered it into Peter's ear.

The younger man's lips were so close to Peter's skin it made the hair on his neck stand up. Peter pulled himself away, trying to put an end to the way their closeness made his heartbeat flutter. "There's special liquor, but we'd have to find wolves to find it," he answered in a hushed tone.

Stiles groaned loudly, "That blows."

Peter rubbed his face as he shook his head, "You're drunk."

"No, I'm just enjoying myself," Stiles hiccuped, motioning to the bartender for another shot. "I see why people speak highly about Mexican tequila, it tastes so much better than the cheap sh*t they have in the states. When I was in training, I went out one night and had like half this many shots and blacked out. They say its the sugar that gets ya', they're probably right but I like to think it's just less of the random chemicals we put in everything. I guess you guys don't really have to worry about stuff like that, in that way you're lucky. But the fact that you can't even feel any of this, that is not lucky," Stiles rambled.

"You're pretty, but very annoying," Peter said. Stiles' rant was long but it made the older wolf smile. It reminded him of the spastic teenager he thought of whenever Stiles was mentioned. It also reminded him of Eli, and made him feel guilty that he ran off. He wondered briefly if the kid cared that he was gone at all.

"Pretty?" Stiles repeated, confused.

"Yes, Stiles, you've always been pretty. Now you're pretty wasted, so let's get you back to the hostel, okay?"

"Noooo," the younger man cooed.

Peter ignored his cries and pulled out pesos from his wallet, handing them to the bartender and thanking her. He grabbed Stiles arm, not roughly but just yanked him to his feet and dragged him out of the establishment.

Together, they walked down the cobblestone streets, Peter buying the two of them some street food on the way home, hopefully to prevent Stiles from having too much of a hangover the next morning. Still, he tried to ignore the feelings stirring in his gut as he watched Stiles skip down the road ahead of him. He couldn't help but smile to himself, just happy to see the man not crying or pissed off for once this whole trip.

They got back to the hostel a few hours later and Peter turned in early, begging Stiles to go to sleep soon. He promised he would, just that he wanted to go outside for a few minutes.

Stiles went out to the back of the building, where a group of people were all hanging out. Stiles pulled a cigarette out from the pack he bought at the corner store, much to Peter's dismay. He slid it between his lips and walked over to the gathering. "Anyone have a light?"

A young woman quickly hopped over to him and handed him her lighter.

"Thanks."

"No problem," She batted her eyelashes at him. "I'm Kayla, What's your name?"

"Stiles." He replied bluntly, hoping she got the message. He couldn't be less interested in flirting right now.

"Stiles, that's really unique. I like it. You wanna come hangout with us?" She gestured towards the people all gathered around the campfire.

Normally, he would've denied, but he was drunk and lonely and thought it might be nice to be in a big group. Peter was good company, surprisingly enough. But he wasn't Derek, and he wasn't Scott either. Even if Stiles was mad at his friend, he loved him and missed how close they used to be- how close the entire pack used to be. Honestly, Stiles wasn't even sure who was pack and not anymore. There'd been so many people come and go, Stiles just felt that word meant nothing any more. That thought made his heart ache. All he wanted was for all of them to stay close and friends, and he was the one who left them all.

So he just sat with everyone and listened to their stories of travel and school and whatnot, it was simple and nice.

One of the college students ended up telling Stiles he'd gotten mushrooms from a shaman and was eagerly bragging about it to the group. Stiles doubted that heavily, as it sounds like something used to trick gringos into spending way too much for drugs. The kid had swore on his life there was an old woman who lived in the woods and grew 'all kinds of crazy sh*t'. So, Stiles played hippy and begged for the address claiming he needed it for his journey of ego death. The young man begrudgingly wrote down directions on a napkin and made Stiles swear not to tell anyone where he'd gotten them.

Stiles smiled with pride, happy to finally be of more help- since it was Peter's connections that allowed them to get the other three ingredients. He ran back to he and Peter's room and handed him the napkin, excitedly. "I got a lead."

Peter looked impressed, "Well let's get back on the road tomorrow morning."

Chapter 7: A Spark of Lightning

Chapter Text

They reached the village by mid day, and drove up a narrow dirt road to the shaman’s house. It was small and quaint. Made of reclaimed wood and swallowed with ivy and plants, the entire garden around it was full of beautiful flowers Stiles didn’t recognize. Birds were singing and bugs were chirping loudly, and hope swelled in the young man’s chest as he and Peter walked towards the door.

“Here goes nothin’,'' Stiles said as he knocked gently a few times.

No response.

He tried again before Peter just said loudly, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

“Back here!” A woman’s voice called out. Stiles and Peter exchanged curious looks but walked around the house to the back of the property. The entire land was engulfed in extravagant flora and succulents of all different kinds, and monarch butterflies fluttered through the hot summer breeze. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

There, hunched over picking weeds, was an old woman. She wore yellow elbow length gloves and a wide brim hat, her dark skin aged and freckled with sunspots. She would’ve looked like anyone's grandma if it wasn’t for the tattoos Stiles saw peeking from the gap between her t-shirt and the gloves, wrapping their way up her neck but stopping at her jawline. She put down her trowel and waved at them. Her eyes scrunching at the corners as she smiled.

“Hello,” he said as he approached her. Smiling wide to make sure she knew he wasn’t a threat of any kind. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Anam. And yours is Miecysław,” she said and Stiles’ knees buckled.

His face was beet red and his heart was pounding hard. “Uh- how did you? That’s um-What?”

She laughed, “If you prefer Stiles, that’s all good too.”

“How did you know my name?” Stiles asked and prayed Peter would never bring up this interaction in the future. His blood was running hot and he couldn't help but begin to breathe heavily and anxiously.

“I’ve been having dreams about you,” she answered, groaning as she tried to stand up. Stiles quickly extended his arm out to help the woman pull herself to her feet. “Gracias,” she thanked him.

“What dreams?” He pressed.

“We should probably go inside. The wolf stays out here though,” she said bluntly. Flicking her hand as if she was shooing Peter away.

Stiles looked at Peter, shock clear on his face. The wolf just rolled his eyes, “I’ll be in the car.”

Stiles followed her through the back door and into her kitchen. The ceilings were covered in hanging twine that held dozens of dried flowers and herbs. They were beautiful. The floor was painted tile, marked with sigils that Stiles had never seen before. Her stovetop was on and something was cooking, it smelled like vanilla and orange. As odd as it was, it was still incredibly welcoming and warm. In the corner of the room, he saw a fat orange cat licking his paw in a ray of sun from the window.

Anam sighed as she sat down at her dining table, it was small and wooden- covered in books. Stiles sat on the stool next to her.“You’ve been awful busy, haven’t you son?” She asked, and Stiles nodded. Anam rolled her chocolate eyes, smiling. “I know you’re starting your journey into the dead worlds. I’ve seen you.”

Stiles’ mouth was agape, “Uh, yeah. I need to.”

“Bringing back the man you love, it will be harder than you imagine. But I see you have been through far worse,” she leaned forward and touched her hand to Stiles’ chest, right on his heart. “Chaos was here once.”Stiles had no idea what to say, she was obviously psychic or maybe a banshee like Lydia. He, for once in his life, was just at a complete loss for words so he just nodded in agreement.“You fought it, and you have been trying to heal…my, you were dead once yourself? Taken to another place.” She said like she was asking him, but it felt more like she was recalling her own memories of it. It should’ve been creepy but Stiles could tell she meant no harm.

“Wild hunt,” Stiles answered. The woman had a look of fear but just nodded.

“You want the chamico, to bring back your wolf’s body?”

“Uh yeah? The jimsonweed,” he clarified. Unsure about the translation to Spanish.

“I can give it to you. But I must warn you about this path you’re heading down… you don’t come back from this.” Anam said it so clearly it was obvious she was speaking from experience.

“I know the risks,” Stiles reassured her. He knew this could damage his soul, open him back up to evil forces. But that didn’t matter, not if it meant saving Derek.

“You are more powerful than you know, child. You think you can only use magic in ways like a druid. That is not what you are.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, “No. I’m just human.”

Anam giggled, “Of course, but you are also a spark. I could feel you coming from a mile away.” She touched her hand to Stiles’ forehead. “It’s like lightning,” she said. “You must learn to control it, because if you go through with what you’re planning, you will ignite that spark and you won’t be able to hide from it anymore.”

“Spark… that’s what Deaton called it too.”

Anam smiled, “Sparks are rare, and because they need that jumpstart- that most people never experience, most of them have no clue its what they are at all. Just think they're jumpy and full of energy," she laughed.

Stiles' mind immediately jumped to the bottle of adderall in his suitcase a few yards away in Peter's car. "Oh... I've done something before, though. I laid a mountain ash ring without touching it."

"Impressive, but that's not enough to trigger your magic... a ritual like you're planning- now that will light your fire."

Stiles sat with the knowledge for a minute. If he did this, there was no more FBI, no more being normal. Maybe he'd end up like Anam, living in the woods casting spells. The thought immediately reminded him of his ex boyfriend. About how would go out to eat, watch movies, hang out and play video games. Domestic and casual and what everyone in the world thought they wanted. He had his dream job, he lived in a big city and went to museums and concerts. Yet, he daydreamed about Beacon Hills. About Derek's inky paws running through misty woods, his glowing ocean eyes, about the things Stiles saw that had been hidden from humans for time immemorial. He ached for it. He was haunted by it too. If Anam was right, the answer to his battle was clear. He wasn't normal, and forcing himself into the world of humans would always feel... wrong.

"That’s not all, though.” She shook her head, a look of sadness swallowing her previously gleeful grin as pulled a picture from her pocket. It was aged and torn on the edges, but it was a young woman holding a girl in her arms. The woman had tattoos, and Stiles realized it was Anam- she must've been about his age in the photo. The girl looked to be her daughter, about 6 or 7, hanging around her neck and sporting a big gap-toothed smile. Stiles looked back up at Anam, waiting for her to explain. She just sighed and tucked the photo back into her pocket. “I lost her when she was only a child, and I did everything you are trying and more to bring her back to me.” She gestured to a room behind her, “Here, I have brought back two others. They are alive today, and healthy. I thought I had nothing more to learn. I was arrogant and stubborn and short-sighted. I couldn’t get her back. She was already at peace… I tried to force her out. Now she’s stuck,” Anam’s voice broke and she began to cry. “I see her in the garden sometimes, and I hear her laugh at night.”

Stiles slid his hand out, open if she wanted to hold it. She smiled at him and laced their fingers together. “She’s not here but she’s not dead, either?” He asked.

Anam nodded, “I ruined her afterlife. I spend every day trying to find a way to let her go back to where she belongs. I haven’t found anything yet… It's been nearly 35 years.”

Stiles’ head dropped, “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It was my mistake. Not yours. But I must warn you about how this could end. Are you ready to take such a risk?” She asked, their eyes locked together.

Stiles paused for a moment, he knew his answer but now he was nervous. He'd thought of all the ways this could hurt him, but he hadn't let himself worry about how this could affect Derek. He thought of Derek, how simple it was for him to let himself be burned to save his son. Then Stiles thought of Eli, without his father and needing him. Stiles needed him too. “Yes.”

Anam looked back at him, unsure, but then stood up and walked into the back room. Stiles didn't ask where she was going, too distracted by all the thoughts racing through his mind, wondering if he could really trust what Anam was saying at all. His gut told him he could, and she came back a moment later with a mason jar. Inside was a green plant with a single white flower that's petals twisted in like a sun. She handed it to Stiles. “I must ask, you know you not only have to bring back his body, and his soul, but you must also bring back his wolf? Or he will be human.”

Stiles stood up, “I only have a ritual for body and soul, but it’ll have his moms claws, is that enough?”

Anam shook her head. “You don’t need a new ritual, I’ve been watching you and you are on the right path. But you must sacrifice a wolf, give its body to Derek before you give him the blood of a Hale. You need to do it when the moon is full, give your love every ounce of power you have and you can summon and out of this world. I don’t envy the position you’re in, Miec-Stiles,” she corrected.

Stiles quickly grabbed his wallet from his pocket and pulled out an old business card, scribbling his phone number on it. “I can’t thank you enough, Anam. Please reach out, I want to find a way to help your daughter.”

She grinned at him, moving her hand to cover the card and push it back towards Stiles. “People like us don’t need phones. All you have to do is find fresh water and call my name, I will hear you and you will hear me. Then we will see each other.” She laughed.

Stiles was confused but followed her directions and put his card back in his wallet. “We’ll help her cross over. I know a banshee, Lydia, I’m sure she could help. She’s done it before, well she brought Allison back from the in between, not sent her to rest.”

Anam’s eyes went wide, like she’d been shocked. “A banshee… of course.” Her lips pressed together and her eyes darted away from him, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Are you sure?”

Stiles smiled, “Yes, Anam, I swear. I owe you more than that for your help.”

“Worry about your wolf first, son. The sooner you bring him back, the better your chances.”

Stiles put the jar down on her table and extended his arms, offering a hug. Anam grinned and hugged him back. She was short and her head only reached to Stiles’ chest but she still rubbed his back like a mother would. She smelled like basil and cilantro and earth. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. It felt so maternal, and it reminded Stiles of his own mom. They parted and he took the plant back into his hands. She walked to grab something off a shelf in the hallway, and came back, extending her hand. A necklace.

"Oh, no I couldn't. You've already helped so much."

She shook her head and placed around Stiles' neck. "It's a milagro," she explained. "You need it for your mind as I know that's been taken from you before, so I've given you this one in the shape of a brain. It's made of antler, It will protect you."

Stiles thanked her, taking a second to look at the beautifully carved talisman before tucking it in to his shirt.

“Thank you, Stiles. You’ve given me hope… it’s more than I’ve had in decades. I wish you all the luck in the world. Now, Go get your wolf.”

He nodded and headed out the way he came in, through the garden and back to the road where Peter parked. More scared than ever, but more certain than before about going through with this. He feared what it meant to be a 'spark', he'd have to talk to Deaton about it when he returned to California. It'd take them about three days to get back to Beacon Hills. Though part of him couldn't wait, now that they had all their tools... it felt so soon.

-

"So how'd it go?" Peter asked as they began their long drive back to California. The windows were down, and the wind was whipping Stiles' grown out hair. He felt oddly calm, maybe it was knowing he was free from all these years of trying to be somebody he wasn't.

"Got the plant," he replied.

"Took that long for her to give it to you? She knew your name and you're telling me nothing else happened in there?" Peter pressed.

Stiles groaned, shoving the jar into his duffle bag before putting it in the backseat. "It was a lot..." he looked over at the older wolf, who just sat waiting for an explanation. He didn't want to talk about the spark stuff just yet, at least not until he found Obi-Wan-Never-Tell-Anyone-Anything-Kenobi (Deaton) when they got back. "She told me I need to sacrifice a live actual wolf or Derek won't come back a werewolf. Like, that's f*cking crazy, you didn't have to do that so why do I?"

"That is a lot," Peter joked. "But remember, I already had plans. You're trying to essentially reanimate Derek completely, it's just going to be different."

"Okay but where the hell are we going to get a live wolf?!" Stiles cried out.

"Do we need it for the first or second ritual?"

"Second, the wolf is part of the soul, I guess."

Peter hummed, "I think I can get one by then."

"Dude, Do I even want to know?"

"If you're worried about the ethics of acquiring an endangered animal, or the legality, I'd be worried given you are the one that's going to have to kill the thing."

The thought made Stiles' stomach twist, "I don't want to... but I have to," he explained. "Also... she told me if I'm not careful, Derek could get stuck. If he's already at peace. And I'm wondering if that risk is worth it."Peter laughed, and Stiles snapped his head. "What's funny about that?!"

"Derek can't be at peace in death when he wasn't at peace in life."

"What do you mean?"

"You, Stiles. He never had any closure. I would bet a million dollars that he's haunting the edge of the veil just waiting to see you again," Peter said. It was so sweet, it made Stiles wonder briefly if this was who Peter really was and all of the snark and violence was just a thick wall protecting himself. That's how Derek was.

"Is it bad if I say I hope you're right?"

"If we weren't planning on bringing him back, then yes. But because we are, I think you should hold onto that. He's right there, just out of our sight. We just have to reach in and pull him back."

Stiles nodded and let himself rest. They drove through forest and hills, music from the speakers filling the silence. They had a long way to go til they hit U.S soil, and there was so much Stiles had to think about. As he closed his eyes to rest, letting his head fall on the window, all he saw painting the backs of his eyes were butterflies, blue eyes, and the crinkled edges of an old photo.

Chapter 8: Moss and Lichen

Chapter Text

Three days and three sleepless nights later, the pair drove into Beacon Hills. It was already sunset once they made their way into the loft. Stiles crashed on the brown leather couch after placing his bags by the door.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower, I suggest you do the same once I'm done. You smell awful," Peter remarked, stretching out his back as he walked towards the bathroom.

Stiles was too tired to say anything snarky back, so he just grunted and kicked off his shoes.

In the shower, Peter couldn't help but let his mind wander to the man in his living room. f*cking Stiles, all long lean limbs and milky white skin. Kissed with those adorable moles and big Bambi eyes. So beautiful, so smart, and this new ferocity about him wasn't helping Peter's feelings at all. He really was the perfect match for Peter, he'd never found anyone that kept him on his toes like Stilinski did. At first, when he was teasing Stiles, it was just physical attraction. But now... after spending the past few weeks with him, he hated himself. He was really falling for the kid and he couldn't.

Still, Peter knew that the only reason Stiles was even around him was because he was on a mission to get his dead not-quite-lover back to the land of the living. He cursed himself. He didn't know how he let it get this far, but the dark part of his mind was begging him to do something to stop Stiles. Maybe then, they could be together. Stiles seemed to be warming up to him, they'd had a lot of fun on their days off on the road trip. Maybe there was a chance even if Derek did come back, that Stiles could chose him.

-

Stiles was nearly asleep when he saw Peter walking out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and his tan skin wet. He quickly adverted his eyes, sitting up and turning to grab his pajamas from his duffel bag.

"I put some clean pajamas in the bathroom for you," Peter said. "Toss all your stuff from the trip in the washing machine, I'll have them clean for you tomorrow."

"Oh you sure? Thanks," Stiles replied, groggy and exhausted. He walked into the steamy bathroom, locking the door behind him and jumping into the shower, hoping there was still hot water. He had to fight to not fall asleep under the warm spray of the shower head, but he cleaned himself with Peter's soaps and hair products as quickly as he could. It felt nice to be clean after being stuck in the car for so long. Once he slid on the pajamas Peter had leaned him, he ran back to the couch only to find Peter there, wrapped in a blanket. "Uh hello?"

"You can take my bed, I got sleep at the motel, you didn't."

"Nah man, that's too much I really don't mind the couch."

"Wasn't asking," Peter replied, closing his eyes. "Turn out the lights, would you?"

Stiles agreed, doing so before heading upstairs. He'd only been up here once before, when Derek lived here, he'd used it as a library and Peter's guest room. It was mostly empty back then, just a room with an old chair, bed, and shelves of novels and books.

-

"What's even upstairs anyway?" Stiles asked, he and Derek looking over the floor plans of the bank vault as they waited for Scott to arrive. Peter was sitting on the staircase.

"Just an extra room," Derek responded.

"It's where I stay when I'm in town," Peter added. "It's like Derek, terribly drab with no effort put in to make it welcoming whatsoever."

"Why are you always up there then?" Derek barked.

"Because you have all of the good books from the old house, and as much as I've considered just taking them, I know no one would bother to look through your dozens of penguin classics for anything important so I figure they're safe."

"You have a library?" Stiles asked. "With supernatural stuff?" He was excited by the idea. Save for the bestiary, Stiles hadn't been able to find many good sources on anything magical, werewolves or otherwise.

Derek nodded, not meeting Stiles' eyes, too focused on trying to figure out how they were going to save Boyd and Erica. "You can look up there if you want, but Scott will be here soon and we need to stay focused."

"Focus is my middle name!" Stiles joked, as they all were well aware of his ADHD. "I'll be quick!" Stiles promised, skipping over to the stairs and squeezing past Peter, hopping up til he reached the second floor.

Once he got up there, he was amazed at the books lining the shelves of all the walls save for the one with the bed by the windows. He walked along them, craning his head to read the sideways titles. Peter was right, it was mostly just classic novels, some historical fiction, that kind of stuff. It was weird, like he was seeing more of who Derek was when he wasn't acting like an ass and almost getting killed all the time. He was a nerd. Maybe in another life he would've been an English teacher. Stiles didn't let himself picture the handsome man with glasses and a tie on, nope that was not a productive use of his time. Not when they had plans to make, people to save.

Stiles stopped in his tracks when he reached a book with no title. It was leather and old. As he pulled it out, he realized it had the triskelion on it, and Stiles recognized it from Derek's tattoo. He traced the spiral with his finger for a moment before opening it to the first page.

"Put that back, please," Derek said, from the top of the stairs, making Stiles jump and almost drop the book.

"Jesus! Do you just like making me almost piss my pants!" the teen yelped.

Derek rolled his eyes, walking towards him and taking the book from out of Stiles' hands, quickly sliding it back into place.

"Sorry, I just saw the symbol and thought it might be about werewolves, there's still so much I don't know," Stiles apologized.

Derek sighed, turning towards him. "It's ok. Just personal."

Stiles knew that meant it was about Derek's family, so he didn't press for any more information. Just nodded.

"I'll find some books for you to read that aren't, but you have to read them here. I don't want you losing anything," Derek said surprising Stiles with the offer.

"Oh really? That'd be awesome! Thanks, Derek!" Stiles smiled, feeling more than accomplished that the older man wasn't seething with rage like he usually was when they were alone together. They both headed back downstairs, and as they did Scott came through the door.

-

The shelves of books were gone now, and Stiles wondered if they were in Derek's house. The windows were covered with heavy blackout curtains hung on golden rods, and the only remnant of the old room was the loveseat stuffed in the far corner near Peter's dresser. The floor was now covered in a tan, plush carpet, and Peter swapped the old bed out for a California king that took up almost the whole room. Stiles walked over to the bed and slid under the covers, the blankets were soft and silky and Stiles wondered briefly why the hell Peter let him have such a nice bed. The sheets and pillows smelled like lavender laundry detergent and Stiles fell asleep quickly, thinking of nothing at all.

The next day, Stiles woke to the scent of bacon, eggs, and fresh coffee. He quickly ran down the stairs to see Peter in the kitchen, a full breakfast already plated for Stiles, his adderall bottle taken out and placed next to a glass of water. "Uh this for me?" He asked, even though it was obvious given that Peter was currently finishing making his own plate.

"Yeah, figured you'd be hungry." Peter came around the island to sit at the stool to Stiles' left and Stiles followed suit, sitting down.

"Thanks, but I gotta ask... why are you being so nice to me?" It was one thing to offer the pajamas, another to offer the bed, but making Stiles breakfast? Going into his bag to pull out his medication so he didn't forget... that was something else. Not even Scott or Lydia did stuff like that.

Peter laughed, "Despite your preconceptions about me, I've always liked you, Stiles. I'm not a monster."

"I never said you were! Well, not recently... but there's a difference between 'not-monster' and like 'bed and breakfast host'," Stiles joked.

"I like taking care of people I care about, you wouldn't know that because I rarely care about anyone," Peter said, taking a bite of his eggs and washing it down with water.

"Oh... um thank you." Stiles ate his breakfast, the awkwardness still clinging to him. It had been a long time since anyone had done something nice for him just because. He'd been nonstop working and just surviving for years. And the fact that it was Peter who ended that pattern... it just made him feel uneasy. He tried not to look the gift horse in the mouth so to speak, but it felt so weird.

"I'm going to head to Derek's house to get some hair, and then the vault to get Talia's claws. Are you okay staying here or do you want to come?"

"If you don't mind going alone, it'd be nice to just chill and work through the plan, make sure I have everything in order for tomorrow night."

Peter nodded, taking their empty plates and putting them in the dishwasher. "I'll be a few hours, you're welcome to anything in the fridge. Try not to make a mess, though." He said as he grabbed his keys and headed out.

Stiles huffed and did the thing he'd been avoiding for weeks. He went over to his bag and grabbed his phone, plugging it in by the couch. Once it turned on, he cringed at the flurry of notifications.

FromScotty: Are you really not gonna say bye before you leave? I haven't seen you

I know I f*cked up, I should've told you what was going on but I didn't want to risk you getting possessed again

Allison is remembering you, she asked me last night if we ever kidnapped Jackson lol

Please text me dude I'm starting to get worried

From Lydia: You better not be doing something stupid, Stiles...

From Daddio:It's been a week kiddo when are you gonna tell me what the hell is going onwithyou?

Im worried, Stiles please give me a call when you can

Eli said you left with Peter, do I evenwant to ask why that is?

Called your boss and he said you're on a mandatory leave ofabsence... we need to talk.

From Isaac:You okay?You know, Ali didn't remember me at all either. It's weird... we were literallytogether before she died and now its likeI'm a stranger. I get how you feel. Let me know if you wanna talk.

Stiles sighed and clicked his Dad's contact, then the phone to call him. He may not want to tell him anything yet, but he felt bad about leaving his dad in the dark for this long. It only rung a few times before it picked up. "Stiles?" His dad asked, and the desperation in his tone made Stiles' guilt overcome him.

"Hey dad, sorry about not answering you. I've just been busy."

"Busy doing what, exactly? Cause I know you haven't been working..."

"Just trying to deal with all of this, I can explain it to you more when this is all over."

He heard his dad sigh loudly, "Okay but you can't hide from me forever, kid."

"I'm not really a kid, anymore."

The sheriff laughed, "You're always my kid, Stiles. Even if you're an adult and grown up, you're still my kid."

Stiles thought briefly of Anam and her daughter, "You're right. I'm sorry, and I'm okay I promise."

"Okay, well when you're done going through this, I'd like you to come stay with me and Melissa for a while."

"You and Melissa? I thought-"

"Her and Chris think it's weird to be together now that uh Allison is back... we aren't like that, though. She's just staying with me until she can find her own place."

"If she... didn't want to find somewhere else. You know I'm more than cool with that right? She's awesome and me and Scott could be real bros!"

"Yes, you've given me this pitch about a hundred times before, thank you."

Stiles laughed, "Okay. I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you, kid."

"Love you too, Dad." Stiles hung up the phone, feeling a bit of the anxiety in his gut settle.

-

That night, Stiles pulled up his black jeans, and a matching hoodie. The jeans didn’t really fit as he had to borrow them from Peter, he’d only had a few pairs of clothes since he’d left Kansas in such a hurry. The pants were a bit too big but he really didn’t want anyone seeing him digging up a grave and having to explain this to his bosses, or worse- his dad.

When he reached the preserve, he sighed as he tossed the shovel over his shoulder and climbed out of the car to go meet up with Peter by the trailhead that marked where the old driveway to the house used to be. Stiles tried to fight the tears burning in his throat, and silence his mind telling him how f*cked this all was. No matter how much he wanted Derek back, this part just felt too real- disturbing his place of rest and cutting into that scarred land another time. His footsteps were light and skittish on the dry grass and fallen leaves. Anam's voice echoed in his head 'this path you’re heading down… you don’t come back from this'.

Stiles’ pain must’ve been clear on his face, because the older wolf came out of the dark treeline and quickly took the shovel into his own hands.

“You don’t have to do this, I can just do it alone,” Peter offered.

Stiles nodded, “You can dig, but I wanna see him.”

Peter didn’t ask why, and for that Stiles was thankful. They both headed towards the family plot, which was apparently about a half mile from the ruins. Stiles was surprised he hadn’t known about it, but he never asked Derek about his family much. How could he?

Stiles was following Peter’s lead absentmindedly, just watching his boots hit the forest floor beneath him, maybe trying to avoid the sight of the place where he and Derek had spent so much time. Where he'd seen him for the very first time, tossing Scott's inhaler to him. While he was lost in thought, Peter’s arm extended out, close-lining Stiles and nearly knocking him on his ass. Before he even had the chance to yell, Peter’s hand was over his mouth and he set the shovel down against a tree quietly. Stiles' eyes went wide as he saw a figure kneeling in front of the gravestone.

It was quiet and Stiles could hear muffled cries. It was Eli.

The kid was on his knees, a few feet from his dad’s grave. Peter looked over at Stiles, eyebrows raised, as if asking what the hell should we do? Stiles pulled away and motioned for Peter to stay hidden. Then, he walked over towards the kid. Purposefully making more noise as he got closer and taking a big, deep breath to calm himself. The boy turned his head when Stiles’ foot snapped a fallen twig. He looked scared, his face stained with tears and flushed. He quickly wiped the snot dripping off his nose, and tried to stand up.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Stiles said, coming to sit next to him on the ground. Eli didn’t respond, just nodded. They sat there for a few minutes in silence. Stiles noted the simple headstone, just his name. It was very Derek, and it made Stiles smile softly. Stiles looked up at the sky, watching the moonlight dance on the tops of the leaves, wondering if Derek played in these woods when he was a kid. He looked and saw graves for Laura and Talia, surrounded by names he'd never heard Derek mention. There were so many, and they all had the same end date. Save for Laura and Derek.

“I thought you left,” Eli said, his voice raspy and cutting harshly into the quiet woods.

“I did… Just got back.”

“Why were you with Peter? I thought you guys didn’t like each other.”

“What would make you think that?” Stiles asked, avoiding the first half of the teen's question. They still needed some way to get Eli's blood, and that was becoming more and more pressing. Maybe Stiles could just...accidentally knick him.

“It’s Peter,” Eli joked. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good argument… but no. We didn’t used to be close at all but we’ve gotten to be good friends,” Stiles explained. Eli nodded. “Why are you here so late at night?”

“Why are you?”

“I didn’t go to the funeral, no one invited me,” Stiles responded honestly. “Are you okay? Well that’s dumb obviously this f*cking sucks, but how are you?”

Eli nodded, “I’m okay... staying with Scott and Allison, and I like them a lot but it’s just so different. Before, it was just me and Dad. It was usually quiet, now there’s always people around and watching over me all the time. Dad never had anyone over except Chris or Scott... and even then that was like once every couple a months.”

“Derek never liked company much, he barely tolerated me and Scott back in the day.”

Eli wiped the tears from his face, tracing his fingers through his hair to push it out of his face. “You really cared about my Dad didn’t you?”

Stiles felt guilt swell in his throat. He choked out his response, “Yes…But I don’t think he really knew that. I hadn’t seen him in so long… hadn’t even talked to him for like a year.”

“We fought a lot before… I feel terrible.” Eli groaned and began nibbling on his blunt fingernails anxiously.

“I get it. We used to fight a lot. Ya’ know, one time he slammed my head into a steering wheel," Stiles said, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the memory. “We were always arguing, but I think he secretly liked the drama.”

Eli laughed a bit back, “I don’t really get how you two were friends. Seems complicated.”

“It is complicated… it used to be. Now, I just realize we were both scared… we spent so long nearly being killed every other week. He went through so much. Derek didn’t like letting people in and honestly he had every right to have that fear. I kind of forced my way into his life. Didn’t give him much of a choice,” Stiles explained.

“I see why he liked you. Dad always pretended he wanted to be left alone but I think he was really just…lonely. It’s probably why he was so protective over me,” Eli admitted as he looked over at Stiles, smiling a bit.

Stiles smiled back and really studied the kid’s face for the first time. Taking notice of all of his features, searching for the man he loved in them. Eli didn’t look much like Derek at all, he was scrawny, his hair was brown, long and shaggy, his skin pale, but his eyes… they were so much like his dad’s; mossy green and gray like old lichen on the tops of trees. Stiles didn’t let himself stare. He’d see those eyes soon enough.

The oddly comfortable silence was quickly interrupted by the sound of an engine revving. Stiles immediately recognized it as Scott’s dirt bike. He cursed, “f*ck. Don’t tell Scott I was here, please. I’m not ready to talk to him.” The older man shot up to his feet, starting to walk away from the grave.

Eli nodded, “Yeah, man. No problem. You stay here!”

Stiles thanked him and watched as Eli ran away, stumbling over his feet and trying to prevent Scott from driving close enough to see Stiles.

Peter came out of the woods a minute after they heard the motorcycle head the opposite direction. “That was touching,” he snarked.

Stiles huffed, “Kinda forgot you were creeping around.”

“You were creeping with me, also did I hear you correctly? You think we’re good friends now, huh?” The wolf teased.

“Don’t let it go to your head, old man,” Stiles barked back, but grinned.

Peter lifted up the shovel and aimed it at the loose dirt in front of Derek’s headstone. “Let’s get this over with,” he declared.

Chapter 9: Lightning and Fire

Chapter Text

They came back to the loft covered in dirt, Stiles gripping tight to his chest the black bag that held Dereks bones. Like he was scared they would disappear if they left his hands for even a second. Peter tried to convince him to just leave them in the car but Stiles' deadly stare was enough to stop that idea. He was adamant about sleeping on the couch that night, and did so with the bag just on the floor in front of him, his hand dangling down to touch it.

Peter saw this after his shower, and a pang of hurt hit his chest seeing Stiles' devotion. He shook his head as he walked upstairs to his bedroom. The smell... it made his wolf stir beneath his skin. Stiles' scent, all smoke, summer rain, and honey was blended with Peter's so perfectly between the sheets. He couldn't help himself but shove his nose into the pillow and inhale. It made blood pool low in his body, and he wanted nothing more than to rub up against the blankets. He stopped himself, pulling away and going to open a window to air out the room. Stiles smelling like his pajamas was one thing, especially because he didn't really smell like Peter, just like his laundry but this... this would be too much for any wolf.

Peter sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair. He sighed as he pulled out a glass vial from his nightstand. Extending his claws and digging them into his wrist, letting it drip into the small bottle. He closed it up and set it back in the drawer. The wound on his wrist healed quickly. He raised his bloody claws to his mouth and licked them clean before falling into bed.

-

Stiles put everything in his duffle bag, Derek, all the herbs, Talia's claw, a small vial with a few of Derek's hairs, a silver blade, Stiles' written incantation for the spell, and then tightened the necklace Anam gave him around his neck to make sure it wouldn't fall. Just as he finished, Peter returned with the final ingredient they needed for the spell, just as the sun fully set around 8:45. From there they drove straight to the police station to get the final piece of the puzzle.“I got Eli's blood, with no help from you, I think I deserve to be part of the ritual," Peter said, wiggling a glass vial full of scarlet in front of Stiles. The younger man had suggested that Stiles be the one to perform it alone, and Peter just would stay behind and watch to make sure no one else came while it was happening. For some reason he was adamant about being involved in the process directly.

"I never asked you to do that alone," He retorted. Stiles had been thinking of a plan, but time was ticking. They had bones and bottles of herbs and knives in the back of the car, and they were parked in the police department guest parking spot. Needless to say, Stiles wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Well you didn't come to me with a plan," Peter quipped. "If we wanna do this tonight, we needed it."

Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling a cigarette from the pack and holding it up. “I’m not gonna ask how you got that. But I am gonna go ask Jordan to light this, then we are gonna carry it and make sure it stays lit until we get the candles set up, light the first with it, then the rest with the candle before. It all has the same source so I’m sure it’ll work.”

“This is asinine,” Peter retorted. “Why don’t we just cuff him and make him come with us. Less risky that way.”

“Yeah, because cuffing a police officer is less risky,” Stiles snarked, “This is our best shot to do this before anyone catches onto us.” He grabbed the pack of cigarettes and headed to the smoking area behind the sheriff’s station.

It was a little gazebo half in the woods, kind of nice except that it faced the dumpsters. Stiles sat there, in the light of the streetlamps, hoping Parrish would come out the back entrance. That was where his car was parked, anyway. Stiles tapped his foot rapidly against the wooden floor, constantly looking over to make sure no stray deputies wanted to look in Peter's trunk.

Stiles thought about how everyone would react to Derek being back. Of course they'd be happy, but they'd have questions. Stiles didn't want to have to answer those questions. There was no way for him to express why he did this without giving away the biggest reason. Stiles loved him. It felt so obvious now, with him being gone. Maybe Derek felt the same way when Stiles left for DC. He remembered the day he saw Derek at the raid.

-

Stiles heart was beating rapidly, he readjusted the straps to his kevlar vest about a hundred times as the van drove them over to the warehouse. All the other agents were discussing formations and tactics, but Stiles was completely zoned out. He hadn't recovered since he saw that video of Derek running through the woods on screen in class. It took about seventeen emails and two or three long rants to the overseer of the case to convince them to let Stiles tag along. He'd texted Derek about a hundred times with no reply, so he was going in blind. Worried to death they'd try to kill him, not that their bullets would do much but then that thought made him worry about Derek being experimented on in some weird CIA base.

His superior reminded him to stay behind everyone, but the second they broke the door down, Stiles ran off to the side, desperately hoping he'd find Derek before anyone else did. It wasn't barely thirty seconds before the gunfire started. Stiles ducked his head, running low and fast through the building. But he found him. Well, they found each other.

Derek ran straight towards him, and they knocked right into each other, nearly falling but Derek caught him. "Stiles?!" He yelled. He looked good, sporting his old leather jacket and boots.

"Sup, man? You're a suspect for murder, we gotta get you out of here and you have to learn how to use a phone," Stiles explained, grabbing Derek and trying to hide him behind his FBI vest so no one suspected anything. Luckily there were enough other people to distract them, and everyone was under the impression Stiles wasn't actively involved in anything happening, so if they saw him they'd just run by him.

Just as they neared the exit, A stray bullet ricocheted off the ceiling, shooting right through Stiles' pinky toe. "AH!" Stiles screamed out, collapsing to the floor.

Derek sighed and grabbed him, picking him up bridal style. "Never mention this," he grumbled as he lifted the younger man and carried him out. Stiles clung to him like a child, screaming and whining about his toe.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," Stiles cried, flailing before Derek tightened his grip.

"You'll be fine," he groaned, running as fast as he could away from the cop cars and through the woods.

Derek carried him off to the side and waited for the ambulance. "Why the hell are you here?" Derek snapped as he sat Stiles down, grabbing his ankle and beginning to leech the pain from the boy's injury.

"Saving you," Stiles said, flailing his arms above his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah you're doing a great job," Derek replied, rolling his eyes. The black veins on his arms still pulling.

"Good to see you, bud," Stiles smiled a bit. "But maybe you should leave me here and get far away, I've been trying to nudge them away from the idea that you're the one killing people around here so... you not being here would really help me clear you."

A look of appreciation spread across Derek's face, "How do you know I'm not?"

Stiles laughed, and Derek would never admit how much he had missed that sound, "You're not a killer, you don't even scare me anymore. I trust you," Stiles replied, wincing as Derek squeezed his foot, trying to stop the bleeding. "Do you think I'll lose my toe? Ugh that's so gnarly."

Derek smiled and shook his head, "The ambulance is about a minute away, I can hear the sirens. You'll be fine." He stood up and went to leave but Stiles grabbed his pant leg, pulling him back.

"Wait, here," Stiles handed Derek his phone. "Put your new number in, please."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you, you oblivious asshole," Stiles barked. He'd hoped him being shot was enough for Derek not to read into the red blush that covered his cheeks when Stiles admitted how he felt. Derek just nodded and typed his number.

"Thank you... for trying to help."

"Get outta here," Stiles shooed him away. "If anyone asks, I'll say I never saw ya'," he smiled and watched Derek shift into his wolf form. The creature coming up to him, nuzzling his head into Stiles' hand just for a moment, Stiles was confused but just scratched a bit behind the wolf's fluffy black ears. They looked at each other for a moment, like they just wanted to remember the other's face. Then, without warning, Derek just quicklyran off into the woods. It was so intimate, so unlike Derek. Like he had to be his wolf to even allow himself to show affection like that. The red and white lights of the ambulance cut through the trees and Stiles hobbled over into the parking lot.

-

It only took about twenty minutes after his shift ended for Jordan to come walking out, changed into his civilian garb. It was odd, Stiles really only ever saw him in his police uniform. He wasn’t sure he would’ve even recognized him if he wasn’t sitting here waiting for him. The older man took notice of Stiles immediately and jogged over.“Hey Stiles, I didn't know you were back in town... um, your dad isn’t working today,” Parrish said with a wave.

“Oh really? Damn I was hoping to catch him and take him out to eat,” Stiles lied.

“I’m sure he’s at the house, John doesn’t go out much,” Parrish laughed a bit.

“Good point. Um do you have a light?” Stiles asked, putting the cigarette between his lips. He didn’t have much time to waste. They only had two days before the full moon, apparently the ladder half of the resurrection was the one that should be reserved for the full moon ritual, this one could be performed any night. And tonight was the only night there was no sporting events or anything going on at the high school.As it turns out, reanimating a corpse with the flesh it used to be wrapped in was actually vastly more simple than bringing the soul and wolf back into it. Save for how long and far they had to travel, the ritual was pretty simple. Stiles and Peter just had to take Derek’s bones and take him to the place where he died. The issue was that Derek technically died in the middle of the Beacon Hills high school lacrosse field.

Parrish looked confused, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Don’t tell my dad, I don’t often… it’s just with Derek and everything-”

Jordan gave him an empathetic look, his forest green eyes widening, “Oh yeah yeah of course. But no I um I don't smoke either so I don’t have a lighter on me,” he said, apologetically.

Stiles smiled a bit, “Yeah you do.”

The officer’s eyebrows twisted in confusion before realizing Stiles was joking. He laughed a bit. “Oh yeah um… I guess I can light it for you.” He walked over, turning his head around to make sure no one could see. He stuck his pointer finger out and closed his eyes, then there it was; the fire. Only surrounding the finger he'd extended, apparently he'd gotten pretty good at controlling his power these past years.

It was small but it lit the cigarette quickly, he inhaled and blew out a puff. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Jordan answered, and the flame went out on his finger. “I’m um… I’m sorry about Derek, by the way.” He kicked his feet beneath him, shoving his hands into his hoodie awkwardly.

“It’s okay, not your fault.” Stiles was really tired of people telling him they were sorry. Especially when it was from the people who were there when Derek died, who could’ve tried to stop him.

Parrish had a guilty look on his face but nodded.

“You with Malia now?” Stiles asked, desperate to change the topic.

The older man laughed, “Uh maybe? Kind of. Can’t really tell with her.”

Stiles knew all about that. He and Malia weren’t together for that long, but she was always somehow impossible to read yet unable to lie. A weird juxtaposition that made you unsure of anything she said or did. “She likes you. Your head is still attached to your body, so I’m sure she likes you more than you think,” Stiles joked. Parrish smiled wide at the younger man’s words and blushed before they both said their goodbyes and headed off.

Stiles quickly jogged to Peter’s car and got in. Peter immediately recoiled, his face scrunching in disgust, “Gross, I don’t want the car to smell.”

Stiles groaned, “Priorities, dude, let's go we’re burning daylight… well hellhound light.”

Peter sighed and started the engine, pulled out of the parking lot and turned to head towards the highschool.

-

First, they needed to get back Derek’s body. Then they would worry about his soul. They waited in the parking lot til the middle of the night. Stiles had used his original cigarette to light several more with its ember until he was on the last one and it was almost midnight. Then, they got out and jogged over to the lacrosse field.

He pulled out the bag he'd kept Derek in, and began placinghis bones in the perfect order. Following a f*cking textbook Stiles had from his anatomy class and praying they got it all right. Peter brought the herbs, and Stiles the candles. They circled the body with the candles, placed them starting from the top down going counter clockwise. And lit them in the same order with the nearly burnt out cigarette flame from the hellhound that killed him. ‘Just have to turn back the clock’, that's what Peter said.

They scattered his bones with the dried black henbane, jimson weed, belladonna, and mandrake. “The earth brings back the body.” A piece of Derek’s hair they took from his pillow, a vial of Eli’s blood, the fresh blood cut from Stiles’ hand, and one of his mother’s claws. “The lost, the mother, the son, and the lover, to bring back the heart,” Stiles said softly as he placed them in the empty space where Derek’s heart cavity would be, letting his own blood drip on top of the bones, and doing the same with Eli’s.

He and Peter joined hands, and Stiles shot him a warning look when Peter rubbed Stiles’ thumb with his own. He gripped the older wolf’s hand hard. He took a shaky breath, and then began.

“Circa haec ossa adduceret carnes. Lupus et hom*o mixti sunt," Stiles felt electricity in his veins, like he'd eaten way more adderall than he was prescribed, "Ne a putredine et morbo." Heat was spreading through his body and he focused on memories of Derek, closing his eyes and seeing Derek floating to the bottom of a blue pool, drifting further and further away from Stiles. "Sanat omnia vulnera vetera,” He chanted, his voice coming out sounding deeper, he could've swore he'd seen lightning flash in the dark clouds above them. He focused, and saw Derek on the back of his eyelids and headed towards him, grabbing the wolf and swimming to the surface of his mind as he finished, “Vertere horologium,” he said with purpose and confidence as he finished.

The wind whipped and blew out all the candles counterclockwise. Peter didn't say anything, but as it happened, Stiles' eyes began to glow a stunning orange like that of a sunset. He was mesmerized.

Suddenly, like it was rising out the earth, Derek’s body formed around his bones. First the organs, then the twisting roads of his veins, the muscle wrapping it all, and the fat and skin. It was cold and unmoving, but it was there. As soon as it was, Stiles couldn't keep the tears from falling as he kneeled over the body, hugging the corpse and ignoring Peter’s burning gaze. He stroked Derek’s cheek with his finger, tracing the edge of his beard.

“It worked! Oh my god it worked!" He let his head fall onto Derek's cold chest, "Don’t worry, Der, I’ll bring you back,” he swore. “All of you.”

Chapter 10: Balance

Chapter Text

Derek lay unmoving on the cold steel operating table in Deaton’s office, like he was made of marble. Stiles was staring at him, looking at every inch- worried he'd find something that didn't look right. So scared he'd messed something up along the way. He found nothing, just the perfect curve of Derek's nose, the thick forest of his hair, the thick muscles of his arms and thighs. Pleased to see his abs had been filled in by just the smallest amount of fat, like he'd finally let himself rest.

Stiles and Peter stood in silence, awaiting the veterinarian’s arrival. Stiles was nibbling on the dead skin around his already blunt nails, licking up the little droplets of blood that collected.Then, the door swung open. Deaton barely looked shocked seeing Derek’s corpse or the presence of the other two men. He just hung his satchel up on the hook next to the door.

“Stiles, Peter, a rather odd duo… I see you’ve brought back Derek’s body, do I want to know why?” The doctor asked as he walked around the table, examining the previously dead man in front of him.

Stiles looked at Deaton and realized he’d barely aged, and wondered briefly if druidry extended your life span a bit. He looked pretty much exactly the same as he had nearly fifteen years ago when Stiles saw him last. The only difference was a little white hair in his goatee. Stiles sighed, “We’re bringing him back. We need your help.”

“How so?”

Peter rolled his eyes, and pointed to the corner where there was a kennel covered in a blue blanket. He walked over and pulled it off, revealing a sleeping gray wolf inside. He’d had it delivered here because it was an easy cover up, both he and Stiles drove straight over to the clinic after they got Derek’s body, luckily Peter’s contact arrived at the vet’s office only a few minutes before so they were able to bring everything inside without anyone seeing. “We have nowhere to keep Derek for now. Also, Stiles is adamant that he doesn’t want the wolf to be in pain before we have to kill the poor thing. Do you have enough ketamine to keep him dosed until tomorrow night, we’ll come and get them both before we do the final ritual?”

Deaton peered over to the floor, “Is that… an actual wolf?” He walked towards the crate and kneeled down, looking in skeptically.

“Obviously,” Peter answered.

“I can’t condone you two slaughtering this animal. Even if it is to bring back Derek,” he explained as he stood back up and faced them.

“I wish we didn’t have to,” Stiles started, “But if we don’t, Derek might lose his wolf. It’s a part of him… I couldn’t let that happen.”

“He already lost it, Stiles. He is dead. My first question should have been ‘why are you doing this, what makes you think you have even a fraction of the skill needed to perform such magic?’” Deaton snapped, showing more emotion that Stiles had ever seen him express. “Do you have any idea what you’re messing with here? My purpose is to keep this world balanced, and you are about to completely throw that balance out in your grief!”

“Maybe you could tell me why you never mentioned I had magical capabilities that far surpass your own! You told me I was a spark when I was sixteen; I thought you were just meaning metaphorical! But of course not, you only care to help Scott for whatever reason,” Stiles bit back. "Now, I'm told by a shaman that I'm capable of powerful magic, hm I wonder how helpful that would've been for all those years people were being killed! When my dad almost died! When Derek..."

Deaton sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you valued your humanity. I didn’t want to see you lose it, like Scott did. But now, I see you’ve made your own choice," his voice softer than it was before.

Stiles let his hands rest on the table where Derek laid, “I’m sorry for yelling. I just-It’s Derek… I can’t let him go.”

“Because you never had him?” Deaton suggested.

The implication, while on the nose, was surprising coming from Deaton. The guy barely knew Stiles or Derek well at all. So many people had been suggesting that to Stiles he was beginning to wonder if his feelings for the wolf were ever secret- if that box he shoved his gay thoughts into was actually made of glass. “Uh… yeah… I guess.” Deaton and Peter exchanged eye contact after Stiles’ confession, and it was so obvious Stiles was out of the loop about something. “Um, hello? Something you guys wanna share with Stiles?”

“Nothing you need to know now,” Deaton replied in his usual vagueness. “But…” he looked back at Peter, then at Derek, like whatever unsaid conversation the older men had somehow changed Deaton’s opinion. “Okay. This is beyond reckless but I’d rather assist you than you two do it alone.”

“Thank you, Alan,” Peter said with a sarcastic tone.

Just as Stiles and Peter were about to leave, the door swung open and Stiles yelped, trying to cover up Derek so no one saw him. He stopped halfway into the fruitless attempt when he recognized the fiery red haired girl in front of him. “Hey… Lydia,” he said awkwardly, head down like his shoes were suddenly the most interesting thing in a room with a live wolf and a dead werewolf.

“Jesus,” she swore at the sight in front of her as she came in and closed the door behind her, locking it.

“Long time no see…What's up?” Stiles asked, pretending as if there was nothing odd at all about the situation.

“I just… ended up here.” Her green eyes darted away, unable to make eye contact. Stiles felt a stab in his gut, remembering that she hadn’t really looked at him since they’d broken up all those years ago.

-

“I don’t have to explain, Stiles. I love you, but this-it just won’t work-it’s not working,” Lydia said, tears in her emerald eyes that wouldn’t look at him, only staring at her suitcases packed by her feet, a large overnight bag slung on her shoulder. Her pale hand on the doorknob, holding onto it like this was so urgent; like if she spent one more second around him, she’d die. She looked disheveled, more than she would normally ever if she knew she was going to leave the house. She was in short heels and a sundress but had an old snot-stained hoodie over top of it, her ginger hair in a messy bun, strands falling over her face, completely void of makeup.

“Lyds, please, I don’t understand,” he pleaded, walking towards her, “What happened? It’s all been so perfect, I know that I’ve been busy but once I’m finished interning, it won’t be anymore. I’ll have more time for us to do stuff together.” He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she flinched from his touch. He felt his heart shatter. Everything around him began to spin, nausea building in his stomach.

“It’s not that. It’s just us, Stiles. We were never going to work. We were stupid to try,” She said, as if she was forcing the words out of her throat against her will. She still wouldn't look at him.

“You just said you love me? How are you leaving?!” He shouted, emotion choking him. He hadn’t meant to yell, he was just so hurt and confused. They’d been together for a long time. They’d spent the literal day before this cuddled in bed all day, kissing and watching old movies. It was perfect, laying skin to skin, he’d never felt so connected with someone as he did with her. It was like they were one person, split into two. That was clearly something only felt by Stiles, and the knowledge that she was just pretending, at least in the last few weeks, killed him.

“I do love you, just… not like that anymore.”

Stiles just nodded, turning away so she didn’t see the tears on his face. “Okay. If you want to leave, then leave. I won’t stop you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

A moment of silence, hope building in his chest that she’d change her mind. Then the door creaked open and he heard Lydia’s heels clacking away, followed by the wheels of her suitcase rolling behind her before the door shut. And he was completely alone. He looked around their apartment, all the photos of them together, of them with the pack, her scented candles gracing the coffee table, all the blankets she'd picked out to match the throw pillows, a batman stuffed animal she'd bought him for his birthday. He screamed, grabbing the closest frame of the two of them when they'd driven up to Ocean City and threw it hard across the room, not even flinching as the glass shattered.

-

“Like you were already coming to talk to Dr.Deaton or…. ?” Stiles asked, cringing.

“Take a guess,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yikes.” That was concerning, given that Lydia only showed up when someone was dead, or about to die. Stiles was hoping for the first option, given Derek’s body.

“Well, are you going to explain?” She asked, it was clear she was talking to Stiles but instead she was looking right at Peter. "Is that a f*cking wolf?" She shook her head in disbelief and annoyance.

“We are gonna bring Derek back,” Stiles answered, pointing to him and Peter. "And yes... that is uh one of the things we need for the ritual."

“Since when are you two a ‘we’?” Her eyebrows scrunched.

“Since he asked for my help and the rest of you didn’t even try to comfort him,” Peter barked.

Lydia immediately caught the protectiveness… or possessiveness in Peter’s tone. It worried her. “Um… yeah. Sorry. I don’t really want anything to do with this, I assume I could sense that Derek was back and no one is at risk of being killed so I should leave,” she went to turn and open the door but Stiles ran out to stop her.

“Wait, Lydia, please don’t run off again,” Stiles begged. She froze at the implication. “I know you don’t wanna be around me, I know it's awkward and weird and upsetting. But I need your help. Only you can help me."

"Stiles, I can't-"

"No, not with this, not with Derek," He cut her off. "But something kind of related. Just this one thing and I promise you will never have to be in a room with me again,” he pleaded. He knew this was uncomfortable for Deaton and Peter, but he couldn’t be bothered. He made a promise to Anam.

“Okay what is it?” She asked, turning to look at him, for the first time in years- really look at him.

Stiles was surprised to find, though it hurt, it didn’t feel like he thought it would. She looked beautiful, her lips full and covered in shimmery gloss, her skin freckled from that Los Angeles sun she'd been baking in for the past few years, her hair faded to her natural strawberry blonde. Maybe it hurt less because now, more than ever, he knew she wasn’t the person he wanted to be with. He took a deep breath as he explained, “I made a friend in Mexico, named Anam, she's a shaman and a uh necromancer...But a resurrection went wrong, and the girl-she’s stuck between here and the afterlife. She’s been trying to help her cross for decades. I told her you might be able to help…”

“Why would I help a random woman get rid of a ghost?”

“It’s her daughter. And Anam is getting older. I can’t imagine the guilt she’d feel if she passed and never saved her kid... the guilt I'd feel if I could help her but didn't. She was so kind and she helped me get what I needed to save Derek, I have to help her." Stiles couldn't help the single tear from falling down his face. "I would volunteer to go with you but… I figure you don’t want that. I know how we can talk to her though, I think I know a way to help without having to go down to Mexico.”

Lydia nodded, her hand on her heart like she really felt Stiles' care. “Okay. I’ll do what I can but this happens the way I say, no surprises.”

“That’s the Lydia I remember! Thank you,” he smiled widely at her, thinking of how excited Anam would be when they contacted her.

“So that’s what took you so long at her house,” Peter remarked, leaning against the brick wall behind him, eyes half shut, clearly bored of the entire conversation.

“Her kid is stuck, Peter. If we can help, we have to,” Stiles explained.

“Can we focus on the task at hand? We have a wolf to drug, and I’m not talking about me,” the wolf laughed at his own joke andStiles laughed with him.

“I don’t think I approve of this friendship,” Lydia commented, crossing her arms over her chest.

Stiles did feel bad, Peter did literally torture Lydia and it was his demented fantasies that started the entire deadpool. But to Stiles, it really seemed like he’d changed, or at the very least he’d lost the zest for killing and being crazy. Maybe he was just getting older and didn’t care about anything that deeply anymore. He surely seemed to care for Stiles, he’d even admitted it to him that morning they ate breakfast together. Stiles also felt that Peter was realizing they could just be friends, he hadn’t been flirting with him or hitting on him as much. The younger man had even been picturing him, Eli, and Derek all hanging out like a family… The thought made him hopeful and excited. “I don’t care what you think,” he stated; a sentence that Stiles, for the entire first 25 years of his life couldn’t picture himself saying to the girl in front of him, it felt almost unnatural coming out of his mouth but he meant it. “Peter has been there for me the past few weeks, I care about him. I know he did some f*cked up sh*t, but we all have. He’s better now.” Stiles looked over towards the wolf, a goofy grin on his face. Peter’s look was unreadable. But he just extended an arm out to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder.

Lydia's eyes bugged out at Stiles’ words, and the affection the two men exchanged, but she just nodded. “Well… okay. Text me about the ghost stuff, I don’t like it but I know I um… owe you one,” she said, guilt clear in her words. She left, and Deaton walked behind her to close the door.

“Okay… I’ll take care of these two until sunset tomorrow, not a minute later. I do actually use this clinic for my job, as you all love to ignore,” Alan quipped. “Please go, I have some work to do.”

Chapter 11: Wolfsbane and Lilac

Chapter Text

“You care about me?” Peter teased as he and Stiles walked through the woods. He was eager to hear Stiles defend his name to Lydia, it honestly made him... rather aroused to see the young man so ruthless and certain about caring for him. It also made him anxious about how he'd deceived Stiles. It was too late to take that back now, though. They were already moving onto the next step, Peter could only hope that his rash decision didn't impact the outcome of the ritual; even if there was still a part of him that hoped it didn't work- that maybe he had a chance with the spark.

“Don’t read into it,” Stiles teased as he rubbed the sweat collecting on his forehead with the sleeve of his maroon hoodie.

“Hard not to when you defied the opinion of the Lydia Martin, whom you’ve practically worshiped since the day I met you.”

“I don’t worship her anymore, and she didn’t give me much of a choice in the matter… So, where is this garden anyway?” Stiles looked around, only met with the usual trees and ferns that painted the preserve in tan and green.

“Not a garden, more like a patch of land where I grow stuff I may need for protection. I don’t really upkeep it much.” Peter turned towards a tall knoll and gestured for Stiles to follow.

“That’s literally the exact definition of a garden, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Peter rolled his eyes. “And yeah okay, it's a garden. And it’s mine so don’t go dragging Lydia or anyone else back here.”

“If you didn’t notice, she’s not my biggest fan, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“What happened between you two anyway? You both left and were practically joint at the hip.”

“I honestly have no idea, she never really told me. Just said we didn’t work and then left,” Stiles admitted with a sigh. He leaned forward, grabbing onto a rock for support as he hauled himself up the hill, if you could even call it that- felt closer to a cliff than a hill.

“Her loss,” Peter said, in a joking tone but Stiles could tell he was being sincere.

“Thanks. Ugh, you couldn’t have planted necromantic plants and saved us a two week road trip?” Stiles groaned as he trudged up the steep incline that Peter had no difficulty jogging. He’d forgotten how annoying it was to try to keep up with werewolves all the time.

“I had no use for those, wolfsbane was all I needed. And we do need it now, so instead of complaining; how about you just say thank you?”

He was huffing for breath once they reached the clearing at the top. Stiles snorted, “Fair enough. Thank you, Peter,” he said with a curtsy, earning a chuckle from the older man. Stiles looked around, flicking the dirt off his pants and wondering how the hell no one knew this was up here. The climb was rough, that was probably enough to keep hikers away. Maybe he could help Peter ward this place once they got everything sorted. The garden was pretty; purple wolfsbane blooming from the ground, surrounded by other plants like nightshade and poppies that Peter must’ve planted; as well as native plants like irises and lilacs. Peter obviously did maintain it to a certain degree, as the garden in the middle seemed to be free of leaf litter, and only a few weeds. Also there was an iron chair, fairly new, resting by the side of a small waterfall where the creek began to flow down through the woods. The whole area probably stretched about two acres, from what he could see.

Stiles pulled out a small shovel and began to dig out the largest wolfsbane plant, popping it out and tugging gently on the roots, following the spiral through the soil for a minute until he reached the end. His fingers felt weird as he did so, like he could feel the roots breathing. It was freaky but he chalked it up to his ‘spark.’

“Beautiful,” Peter said, so softly and quietly Stiles barely heard him,

“I know, it’s pretty,” Stiles agreed, looking down at the lilac, velvety petals. “I never really noticed because I was always too worried about how it made all my friends hallucinate or try to kill themselves.”

“Not the wolfsbane, Stiles; your eyes,” the older wolf corrected. His gaze was locked on Stiles’, unmoving; his icy blue eyes staring straight through the younger man and into his soul.

Stiles’ cheeks turned cherry red with blush, as he stuttered out a “Huh?”

“Your eyes are glowing,” Peter explained. “Orange, almost gold” he specified.

Stiles looked back in shock, wishing he’d brought his phone to see his own reflection. Instead, he just ran over to the top waterfall and fell to his knees, looking down where the water pooled before it fell. He saw it, they weren’t yellow like Liam’s or fiery orange like Parrish- Peter was right, they were glittering gold. Like honey in the sunlight. It was something he never thought he’d see, he never wanted the bite so he never envisioned this. Just as he was about to turn away in disbelief, his own reflection was replaced by a familiar face, freckled and gazing up at him with a warm, loving look. “Anam?!” He asked cheerfully, though he was confused.

“I see your spark is being lit, Stiles,” She replied. “My, my, look at those eyes! Ticualnēzqui- means you are beautiful!” she translated, “How are you, Cariño?”

Stiles felt the tips of his ears heat up a bit at the term of endearment, he knew ‘Cariño’ meant sweetheart or honey, but the first word must’ve been Nahuatl or something similar, since he’d never heard it before. Nevertheless, he was flattered. “I’m well, things seem to be going as planned. How are you? I can’t believe this worked!” He laughed, relaxing onto the mossy ground. It was amazing, he could see her as if she was just floating in the river, but just her head. He wondered how he looked on her side of the water.

“It really is amazing, I haven’t had anyone to talk to like this in ages!” Then, she shrugged her shoulders, “Same as always. I’m glad to see you got home safe.”

“Thank you. I have good news, Anam. Lydia, the banshee, said she will help us.”

Anam’s eyes brightened at his words and her smile was wide and full of light. “Oh my… I can’t believe it!”

“Once I have Derek back, you’re the first person I’ll-uh..call?” He laughed, given that he wasn’t on the phone, just staring into murky water.

She giggled back. “Sounds like a plan, good luck with your wolf, child. You’re lucky I was down by my bird bath when you reached out! I am proud to help you on your journey.”

“I couldn’t thank you enough, and I’m excited to help you and your daughter.”

“Talk to you soon,” she promised.

“You too,” he waved at Anam and watched her face dissipate into the ripples of the water. Stiles hadn’t even realized Peter was standing right at his side until he turned away, and jumped a bit; surprised at their closeness. “Oh! Hey, sorry I had no idea that would happen,” he laughed awkwardly.

Peter helped him to his feet, “No problem, but we should get out of here, the sun is hanging low and we have to get to the clinic, then walk all the way to the nematon to set up.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, putting the wolfsbane carefully in his backpack before following Peter back down the hill. He began to rant as they got to the bottom of the hill, “I can’t believe my eyes- and Anam! How crazy is that! I swear I could feel the roots like breathing too! Isn’t that so weird… all of this is so freaky but for some reason I just feel excited about it all,” he beamed. Honestly, it felt natural. Weird, but just right... as if he'd been missing out on a part of his body and heart his whole life.

Peter debated if he should tell Stiles that this wasn’t the first time his eyes began to glow, but he decided against it. “I think you’re going to be a very powerful spark, Stiles. If you’d like, I could try to find you some books that might help, seeing as Deaton was about as helpful as a rock.”

“That’d be great, Peter, thanks.” Stiles leaned his head against the older man’s shoulder for a second, almost like a head-hug.

Peter just nodded and listened to Stiles ramble on as they hiked back to the parking lot. They made it to the car when they heard a familiar sound of an engine sputtering and gears shifting harshly. Stiles’ head whipped around as he saw his jeep barrelling down the main road. Instinctively, he ran out in front of it, waving his arms and shouting. Peter tried to stop him, but Stiles pushed him off. The jeep came to a halt and pulled into the parking lot next to Peter’s mustang.

Eli hopped out of the driver’s seat, of course, his head hung in embarrassment. “sh*t, I'm sorry, Stiles, I just-It’s a really fun car to drive!”

Stiles laughed, “No problem, bud, I totally get it. Your dad told me you were fond of it, But my dad told me you don’t even have your license yet… so maybe you should hand me the keys and I’ll take you home.”The kid agreed, pressing his lips together in discomfort. He walked over to Stiles and handed him the keys, Stiles gripped them tight and thought of when he handed those keys to Derek. Thought of the smell of motor oil and the warmth of the sunset.

Peter faked a cough and Stiles looked back at him, the wolf titled his head towards the sun and- f*ck, it was setting. “sh*t,” Stiles cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Eli probed. Looking back and forth between the two men eagerly.

Stiles and Peter shared anxious glances. Before Stiles could even think of a lie, the older man just shook his head and said, “Me and Stiles are trying to do something tonight that might bring your dad back, like Scott brought back Allison. But we have to do it soon and we don’t have time to take you all the way back to Scott’s apartment.” Peter swore thatStiles and Eli could’ve been the ones related in that moment, the way their jaws were both hung open in shock and their eyes opened wide as could be, babbling incoherently in confusion. Eli’s as to what Peter meant, Stiles’ as to why the hell Peter told Eli that so casually. The older wolf just sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose, “Stiles, he was gonna find out one way or another, this way he won’t freak out if he accidentally sees Derek. Eli, there’s no guarantee this is going to work, but we are going to try our best. We weren’t gonna tell you because we didn’t want to get your hopes up, but we need to leave here now and we’re running out of time. There’s a lot to do and honestly,” Peter looked back at Stiles, “He could help.”

“No,” Stiles demanded. He couldn't let Eli get hurt, he couldn't even imagine how f*cked up the kid would be if he had to see his dad in the state he was in now, half dead half alive. What if it didn't work? And Eli had to feel that pain of losing him all over again!

“Yes,” Eli yelled at the same time. He looked over at Stiles, angrier than the older man had ever seen him, “He’s my dad! If anyone should be there it’s me,” he growled, his eyes tinged yellow. “I know you say you care about him but I’ve never even met you until he was already gone!” His voice echoed with grief.

“We do not have the time to argue,” Peter yelled back. “I will go get Derek and the wolf, you two head to the nematon now and set up. I’ll bring them both to you!"

“How are you gonna do that, both of them together weigh over 300 pounds!” Stiles yelled, ignoring the hurt in his chest that Eli’s honestly caused.

“I’m a werewolf, also I have a car… which I will drive.”

“I don’t like this!” Stiles groaned.

“We don’t really have a choice, now get moving! It’ll be fine!” Peter ran to the driver’s side and sped off without another word, leaving Stiles in Eli in uncomfortable silence in the parking lot. Stiles didn't look over at the boy, just started walking back into the woods as Eli followed behind him.

Chapter 12: Scattered Light

Chapter Text

Looking at Derek’s body, non-breathing, as Peter and Eli placed Derek onto the stump of the nematon, Stiles’ throat swelled. Suddenly reminding him of every time he’d seen the wolf nearly die. In Mexico, in the pool, there were too many times to count. He recalled the hospital, where Derek lay passed out in the elevator, his tan skin nearly green in the fluorescence of the back up lights, the sound of thunder and rain shaking the foundation. ‘Derek, Derek, c’mon!’, he’d yelled, slapping Derek as hard as he could, Stiles’ voice hoarse with concern and fear. At that time, he’d felt like it was too soon. He and Derek were just starting to trust each other, Stiles learned about Paige, he’d seen how tragically Boyd died. Derek couldn’t die, it just couldn’t happen-Stiles would do anything to save him. Just how much he needed Derek to live scared him, he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. The relief when Derek stopped him was like heroin. The tension in his body melted and he felt his heart start beating again. His brown eyes meeting Derek’s, all those unsaid words of care and thanks. All his desperation withered away and it was just peace, as they lay crumpled on the cold hospital floor for just a moment, together.

The woods around Stiles were spinning, he was sure he could feel his spark- it was buzzing in his fingertips, running down his arms and into his chest, rumbling like thunder. He could feel the nematon, even with his eyes shut. He could feel it breathing, whispering to him. On the backs of his eyelids, he could see Derek, young and terrified with glowing blue eyes full of tears, a curled body covered in black blood in his arms. He saw the gored flesh of Ms.Blake, grasping at the root for a shred of life and leeching it from Paige. Then, there was Allison, fetal on top of the stump where Derek lay now, circled with streaks of firefly light. The visions of their bodies flickering back and forth. It wasn't like when he was possessed, these visions weren't fabricated, they were just... time spinning in front of him like a circle. He looked up and saw the ghost of the tree, its branches thick and wide, spreading out into a grove. A young man, with terractoa skin glowing in the scattered sunlight, smiling with a little girl by his side. They gathered fallen leaves under the shade, tucking them away in jars. "Alan! Look a butterfly!", she giggled. He put away the bottle and ran after her, laughing as she screeched. A tall woman with black hair and fawnish skin was watching them in the distance, rocking a green eyed baby boy in her arms. She played with his silky hair, and kissed his little forehead. "One day, all of this will be yours to protect, Der-bear," she smiled as his tiny hand squeezed her finger.

Stiles was crying when he finally felt grounded, the sun-soaked dream disappearing into this moonlit night, he looked and saw Peter's fingers laced with his own, squeezing his hand. A small nod that meant it was time to get started.

So, Stiles wrapped Derek in the roots of the wolfsbane, carefully twisting it around his legs, chest and head as Peter helped by lifting him up when needed. The woods were not quiet. They were loud, wind whipping the leaves and making them sing, he even heard crows calling out. The shadows of the branches moved in the wind, making the light strobe as Sitles began the ritual. Peter at his right, Eli on his left.

“Last chance to back out,” He joked as he pulled the obsidian blade Peter gave him.

“We’re with you,” they both swore.

Stiles nodded, and Peter grabbed the wolf, stirring slightly in its sleep. He held it up, and Stiles' breathing was shaky but he stabbed it quickly, pulling the blade across its neck as a single whimper escaped its throat. The thick blood looked black in the moonlight, it was almost beautiful as it drenched the bandages Derek was wrapped in, Peter moved it slightly to let it cover Derek’s lips before setting it down above the man’s head.

Stiles scattered dirt from the lacrosse field on top of Derek’s body. The spark moved Peter’s arm in front of Derek so he was kneeling above him. Using the same blade with the blood of the wolf coating it, he cut into the older man’s skin. He held it over Derek’s mouth and let it drip. This was to trigger Derek's healing, the presence of another werewolf's blood in his stomach would be enough.

Then it happened, the full moon shone down on them, Stiles’ was surprised to find it was a dark orange, nearly red, and the entire forest was drenched in a tone akin to dried blood. Stiles began chanting from his book, “Revertere ad me,” he begged, placing his hands outstretched onto Derek's chest, right above his heard. “Lux lunae. Ad nos redi." The buzzing in his body became deafening, and his body felt light, like a single strong gush of wind could send him flying into the air. "Annos meos tibi praebeo, quibuscumque opus est," he declared, and Eli's gasp let him know his eyes were surely glowing. "Per sanguinem lunam,” His voice shook but he continued, trying not to cry, and watched in awe as his veins began to glow from under his skin, so warm it felt like a campfire inside of him. His hands lit with an amber glow, and he watched as the light flowed into Derek's body. “Derek Benjamin Hale, revertere ad me!" He yelled, his voice sounding like the crack of a tree hit with lightning.

Fangs extended, sinking into Peter’s forearm, bleeding him. The older man growled but Eli held him firmly in place. Stiles couldn’t help the tears and laughter that escaped his mouth. “It worked! It worked!" He jumped up in glee.

Peter pulled away from the bite. Derek roared and ripped himself free from his wrap. He looked incredible, like a greek god birthed from the land, drenched in blood and dirt. He stood tall, and reminded Stiles of a mountain covered in fresh moss and ivy. Before Stiles could get a chance to celebrate, Derek's sun kissed skin turned immediately into the black fur of the beautiful wolf Stiles remembered. Relief washed over him, that Derek’s wolf had been brought back along with his human side.

“Dad!” Eli cried, running to the wolf. His father growled at him, lip curled and teeth bared and Eli flinched.

Peter held the kid behind him, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Stiles kneeled down, extending his hand, letting the wolf sniff his hand. As soon as he smelled Stiles, Derek was there again. Naked in the red moonlight, confused and scared; but he was there- alive.

“Stiles?” He looked at the younger man as if he'd seen a ghost.

“Derek!” Stiles rushed towards him, wrapping him in a hug. His sobs couldn’t be stopped, and Derek just held him. He smelled like earth and pine and blood but Stiles couldn’t care. He just let his forehead rest on Derek’s chest and squeezed him, like he was scared Derek would just dissipate into the air if he let him go.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked as he pulled away, still keeping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“You died, dad,” Eli said softly. He looked more like a child to Stiles than he had before, his head ducked nervously, his light eyes wide and pleading, knock-kneed and curling in on himself.

“Dad?” Derek asked, face pale and eyebrows twisted in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Peter cut in. His face was oddly calm given the situation.

Derek looked around, “Um… I guess thanksgiving? When you visited,” he gestured towards Stiles.

Stiles' heart dropped. f*ck. What had he done wrong? “Derek I haven’t visited since before you found Eli,” he answered as gently as he could. “It’s been like over ten years,” Stiles clarified.

“What are you talking about?” Derek snapped, stepping back even further from the group. His heart dropping into his stomach like an anvil.

“You died, Dad…” Eli repeated, the hurt so clear in his voice it made Stiles’ heart ache. The boy was clearly using every ounce of strength he had not to cry.

Stiles looked at Derek, and maybe it was selfish but he ran into his arms again. Derek seemed shocked but let himself be hugged. “I’m so sorry, Derek. I’m so f*cking sorry I wasn’t here. But I got you back, I don’t know what went wrong but everything else we can fix I promise,” Stiles word-vomited into Derek’s chest.

Derek took a step back, tears building in his eyes like nearly overflowing pools but they didn’t fall. “I remember…you leaving.”

“I’m not gonna leave again, Der,” Stiles promised. “Never again, I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles hoped he hadn’t said too much, but the words just flew out of him because he was telling the truth. He’d lost so much time he could’ve had with Derek, he’d be damned if he didn’t spend the rest of his life trying to make up for the hurt he caused, for the love he’d lost.

Derek looked over at his uncle, “Peter…?” he asked with an accusatory tone.

“I didn’t tell him anything, Derek. He came to me on his own when he found out you were gone. Glad to have you back, and you’re welcome, by the way,” Peter quipped. “And to answer your question, you sacrificed yourself to kill the nogitsune, because you’ve always been cursed with the heart of a martyr and I'm more than glad that isn't genetic,” he joked.

The other wolf looked confused, but that was immediately replaced with anger. “Why would you bring me back?!” Derek growled. His eyes darted to all the men around him, like a scared kid. He took a step closer to Stiles, eyebrows pressed together, sweat building on his skin. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is!” he yelled, fangs extended and slipping from between his lips. “You could’ve died!”

“You were dead! I couldn’t just let that happen, you had a son, you finally were happy, and there was so much I never told you!” Stiles explained through tears. “You died and no one f*cking told me! I had to find out on the news! I came here and no one wanted me at your funeral! I was so pissed I couldn’t even see straight! My dad had to stop me from beating the sh*t out of Scott! No one thought I cared! And I…” Stiles cut himself off before he said something he’d regret; Now wasn’t the time for this conversation. “I cared. I do care. I couldn’t let myself just sit while you rotted without at least trying to make this right!” Stiles’ honey eyes were pouring tears, crystalline in the light. “I couldn't do this without you, Derek! You’re the only one I-I couldn’t lose you..please don’t blame me for that! I know you never think you deserve to be saved but I would rather take your place than let you die!” Stiles’ high energy fell when it was clear to everyone how he felt. Stiles was stuffed full of elation and regret, the feelings turning sour in his stomach. Derek never thought himself worthy of being saved, he’d probably always figured he’d die to protect someone else. He was the only one who didn’t see how amazing he was. Stiles loved him, martyrdom and all, and he wanted to tell him more than anything. But he swallowed the words fighting their way out, and just wiped the tears from his eyes.

Derek shook his head, saying nothing in that moment when all the other men were clinging to his every word. His skin turned back to inky fur and he ran off into the woods without explanation. Stiles watched the creature until it disappeared into the darkness.

Eli collapsed to his knees and Stiles ran to comfort him. He fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around the shaking child. Stiles just rubbed one hand on his shaggy hair, gently rocking him back and forth with the other. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. Allison didn’t remember everything, maybe he just needs time.”

Eli nodded but kept crying into Stiles’ arms. They sat there for a few minutes, and Stiles could hear Peter shoveling dirt to bury the wolf in the woods. The older man didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but it felt like the right thing to do. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Eli’s head. “I lost my mom when I was little… she had a kind of dementia… she didn’t remember me at all in that last year, she thought I was-” he choked, calming himself with a deep breath, “She thought I was killing her. It hurt more than anything, her looking at me like I was a stranger. I won't let that happen.” Eli cried harder, and Peter came back covered in dirt, looking at him as if saying ‘why the hell would you bring that up?’ Stiles continued, “That’s not how this is, we just messed up something, or it’s like Allison… this isn’t permanent, Eli. I’ll do whatever it takes to make him remember you.”

"Oh great," Peter sighed. Stiles looked up at the wolf's words and his eyes bugged out.

"Heyyy.... guys," Stiles said, cringing.

Chapter 13: Blood Moon

Chapter Text

Derek ran through the dark woods, darting between the trees, jumping over fallen trees and roots. He ran til his paws ached and he couldn’t make it any further and collapsed by the ruins of his old home, panting as he lay on the dirt and folded his legs under his body. He couldn’t see the red hue of the moon in his shifted state, so to him it looked pale and gray, the light splattered over the grass, still warm from baking in the summer sun.

The last thing he remembered, he was curled up in bed nursing wolfsbane laced absinthe for the fourth day in a row, a pain in his chest so tight and sharp it felt like a silver blade twisting in his heart. The clouds hung heavy and poured rain for the first time in weeks in California. Curtains drawn shut, front door locked.

He'd walked to the fridge, hunger completely void from his body. He saw leftovers from the holiday; pumpkin pie, turkey, and mashed potatoes. Visions of Stiles, his whisky laugh and the corners of his lips stained orange from dessert. Derek grabbed the pie tray and threw it as hard as he could, glass shattering on the tile. His fangs slipped out, ripping into his bottom lip as he roared. He stumbled back into his bed, downing the green liquid until he fell into a dreamless sleep. He’d felt more alone than ever the day after thanksgiving…like the rest of Derek's life just waved goodbye and drove off with his heart in the backseat.

Then, all of the sudden he was in the woods. Stiles, Peter, and that kid staring at him with some terrifying blend of excitement, awe and horror. Was it really his child? He couldn’t be… Derek hadn’t been with anyone like that since Braeden and he knew better than to try to love someone when his wolf had claimed someone else… Stiles. Peter knew it, and that night he’d looked at Derek with such pity. He didn’t leave his house all those days, didn’t even make it out to the shop to work. He’d felt like a walking corpse, just floating from one room to the other, one day to the next. For a wolf to have a true mate… it was so rare. His uncle harassed him, knowing what would happen if he didn’t act on his feelings. He was right. Derek’s wolf became harder and harder to access. For those days, he couldn’t full shift at all. His body prevented him, worried if he transformed, became one with his wolf, it would hurt too much. Derek might get stuck- like Malia did.

Now, he was comfortable in this form. Something had to have changed that he just didn’t remember, like Peter and Stiles were trying to tell him. He just couldn’t bear the thought that it might be true. He stood up, arching his back before trotting to the back of the property. He smelled something odd, and found himself at the family grave plot. He raised his snout, realizing the smell he’d caught was Stiles’ usual adderall, thunderstorms, and fresh apples. But it wasn’t right-it was too much like Peter, tainted with iron, tobacco, and eucalyptus body wash. That thought sent fear running through him and he realized the source; an overturned grave with a headstone reading ‘Derek Benjamin Hale’. There was nobody in it, just the smell of a pine casket and a hint of smoke.

Derek didn't know how to feel, he couldn't believe any of them would lie about Eli being his kid. But it had to be true. He'd seen Stiles, and he was older than Derek remembered; clad in all black with blood on his hands; it was clear time had passed. In Derek's memories, Stiles is still so youthful. Not put together and strong like he is now. No, he is gangly and uncoordinated, jumping at every loud sound and cracking jokes at inappropriate moments. He's goofy and sarcastic, even after everything he'd been through. He still needed protection. Despite all this confusion, despite his heartbreak, Derek knew he would still put himself in front of Argent’s gun, in front of the kanima, he’d save Stiles a hundred times and never expect anything in return. Derek would die over and over to make sure Stiles was safe; to keep his skin milky soft and his big doe eyes void of tears, and let him keep buzzing with life and joy. Now, it seemed like he'd died anyway. And Stiles wasn't the same elvish, scatter-brained kid with two left feet he was when Derek saw him last. Now he was a man, beautiful still- his waifish limbs filled out with lean muscle, the creamy skin of his face marked with just the littlest bit of stubble, even physicality aside, he just seemed... different. If they were telling the truth, it had been over a decade, maybe it was naive to think Stiles would never grow out of his quirks. But Derek was mourning that time lost, wondering if it would even be worth it to remember all those years between.

It had to be, he thought- cutting off his despair over his mate. Because he remembered the kid, eyes like Derek's and full of tears. The way his voice cracked on the word 'Dad'. The boy looked so hopeful, his hand reaching out towards Derek's wolf form. Guilt and shame poured through his veins, cold as ice when he remembered the way he snarled. He was just so confused, like he'd been woken up from a deep deep sleep. Groggy and scared from nightmares he couldn't recall.

He huffed, and started running through the preserve, to his house. He ran past the nematon, and fought the urge to follow Stiles' scent. No, he headed home and hoped he would feel just a little better if he could sleep in his own bed.

-

“Stiles, what the f*ck is this?” Isaac asked, ocean eyes wide and scared. His blonde hair was grown out almost to his shoulders, the curls falling over his face, the red moonlight on top of them casting half circle shadows on his cheeks.

“Uh…kind of hard to explain,” Stiles said, wiping the snot from his nose as he stood on weak legs. He leaned over to help Eli, but Scott ran next to him, grabbing the kid and pulling him over between Scott and Allison. The implication made Stiles’ stomach fill with guilt. Eli didn’t fight being manhandled, just leaned his head into Allison’s arms and let her hug him.

“Well you better start explaining,” Scott barked, eyes flickering red at the command.

The order sent Stiles reeling, the knowledge he’d f*cked this up for Derek and Eli already had him on edge. “You don’t tell me what to do anymore! I’m not in any pack you’re a part of since you all let Derek die, since you all didn’t tell me sh*t!” he growled. “All I’m doing is trying to fix what you all ruined!”

Scott, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Deaton, and Cora all took a step back, almost in fear.

Peter stepped closer to Stiles, putting himself between them. His smile was enough to tell Stiles it was happening again, he immediately turned his away so Scott couldn’t see his eyes. Peter placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was surprisingly comforting. Stiles didn't fight it, just bit his lip hard trying to calm the anger he felt, the grief and guilt, wishing more than anything he could just be left alone.

“You’re a werewolf now? When the hell did that happen?!” Lydia asked Stiles, but her gaze was fiercely directed at Peter, like she was accusing him.

“Not a wolf,” Stiles answered bluntly. He immediately became aware of just how scary this probably looked to all of them. Stiles covered in blood up to his elbows, eyes glowing gold, standing next to Peter with fierce allegiance, a blade and dried poisionous flowers all laid out on top of the nematon... he probably looked like Jennifer. The thought made his skin break out in goosebumps.

“You’re not Stiles,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I should’ve known at the funeral… my best friend would never blame me like you did, he’d never hurt me!” His claws extended and he stood a step forward in front of Allison and Eli, shielding them.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at that, even though the suggestion felt like a bullet to his gut. “Really? We’re doing this again?! Did you learn nothing after the whole Theo f*ck around?! I’m me! I’m just not f*cking perfect like you expect everyone to be! And I brought Derek back without any help from you guys! I did! And I’m gonna make this all right!” Peter's hand slipped from his shoulder and he extended his own claws, growling protectively through his fangs at Scott.

“The Stiles I know is human!” Scott yelled back.

“I am human, I’m just-”

“He’s more powerful than any of you!” Peter snapped, cutting Stiles off. “He’s a f*cking spark,” Peter said with an uneasy laugh, “You should’ve seen him! It was beautiful, it was f*cking amazing! He’s using his powers to help people, which is exactly what all of you do,” Peter pointed at the group. “Deaton knew it all along and he didn’t tell Stiles because he’s scared his position under the true alpha,” Peter mocked, “would be jeopardized.”

“Derek’s back?” Cora asked, her calm tone cutting through all the yelling.

Stiles just nodded. “He ran off after he realized…”

“Spark?” Isaac questioned.

“I don’t really know what it means yet,” Stiles replied honestly.

“It’s whatever you think a witch or druid is, times ten,” Peter joked. “Magic runs through his veins like light, there’s fire in him, it's what makes his eyes glow. Nothing made him this way except for all of you to stop getting in the way of how strong he is. Of what he can do without having to be your little pet human,” he spat at Scott.

“Okay let's just put all the claws and yelling away,” Lydia cut in, waving her hands and walking to the space between them. “Please.”

“Why are you guys even here?” Peter asked, shifting back to human before turning away and packing up the blade, and bandages into Stiles’ backpack.

“Eli never came home, Peter’s car and the jeep are in the parking lot, it wasn't hard to figure out he was with you guys,” Scott explained, letting his claws sink back into his nail beds. “I can’t believe you two would ask him to be a part of this.”

“They didn’t,” Eli explained, pulling away from Allison. “I showed up, they had no time to take me home.”

“Scott,” Stiles started, shaking the nerves from his arms, “I’m sorry for yelling I just… I’m mad… mostly at myself for not being here all these years. I didn’t feel wanted or needed. Derek, him being gone… I couldn’t take it.” Stiles was expecting them to ask why he cared so much, but they all just looked at him with pity in their eyes. It made him feel like a kid, the way everyone flinched around him for months after his mom died. He wondered if Eli felt the same. The entire atmosphere around them calmed, as the moon's shade turned from ruby to its usual cold blue.

The pack promised this wouldn't be the last conversation, and headed off with Eli, leaving Stiles and Peter alone in the dark woods. Stiles finally let himself cry, and he fell into Peter's chest.

Chapter 14: Picture Frames

Chapter Text

Derek slid through the screen door on the back porch of his house, and it slammed as he made his way inside, happy he didn’t have to shift back to open any locks. He padded through the kitchen and living room, it looked similar to how he’d remembered but there was just more… life. It wasn’t just the bare essentials like he usually lived. No, there were throw pillows and blankets on the couch, candles on the coffee table next to vases full of dead wildflowers, scratches and dents in the walls. It looked lived in and abandoned at the same time.

He headed down the hallway, looking at the walls as he noticed framed photos. A picture of him and Laura from their first Christmas in New York, an old polaroid photo of his mom and dad, one of all his siblings piled up on their moms bed- with goofy grins and their pajamas on. These things he’d kept hidden in the vault, it was so weird to see them displayed like this; out in the open for anyone to see. Something must’ve changed in him over the years. Maybe the hurt from losing them wasn’t so bad to him after more time had passed. Or maybe he just wanted Eli to know he did have a family, and that they would’ve welcomed him with open arms… They really would have. He could practically see Laura jumping for joy, her bleached hair bouncing in the air as she ran to greet him. His dad, scruffing up the kids long hair with his big calloused hands and joking about how Eli needed a trim. It made Derek smile, but only for a moment. The realization that his mom and dad would never meet their grandson was like swallowing lead; heavy as it made his breath catch in his throat.

Derek turned his head, and looked into what used to be the guest bedroom. It was now painted scarlet red and decorated with band and horror movie posters. It still smelled like sweat, old lacrosse equipment, and the faintest hint of something familiar. Like skittles, old spice deodorant, and freshly mowed grass. The pang in his chest let him know that was the smell of his son. He turned away quickly, running off to his bedroom. It smelled like Eli there too, and he found even more photos adorning the walls and the top of his dresser. They were mostly all of him and the kid, as well as some of just Eli when he was probably around eight or nine years old. He was cute, gap toothed and knobby kneed, scrawny in Derek’s muscular arms. Another of him when he was probably in middle school, sandwiched between Derek and Cora at what looked to be a summer barbeque in… Stiles’ backyard. Well, the sheriff’s backyard now. The photo sent him reeling, like he could smell charred wood, hot dogs, and beer and that smell of warmth that the sun leaves on the earth after a hot day. Hear kids running around and splashing each other with the hose, and the sheriff's party playlist of just Jimmy Buffet and nothing else. Was Derek starting to remember? He did a bit, but he could't pull a single moment between him and Eli out of the depths of his mind.

The next photo was small, and the weird solid blue background told Derek this was probably a school yearbook photo. Eli looked closer to how he did when Derek saw him in the woods. Honestly, he looked like Stiles, with his big eyes and pale skin sprinkled with moles. Derek thought long and hard, but came up with no answer as to who the kid’s mom was. He sat and recalled every one night stand and attempted-girlfriend but came up empty. There was just this odd grumbling in his stomach and the only thing it said was ‘Stiles’.

His heart ached and he shook his head, looking around the rest of his room. Compared to the rest of the house, it was empty. Save for a few old jackets hanging in his closet, everything was gone. The mattress was bare of any sheets or comforters and all of his books were packed away in boxes on the floor. Derek hopped up on the bed and curled into a ball, huffing as he tried to stop the tears falling from his eyes but he couldn’t. Whimpering as he cried, cried for Eli, for Stiles, for all the years he couldn’t pull from his memories no matter how hard he tried.

Derek fell asleep fast, surprisingly given the amount of anxiety and dread in his gut; his body was exhausted. He always slept better as a wolf than he did as a man.

-

“What do you mean you’re not coming with me?” Peter asked, his tone hostile enough that it made Stiles recoil, pressing his back against the driver’s door of the Jeep.

“I need to be alone, Peter, I’ll text you tomorrow. This is just too much!” He yelled, his voice raspy from all the tears and screaming.

“Okay, so you just use me to get Derek back and now you’re not gonna talk to me? I’m here for you, Stiles. I don’t think you should be by yourself tonight,” he said, feigning concern as he reached his hand out and put it on Stiles’ arm.

The spark pulled away from the touch and went to open the car door. “It’s fine, dude. I’m not gonna run away, I’m just gonna go to my dad’s. And I don’t need your permission.” Stiles could see Peter winding up for a rebuttal, pain in his eyes, but Stiles didn’t let him. He just jumped into the Jeep and drove off fast.

As he saw the wolf in his mirror, Stiles felt a pang of guilt for abandoning Peter, and for speaking to him like that when all the older man had done was help but Stiles just couldn’t stand to be at that loft. He didn't want to talk about what had happened. He didn't want to have breakfast with Peter. He didn't want to sleep on the couch. All Stiles wanted his own bed, his dad, and to be alone for a while.

It felt so weird being back in that car. Like driving in a time capsule that had been preserved for years and years. Especially as he drove down familiar home town roads, from the preserve- a drive he’d made hundreds of times. The Jeep still barely worked, still got stuck in first gear and stalled if Stiles didn’t press the clutch as hard as he could. It also still had claw marks on the passenger seat cover from Derek’s wolfsbane poisoning incident, and smelled a bit like weed but Stiles figured that could’ve been from Eli- after all, it was pretty unlikely that the stench of Stiles hotboxing the Jeep a couple times had lasted for over a decade. A little gold charm still dangled from the rear view mirror, a vintage bracelet his mom used to wear. He did notice that Derek tried to fix it up a little bit, it had been vacuumed and cleaned, the cup holders weren’t full of old quarters and sticky from too many sodas he’d spilled. The headlights were also brighter, seemingly replaced. They cast brightly onto his dad’s driveway as he pulled up to the house, and parked next to the police cruiser.

He was both thankful and anxious to see the kitchen light still on. He sat in the car for a minute, catching his breath. He looked and saw the center console wasn’t closed all the way, and his curiosity got the better of him. He opened it, finding a manilla envelope. He shook it out on his lap and a gasp left his mouth. It was full of pictures. Of Stiles- of all of them. Where did Derek even get these? There was one of Stiles, Liam, Scott, Malia and Lydia; all with sleepy eyes and tired smiles in Derek’s loft. Another was just all of the pack’s senior yearbook photos, including Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. His eyes began to water. Another was just of Malia and Scott, and it was then that Stiles remembered when it was taken- right before Stiles and Lydia left for DC. Melissa had begged everyone to take some pictures, saying she wanted to remember how brave they all were and how happy she was at that moment. There was one of Scott and Stiles where he was pressing a big wet kiss on the alpha’s cheek and he was recoiling in disgust; one of Scott, Derek, and Liam with all their eyes casting bright white glares. Then there was a photo of just Stiles and Derek, worn at the edges and had clearly handled more than the rest- which were in immaculate condition. Stiles was leaning against Derek’s shoulder, looking away from the camera while he laughed. Derek was looking right at him, this wistful pain in his eyes that made Stiles nauseous.

Stiles remembered taking photos with Lydia as well, but clearly Derek didn’t ask Melissa for those. Stiles’ chest got tight at the thought of Derek missing him so much that he’d step out of his shell enough to reach out for these pictures. Then to print them and hide them away in the Jeep. He envisioned Derek sitting where he was, looking back through time at these photos. Stiles couldn’t help but cry as he put them back to where they were and hopped out of the car. It was too much. Stiles didn’t even bother to wipe the tears from his eyes as he stumbled into his house. Still covered in blood and exhausted

“Stiles? What are you doing here? Why are you- is that blood? What happened?!” His dad asked, clearly the headlights and engine were enough to have him standing right by the door when his son walked in.

Stiles’ face must’ve given him away because he knew his dad’s pity eyes well. A second later he was squished by John’s big arms. Stiles let himself be held.“I did something, dad… I don’t know if it was right but I can’t take it back,” he cried into his father’s chest. “I’m so tired.”

“Did you hurt someone? Are you hurt?” John begged, pulling away to check Stiles for injuries.

He shook his head, letting John lift up his arms and check under his shirt for cuts. “No, no one's hurt. Not physically, anyway.” Stiles’ head hung low, he didn’t want to meet his father’s fearful gaze. There was just too much to explain and Stiles felt such guilt for roping his dad back into this sh*t again. "I don't want to talk about it now... can I sleep here?"

The sheriff nodded, and the anxiety seemed to leave his body at Stiles’ reassurance. But his eyes still focused on the blood and dirt covering Stiles’ skin. “You can always stay here. Go on up and take a shower and then get into bed, kiddo. It’s all just as you left it... I need to get to sleep too. If you want, we can talk in the morning. Melissa has to get up around 5, but I'm off tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded, scared to speak, just feeling so small. His dad walked with him up the stairs, and turned the shower head on for him, pulling out a clean towel for him and placing it on the sink.

He leaned in and kissed Stiles’ forehead, “Everything is gonna be okay,” John promised. Stiles wanted to believe him more than anything. He just gave his dad a weak smile as the older man closed the bathroom door behind him.

Stiles got undressed quickly, and as he did he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked scary. His stomach was nearly concave from barely eating the last few weeks, his eyes sunken and exhausted. The caverns of his ribs deeper, his skin stained with crusted blood and mud. Bringing Derek back had clearly taken every ounce of strength Stiles possessed, even with the power of his newfound spark. He stepped closer, and noticed just the slightest glitter on his whiskey colored irises. He looked far too much like he had when he was possessed. Same red circles under his eyes, his hair grown out and wild. It made nausea rise in his stomach. He couldn't help it, he ran to the toilet and heaved up nothing but bile. It stung his throat and made tears fall from his eyes. He collapsed at the base of the porcelain and just stayed there until the room filled with steam.

Stiles groaned, finally finding the strength to stand, and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash before quickly brushing his teeth. As he did, he saw that his facial hair had grown out just the slightest, and once he was done, he quickly grabbed his dad's razor and shaved it away. Stiles never like the way he looked with hair on his face, he preferred to be smooth. He put it down, sighing as he crawled out of his boxers and slid open the curtains of the shower.

The water was scalding, just the way Stiles liked. He squirted way too much of his body wash and just scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was red and raw. Like he was trying to wipe the memory of this night off his body.Stiles watched the bottom of the tub fill with rusty auburn water as he scrubbed the blood and earth off of his forearms, neck, and face. His chest felt empty, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. He turned off the water, not bothering with conditioner. He stepped out on shaky, wet feet- nearly slipping on the tile before grabbing the towel. He didn't take the time to dry off, just wrapped himself in a towel and walked across the hall to his old bedroom. It was pitch black, he didn't care, just fell into the familiar comfort of his bed and crawled under the covers, wet and naked and let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 15: In the Morning

Chapter Text

Peter got home, sliding the door to the loft shut with such force it knocked down the framed art print on the wall next to it. He didn’t even care, especially not when the sweet smell of Stiles’ sweat was still hanging in the air. He cursed, and ran to open the door to the balcony, hoping if he let some fresh air in it would help clear his mind. He stayed out there for a while, just staring at the headlights driving by.

Peter really regretted showing a glimpse of his possessiveness to Stiles. He tried so hard not to let this side of him slip out. Stiles so ferocious, made Peter feel a surge of yearning for some of that care. Stiles had practically collapsed into Peter’s arms once the pack and Derek left the two of them alone in the woods. Peter comforted him, as best as he could but it was just clear the only person that could make Stiles feel better had just run off on four paws into the night.

The spark being heartbroken over Derek leaving… it destroyed the hope Peter had been clinging onto. And all of these things together made the wolf realize he wasn’t just attracted to Stiles, he didn’t even just have a little crush on him that could be easily ignored; Peter really wanted the spark for himself. He yearned to slide his lips across the pale expanse of Stiles’ neck, bite his pouty lips until they were cherry red and swollen, Peter wanted to tug gently on the chestnut meadow of Stiles’ hair and hear the broken whimpers he was sure the young man would make. Peter kept dreaming of himself at Stiles’ side, eyes burning ruby red next to the spark’s glowing, glittering, gold. His wolf was enthralled by this, by how powerful they could be together, how devoted Stiles would be his beta and a spark.

Peter didn’t know what to do about his feelings. Logically he knew it was the closest he’d ever felt to love in his entire life, there’s no other explanation as to why he’d tried to sabotage the resurrection. And, of course, it backfired. Peter wondered if he could make this situation work in his favor. He knew Derek well, and no matter how much his nephew cared for Stiles, he would always put his place as Eli’s father before any other relationship- mate or otherwise. But, because of Peter, Derek didn’t even remember being a dad! Hopefully that issue would be more pressing to everyone than Stiles or Derek declaring their feelings. Maybe even big enough for Stiles to lose hope completely and leave Beacon Hills. After all, the spark didn’t even know they were mates. Peter would surely follow Stiles, and in his grief maybe he could start to see Peter the same way Peter saw him. The wolf found that he felt a sense of ease and peace imagining himself following the spark anywhere in the world. He couldn’t help but feel that Stiles’ potential would be stifled if he stayed here in Beacon Hills, moved in with Derek and Eli to settle down.

Peter was quickly reminded that the feeling he was having was the same, if not much less, than the feelings Derek and Stiles had for each other. Mates were tricky like that; often they succeeded where any other relationship, no matter how true the love, would fail. The connection was written in the stars, fated for centuries. True mates didn’t just happen because two people were perfect together, they happened for a reason. It stood to be proven that Stiles and Derek’s union would be a catalyst for something important, something big. Peter wasn’t sure, still, if he wanted to f*ck with the balance of the universe like that.

But, to be fair, Peter never cared much for destiny.

-

Stiles slid out of his bed, looking up at the familiar sight of his childhood bedroom. His dad was right, it hadn’t changed a bit. Still covered in band posters and magazine pages, his glass whiteboard tucked into the corner, the same gray sheets and dark walls. The only new thing was a small couch where his desk once was, it looked to be a pull out. Maybe to accommodate more guests. Stiles walked to his closet and grabbed some old jeans and tugged them on; both relieved and kind of disappointed that they still fit. He may have gained some muscle up top but his legs were still just as lanky as they’ve always been. Just as he went to throw on his old lacrosse hoodie, the only sweatshirt he had, he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said as he slid the sweatshirt around his head.

He was surprised to see Melissa at the door, still in her pajamas and smiling at him a bit awkwardly. “Hey, Stiles.”

“Hi,” he walked over to give her a hug, but she flinched a bit. It made his stomach drop. “Uh… Scott talked to you?”

She nodded, letting out a huff of breath. “Yes, but I know how he can be… impulsive and quick to judge. But I also know that you brought Derek back from the dead and now you look…” she didn’t have to finish the sentence, Stiles knew he looked awful.

He walked back to his bed and sat on the edge of it, folding his hands together. “If we’re gonna talk, can you get my dad? I don’t wanna have to explain this all twice.”

She nodded, and leaned out the door as she called for John. He was there quickly and ushered Melissa to come sit with him across from Stiles on the couch. His dad had two cups of coffee in his hands, and extended one out to Melissa, who declined, and Stiles gladly took it from her. He took a big gulp, not even caring that it was sweeter than he usually liked, briefly wondering if his dad now knew how Ms.McCall liked her coffee.

“Start talkin,” John said as he leaned back against the couch cushion. He looked like he’d barely slept, probably up worrying about Stiles. The guilt Stiles felt for that was all too familiar. He’d worn his dad out so much throughout highschool he was surprised John even put up with all of it.

Stiles sighed, “I brought back Derek.” He didn’t have to look up from the swirling coffee to imagine his dad’s face, so he didn’t. “I went with Peter to Louisiana, Texas, then uh Mexico to get all these herbs and translate a ritual… It was kinda like how Lydia and Scott brought Allison back but it was more complicated…”

“That doesn’t explain why you were covered in blood,” John cut in. “Or why Melissa said Scott is pissed at you.”

Stiles cringed a bit, still not having the courage to look either of them in their eyes. “Yeah uh… getting to that. So, last night I brought him back but he doesn't remember Eli at all, doesn’t even remember anything from the past decade.” Stiles’ hands shook as he brought his index finger to his mouth, nibbling on the dead skin around his blunt nail. “I think it's my fault, because I was reaching for the Derek I knew… not the Derek that he was before he died. I was bloody because we um… we had to kill a real wolf, to make sure Derek came back a werewolf and not a human.” He finally looked up and was surprised to see no negative emotions on either of their faces, just a bit of pity coming from Melissa’s big brown eyes. “Scott is mad at me cause he thinks I wouldn’t take that big of a risk-that I’m possessed again or something… but I’m not. He just doesn’t get that I-” he shook his head, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “He just doesn’t understand why I wanted to bring Derek back, I guess…”

“Allison doesn’t remember much either,” Melissa said in a comforting tone. “I’m sure you guys can figure this out.”

“I’m pissed at you for doing what I can only assume is f*ckin’ black magic,” his dad groaned, setting down his coffee on the arm of the couch, squeezing the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back at Stiles. “But I can’t say I’m mad that you did it to bring Derek back…we’ve gotten pretty close, and I’m sure Eli appreciates what you did for him.”

“That’s the issue, Dad, I didn’t…do it for Eli. I did it for me.” Stiles pressed his lips together, scared to say too much.

Melissa extended her hand to rest on John’s, looking at him with a face that said everything Stiles was too terrified to say out loud.

John looked back at him, a bit shocked. “Oh… um, well that's okay too. I really do like Derek.”

Stiles couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated up with blush. The awkward silence that followed John’s comment only made it worse. So, for some reason, he thought it would be better to just keep the awkwardness going. “One more thing… it’s uh, it's kind of big.” Stiles said, putting his mug on the shelf by his bed.

“Great,” his dad sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

Stiles wished he could just make his eyes glow on command like the wolves, it would make all this so much easier. “I have magic, it’s called a spark I guess.”

“You’re a wizard?” John asked, his eyebrows so furrowed they practically became one. Melissa just shook her head, clearly tired of supernatural nonsense.

“No, well kinda… I just uh glow? I guess… and I just have like natural magic. Not like Deaton where he has to use magical ingredients.”

"Is it bad?"

"I'm not sure, I'm still trying to figure this all out. Peter said that when I brought Derek back, my eyes were glowing. I could see my veins like shining under my skin and the magic going into Derek's chest. I look terrible because I think bringing him back like literally sucked some of my life force out," he laughed shakily.

John stood up with a loud groan. He pulled Stiles into a hug, scruffing up his hair. “As long as you're alright, kiddo. Nothing else matters to me right now.”

Stiles hugged him back, and once they parted, Melissa hugged him too. The morning sun was warm and bright as it soaked the bedroom. He thought of Derek, just for a moment, debating if he should go see him. But Stiles knew him well, and figured Derek would come to him when he was ready to deal with everything. Stiles felt a bit lighter. The love and care from Melissa and his dad was starting to fill in those dark circles under his eyes. For the first time in weeks, he felt his heart beat slow to a calming thump.

-

Derek woke up groggy and disoriented, surprised to see tan, naked legs beneath him. He must’ve shifted in his sleep. Memories of coming back to consciousness in scarlet woods, scared and looking up at Stiles’ whisky eyes flooded his mind. Derek wanted to see the other man, and wanted to talk to Eli as well. But he was so terrified to do it. He wished he could just pause time for a few days, figure out everything he wanted to say, then spend another week finding the courage to speak it out loud. But that wasn’t how life worked.

He yawned as he walked over to the closet, pulling an old carhartt jacket over his bare chest. He looked around in drawers, old cabinets, and boxes until he finally found a pair of dickies. He slid them on and zipped up the jacket, as he headed into the kitchen.

He rolled his eyes immediately. “Peter.” Of course, he couldn’t expect for anyone to leave him alone, let him think. No, Derek was sure Scott and the whole pack would show up soon enough to pester him as well. There’s only one person he wouldn’t have minded seeing sitting on his kitchen bar stool, and he was nowhere to be found.

“Derek! So happy to see you on two legs, I was worried you’d forgone all humanity and just went to live in a den,” Peter joked as he walked over with his arms outstretched and gave his nephew a quick hug.

“Why are you here?” Derek asked, pulling away from Peter’s attempt at affection.

“Figured you needed some help… readjusting.” Peter gestured vaguely around them.

Derek sighed, walking over to look in the fridge. He opened it to find nothing, it wasn’t even plugged in. He was so hungry, food was the only thing he could think about at the moment. Of course, the kitchen was completely empty. He was going to complain until he caught a whiff of bacon and his head snapped toward Peter.

His uncle was just smiling and waved a brown paper back in front of him. “I thought you’d be hungry.” He opened the bag and slid three things covered in tin foil across the counter.

Derek opened the first, finding a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel. He shoved it into his mouth, salivating. He didn’t even bother to say anything, just scarfed it down as fast as he could before opening up the second and tearing into it. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in years. In a way, he really hadn’t.

Peter just watched him, amused and sipped his iced latte. “You know, you’re going to have to talk about this eventually.”

Derek gave him a piercing glare and shoved the sandwich in his mouth. “No I don’t,” he said, muffled by sausage and bread.

“Lovely,” Peter replied, sarcastically as he grimaced at the sight. Thankfully, he didn’t keep talking. Just let Derek eat the rest of his breakfast in silence.

The younger hale groaned as he tossed the trash away, finally looking at his uncle. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I only have these half-memories of my life. I can’t remember the kid at all. But I know he’s mine.”

“Allison came back too, you know?”

Derek’s eyes went wide, “What?”

“Scott and Lydia brought her back, and this triggered all this insane nonsense that involved the nogitsune- which you sacrificed your life to kill. She’s alive and doesn’t remember much either. But her memories are slowly being restored.”

“You’re saying I’ll remember Eli soon?”

“I would think so,” Peter answered, though truly he didn’t believe it.

Derek’s shoulders relaxed at those words. “Thank god,” he sighed, looking back to the fridge where a drawing of a wolf, poorly done in crayon, was hanging on the door. In terrible lettering it said, “HaPPy fotHer’s day.” The sight caused Derek's heart to tighten, like it was trying to tell him about a memory. He just couldn't remember it for the life of him.

“Now, the bigger issue,” Peter started, “Stiles.” Derek whipped his head around at the name. “He brought you back for Eli’s sake. I think that you should just leave him alone, and focus on rebuilding the relationship you had with your son.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows, remembering clearly how elated Stiles had been when he hugged Derek. He also remembered Stiles sobbing as he apologized for leaving Derek, promising that he’d never do it again, that he cared about him. “But I thought he knew, that you told him how I felt?” Derek asked, the quiet softness of his own voice surprising him as it left his lips.

“I didn't tell him anything. He does care about you, and he was more than happy to have you back. I just don’t think that he cares about you… in that way.” Peter took another sip of his drink, as if what he said wouldn’t crush Derek’s heart.

And they did, Peter’s words shot daggers into Derek’s chest, making him hang onto the counter for strength. “How would you know?” Derek pried, anger and pain clear in his tone. Then, he smelled it. Lingering ever so slightly on Peter’s skin… summer rain and macintosh…Stiles. Derek couldn’t restrain himself, his fangs and claws were out in a blink as he shoved Peter against the wall, claws around his neck. “You didn’t!” He roared.

Peter’s blue eyes flashed back at him. “Easy, Derek, Stiles wouldn’t forgive you if you killed me!”

This didn’t change anything, Derek pressed his claws into Peter’s skin harder, drawing blood. “He’s my mate, why would you do that to me?!”

“You were dead!” Peter shouted.

Derek shoved Peter hard against the wall, hearing a crack as he did so. He pulled away and watched Peter scramble out the door. Derek collapsed onto the floor the second he heard Peter was gone, he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. His mossy eyes flooded with tears and he screamed, punching through the oak cabinet next to him. The wood splintered and stuck into the skin of his knuckles, but the pain calmed the fear and rage he felt. Derek didn’t want to believe what Peter said, but he smelled it. Stiles had clearly been so close to Peter that their smells were starting to mix. The thought made puke rise in his gut and he ran to the sink to vomit up half the breakfast sandwiches he’d just eaten. He thought he could never feel as bad as he did after Thanksgiving. Knowing Stiles had slept with Peter, that they were together... he couldn't bear it.

Chapter 16: Let the Sun In

Chapter Text

Peter’s vision was blurred as he stumbled to his car, waiting for his healing to take over so he could drive. His claws left gashes in his skin, and his skull was surely cracked. Peter couldn’t believe what he'd seen… How did he not remember? Derek’s eyes were clear as day when they flashed at him- bright, burning, red. Peter knew that it happened when he sacrificed himself but he hadn’t imagined Derek would still be an alpha when he was resurrected. A true alpha.

Peter’s head throbbed as he looked down and saw the pants Stiles had borrowed from the older man on his legs. Peter never washed them, and everything had gone exactly as planned. Derek smelled it and jumped to the easiest answer. He’d be lying if he said Derek being so threatened hadn’t given Peter a jolt of excitement. Honestly, he wanted to feel guilty, even just a hint of regret, for what he did. But nothing came. Even if he technically didn’t lie to Derek he didn’t clarify, he’d gone into this fully aware of his actions. Peter knew his nephew better than almost anyone on this earth; he knew Derek would never confront Stiles about what he thought was happening, he’d just mope in silence like he’d done for the past decade. Stiles would be hurt, but he’ d assume Derek didn’t want anything to do with the spark. Peter smiled, knowing he’d be there to comfort him.

The older man groaned as he started his car; he knew staying at Derek's any longer was too risky, any moment his nephew could run back at him- feral with inky fur and tear him to shreds. Wolves have killed each other for far less offenses towards their mates. Peter was honestly surprised Derek didn’t give him worse of a beating, maybe he was still weak from coming back from the dead. Or, more likely, he just didn’t want to upset Stiles.

-

Stiles was at Deaton’s door at 8am sharp, two hours before the clinic opened. The morning sun was hot as he opened the door, bell ringing as he slid into the waiting room. He didn’t want another lecture from the vet about how this was his actual job, so he hoped showing up early would save him from that. The druid might as well have rolled his eyes, because when he saw Stiles standing by the desk he sighed so loud it was almost comical. “Stiles…”

“Alan,” Stiles replied with the same tone of exhaustion, mocking him a bit and making himself laugh.

“I assume this about Derek?” Deaton asked, turning away to walk into the other room. Stiles followed behind him and watched as the doctor started wiping down his operating table with cavicide wipes.

“Yes and no. I need to know more about this spark stuff, I need to help Derek get back his memories of Eli. Something went wrong, I don’t know what.”

Deaton leaned over to his satchel and pulled out an old book. Its binding was cracked and the pages were stained, he handled it carefully as he handed it to Stiles. “I figured you’d come asking more questions. This is the only thing I could find on Sparks. It’s in Gaelic, so you’ll have to translate it. It’s very very old, so take these,” Deaton went back into his bag and brought out a few pairs of beige gloves. “Librarian gloves, so the oils on your hands don’t break down the pages.”

Stiles nodded, sliding the gloves on as fast as he could. He put the book down on the table in front of him and carefully flipped through the pages, excitedly. There were illustrations of trees, veins, a bunch of weird swirly symbols, and f*ckin’ stonehedge! He couldn’t wait to pour over this when he had the time. But right now, he didn’t. He needed to know if Deaton could help. He put the book and gloves to the side. “Thank you, really. I appreciate it a lot. So um… about Derek…”

“You used his son’s blood right?” Deaton asked, still walking around and tidying up. His general air of unavailability was as frustrating as ever.

“Yeah. Peter got it for me, maybe it just wasn’t the right amount?” Stiles suggested. He's spent so long running over this in his mind, and this was the only thing he could come up with.

Deaton’s expression was as unreadable as always. “He was brought back to life, but he was only bones. You had to completely create a new body for him. This means he won’t be able to bring back those memories the way Peter may suggest…”

“Alpha claws,” Stiles answered.

“Yes, that won't work because there’s nothing blocking the memories- they were completely erased. His new brain doesn't have them and never did, it formed without Eli. It will be very difficult to bring those back. The kid will need to be included in this, he’s the only one who still has those memories.”

Stiles nodded, and jumped a bit when the door opened. Scott walked in, helmet in his hand. “I’m here to help,” he said, smiling awkwardly at Stiles. It was obvious Melissa had talked to him, maybe even scolded him. He always had a kicked-puppy look when his mom was pissed at him.

Eli appeared at his side, “So am I.”

So they formed a plan. Scott would soak his claws in Eli’s blood before putting them into Derek’s neck. This would both trigger Derek’s memory and flood his veins with his son’s blood. It had never been done, but it was all they had.

“I uh I don’t do well with blood,” Eli stuttered. “I’ll do it for Dad but… ugh,” He sighed, hopping up on the table, shaking off his flannel and extending his arm towards Deaton.

Stiles laughed a bit, “I was the same when I was your age, one time your dad tried to get me to saw his arm off and was pissed when I told him I would pass out if I had to do that.”

Eli looked at him with horror in his eyes. Deaton gave him a pissed off glare as he got out his equipment to draw the blood.

“Lets maybe not talk about amputation right now, buddy,” Scott said to Stiles as he put his arm on Eli’s other shoulder in comfort. The young wolf seemed to calm at the touch, but he still looked pale and nervous.

Stiles apologized and watched as Deaton pulled out a syringe. It felt good to be at an okay place with Scott. He was still pissed at the alpha, don’t get him wrong. But Stiles didn’t want to hate him. Also, with Derek back and his memories hopefully restored soon, Stiles wondered if Scott was upset. He seemed to really be committed to taking a parental role for Eli. Stiles knew better than anyone how Scott felt about his own dad. He was sure his friend losing Eli would be hard to deal with.

“Ready, Eli?” Deaton walked towards him, wrapping his forearm with a rubber tie to pool the blood.

Eli nodded, head turned as far away from Alan as it could go, staring up at the ceiling and biting his lip hard. “Ready.”

Deaton slid the needle in, pulling the blood out carefully until the large syringe was full. Scott held Eli steady, asking him if he was excited for school starting soon. He did a good job distracting the kid. Deaton slid the needle out and turned away quickly so Eli couldn’t see it. The teen still looked woozy, and Stiles briefly wondered if the boy was more human than wolf.

“All done.” Deaton unwrapped the tie, and the little pool of blood healed quickly. He handed Scott the vial of blood.

“How are we gonna get Derek? Last time I saw him... he was not wanting any company.” Stiles asked.

“I think he’s just at his house,” Scott answered. “I’ll go alone, if that’s alright?”

Eli looked hurt but nodded, Stiles wanted to argue but he still wanted to wait for Derek to reach out first.

"I just think seeing you might be too hard right now," Scott comforted Eli. Stiles felt uncomfortable, so he just grabbed his book and gloves and pulled the keys to the Jeep out of his pocket.

They all parted ways, Stiles headed to his dad’s house and began flipping through the book Deaton gave him. The day turned to night. Then the sun rose and fell again. He learned that sparks were thought to be descended from fae- which made him flip out because of course faeries were real too. It said that because of this, Spark's magic was genetic. Stiles wondered what side of his family this came from, he’d bet money it was his mom’s. He learned that he could heal wounds, not just take pain. That he could form physical manifestations of his magic and it looked like light. Apparently each spark’s magic was a different color, Stiles’ seemed to be golden, orangey-yellow like the fluorescent light of a street lamp. According to his translation, this meant he had a particular affinity for sun worship and magic, that his power would be stronger in the summer and early autumn. It was overwhelming but so exciting and interesting. Stiles barely left his room, spending hours translating and praying the website he was using was good.

Derek never came, never called or texted. Stiles watched his phone and driveway like a hawk. With each day that passed, Stiles’ guilt grew.

-

Derek woke up to Scott’s voice calling out his name over at the shop. He groaned as he went outside to see what was going on. He knew he probably looked like sh*t but he didn’t care. He stood out on his porch, arms crossed. “What do you want, Scott?”

The alpha held out a vial, “I think we may be able to get your memories of Eli back. But it’s gonna hurt.” He extended his claws, showing them off.

Derek let him inside.

Chapter 17: Skittles and Skinned Knees

Chapter Text

Scott’s bloody claws sank into his neck, and Derek howled in pain until his sight was overtaken.

A year after thanksgiving, Derek was learning to be happy. It started the day Derek found a toddler in the woods by the nematon. He was wandering all by himself, headed to the family plot to leave everyone flowers. Then, he was there. Crying and alone, fangs and glowing eyes. A little baby wolf. Derek picked him up and called the Sheriff. They both went to the hospital, tested the boy's blood and quickly found out he shared half of Derek's DNA. Normally, Derek would've freaked out. But for some reason, he just felt this wave of calm wash over his body. He adopted the boy and brought him home as quickly as he could.

Being a dad was hard. He'd never had to take care of anyone like this, except his younger siblings and cousins when he was a kid too. This was different. It was sleepless nights and hundreds of diapers and bottles and vomit on his henley's. He stopped caring about being tough, and let himself lean into being a bit goofy.Eli’s little laugh filled the empty, scarred space in his heart that Stiles, his family, and every trauma he'd endured had left.

Derek saw it all. He saw the scrawny five year old running into his arms, Eli skinning his knees as he fell off his bike, Derek running to his side and holding him as he cried, secretly leeching his pain as he hugged the boy tight. He saw his son, asleep in his arms as Derek carried him to the car and buckled him into the seat, exhausted from playing in the sun all day. Heard his glittering laugh through gapped teeth after Derek showed Eli his half-shifted form for the first time, remembered how he tugged at Derek’s pointy ears so hard it made him wince. But he grew up, and he just… was so much the man he loved it brought all of those feelings back. Sometimes, he’d see Eli pulling up the house in the Jeep and his brain would forget. He’d start to run to the door, but then he’d remember. In those moments, he regretted how mad he would get at his son. Yelling and telling him to never touch the Jeep. Yes, he was worried about Eli’s safety but honestly… he just couldn’t handle those split seconds of hope that Stiles was coming back to him.

He remembered threatening Coach to let his son play just for five minutes. He saw how beautiful Eli’s eyes were the first time he let his wolf out in years. Every hug, every fight, every first, every school recital and every lecture… Derek remembered it all and the empty chasm of his chest filled with skittles, bandaids, pillow forts, and bubble baths.

Then, Derek remembered all the cold nights, his bed empty and just focusing his hearing on Eli’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep. Trying everything in his power to ignore the guttural yearning in his stomach, begging him to pick up the phone and call Stiles. He’d finally drift off. But only to dream of elvish limbs, camel eyelashes, and the smell of apple orchards. In those dreams, he could feel the soft pout of Stiles’ lips brushing against his, feel their skin gliding across each other. Only to wake up alone again.

In his mind, Stiles was still the same awkward, goofy clutz he was when Derek saw him leave for DC. Still young and bouncing off the walls. Two left feet, infinite sarcastic remarks, big bambi eyes that were like pools of sun soaked honey.That was how he’d remembered Stiles all these years, when he was just another ghost in Derek’s life. Another person who’d left and never bothered to come back. But unlike everyone else, even though Derek was expecting it- anger never came. No, Derek just… missed him. He just hoped and prayed that Stiles was alright. When Derek killed the nogitsune, he did it for his son, but he also did it for Stiles… Knowing if he died he could make sure Stiles wasn’t in danger, never having to worry about losing himself, or hurting the people he loved again.

Derek saw Jordan’s flames, the decrepit flaming bandages and dripping black maw of the nogitsune, watched as his skin caught fire and screamed as they burnt. He died and he knew he was dying, and his eyes began to burn a hot crimson.

Then, all the light and noise around him faded to a numbing silence. He was just wandering around a void, for what seemed like minutes or years. He screamed for Stiles, for Eli. Confused, time looping over and over until he felt like he was going mad. Lost some odd white world, with floors of fog and baby breaths. He wasn’t ready to leave. Before he could even realize where he was, he saw himself floating in blue, chlorinated water. Stiles still in his lacrosse tracksuit, swimming towards the wolf’s limp, sinking body. Swimming as hard as he could to pull Derek up for breath.

Then, he was in the woods. Looking up at those same doe eyes, the ones he loved more than life. The ones that kept him. Grinning wide as he fell into Derek’s chest as he told him almost everything Derek ever wanted to hear.

Derek cried as Scott’s claws slid out. The alpha went to comfort him but Derek needed to leave. "Where is he?" He asked, his voice desperate and full of unshed tears.

Scott looked shocked, but happy that their plan had worked. "He's at the high school, trying to practice for lacrosse before school starts."

"Thank you," Derek patted Scott's shoulder.

"You should thank Stiles and Deaton, it was all their idea."

Derek nodded, ignoring the stab of pain at the mention of his mates' name, and his feet turned to paws and he ran as fast as he could to the woods.

He ran as fast as he could, even though his neck was bleeding, his legs were weak and his body was tired. He just went until he reached the edge of the woods behind the lacrosse field, hiding behind a big tree and watching Eli. His heart swelled as he saw Eli able to actually pick up the pace on his laps, grinned with pride as he saw him shooting into the goal. Practicing all by himself with ease. He knew it was probably just Eli’s wolf becoming more comfortable, but that was cause for pride as well.

Once Eli came out of the locker rooms, looking around for Allison's car, Derek let out a low growl, quiet enough only a werewolf could hear. Eli’s head whipped around and ran towards him. “Dad?!” He yelled out into the woods, holding his body up against the trunk of a tree, peering around.

Derek walked over, scared but so excited, up where his son could see him. Eli ran over, but stopped when he got too close.

“Are you… do you remember?”

Derek wanted to shift back but also didn’t want to be naked by a high school, so he just swung his head as a motion for Eli to follow him. They ran through the woods together, Derek keeping his pace slow because he was sure Eli must be tired from practicing.

They finally got far enough away, to where a little creek ran through the woods. Derek shifted back and Eli didn’t even blink before running into his arms. “I remember everything, skittle,” Derek let slip his kid’s nickname and Eli’s smile was so bright he couldn’t help but shed a few tears at the sight. "I love you so much, Elijah."

“It worked!” Eli cried into his arms. "I love you too, Dad, I missed you so much."

“It worked,” Derek reassured.

Chapter 18: Misty Glow

Chapter Text

Derek's heart was broken, but he hid it as well as he could. Smelling Stiles' sweat against Peter's skin... it was too much for him. He just swallowed the hurt down, rebuilt the cabinet door he broke. Scott brought all his things back from storage, along with Eli's. They unpacked together. They rebuilt their life, and being with his son was enough to keep him grounded. Eli helped, just as he always did.

Derek felt at peace, cuddled up on the couch with hot chocolate and Eli's favorite TV show. Derek didn't really get it, but his son was obsessed so he did his best to try to understand the characters and plot so he could listen to Eli talk about it. Apparently, since he died, there'd been a whole new season out so he had a lot to catch up on. The next day, they just lounged around and kept with hanging up pictures, doing laundry, all those mundane things that Derek had built his life around.

Eli barely left the house. It was so unlike what their relationship had been before all of this. There was no slamming doors or stealing cars or fights. It was almost odd. Eli clung to his side like he did when he was little, even let his head rest in Derek's lap when they watched shows, the first night they'd slept in Eli's bed like they did when the wolf was just a kid. Derek never asked why, just ran his fingers through Eli's brunette hair and ignored his loud snoring. Eli even helped Derek around in the shop, handed him tools, helped unpack parts and reorganize the office. He'd leave only for a few minutes, then return with cold waters or snacks. In those moments, Derek would look out the window and see the empty spot in the parking lot where that baby blue Jeep once sat. This monument to Derek's lost mate; where he'd sit late at night and look over those old photos. Now it was just... gone.

Right now, his son was helping Derek make dinner. Chopping carrots and onions, rambling about the classes he was going to take this upcoming year, and saying how weird it was that when he was shifted, he could smell his own body odor. Normally he'd complain about the painful onion eyes, but now he just smiled and tossed the veggies into the stew pot. Derek couldn't be prouder of Eli for overcoming his fear, for being proof that the Hale wolves weren't all gone.

"You're gonna do lacrosse again this year?" Derek asked, bundling up rosemary and thyme with a pale yellow twine.

"Yeah! Now that I can wolf out without uh freakin' out, Coach will probably actually let me on the field!" Eli excitedly bounced over the fridge and brought out the chicken and then back to the island.

Derek smiled and scruffed up Eli's messy hair. "I'm excited to see you play. Also, you need to trim your hair, you look like a hippy."

Eli blushed and laughed, "That's such an old person thing to say. My hair is awesome." The teen flipped his hair dramatically over his shoulder to prove his point.

"I am old," Derek said, gesturing to the grey in his beard.

"Technically, you're only like 6 days old."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Just throw the chicken in, please."

"Hey, have you talked to Stiles yet?" Eli asked as he tossed the meat in. Derek took over and gestured for Eli to clean up.

Dereks stomach dropped. "Uh, no. Let's just finish up dinner."

Eli looked at him with curiosity but, much to Derek's surprise, didn't bring it up again.

-

Stiles was shaking outside of Derek’s house, eyes darting around; noticing the large plant on the patio that was unwatered and wilted. He could hear the faint noise of a TV on somewhere. Thin walls. Stiles was sure the wolf could hear his rabbit heartbeat. He took a deep breath, knowing it was now or never. He couldn’t wait any longer for the wolf to reach out or he’d surely go mad.

It had been nearly a week since Derek regained his memories and he still hadn’t reached out. Stiles passed the time by hanging out with his dad, reading through the entire book Deaton gave him, twice. There was so much to go through it felt overwhelming. The things he was learning... it was like when he first realized werewolves were a thing. Of course, with everything they'd dealt with, he'd researched 'magic' countless times. But it was all just what people told him because the internet wasn't very reliable when it came to the supernatural. Sometimes he wondered how the hell humans had gone so long never encountering anything supernatural. Beacon Hills was a hell mouth, though, so he supposed that was why he couldn't escape this sh*t. So with all that being said, he'd never really read anything about magic itself, from an actual in depth, nearly scientific reference. The book Deaton gave him, poorly translated from Gaelic, was incredible. He'd ate a few extra adderall and just tore into it.

It seemed to be written by a Druid, or someone close with them. He describes the way magic works, what it is that makes a werewolf's eyes glow, how the energy from an herb can create power. It was spark from light, called splanc, or ríosóg , a spark from embers. And the magic;draíocht. Used to describe enchantments, the thing that is like a second blood pumping through him. Pumping through the wolves, and all other creatures, to a degree as well. He learned the vastness that his powers could have, but he was unsure if that kind of thing would be out of reach to him. Summoning storms, changing seasons, necromancy (obviously), other types of ritual magic, shapeshifting, even flight, all ideas that made his head spin. After all, it explained that spark magic was less like that of the wolves, ruled by the moon; and more something along the lines of fae. A different world entirely, one where everything is supernatural, is magic, is everything. A part of our own, through a veil. Stiles was familiar with the things on the other side.

Stiles realized he'd been there, many times. That empty white space, where time is nothing, where it's a snowy forest in California in the summer, where he was lost in a train station with Peter, where the spirits Lydia heard lived, maybe even where Anam and Derek were wandering. Turns out, it wasn't just bardo or an afterlife, that was just one part of the entire... dimension almost. It could be accessed in a few physical locations around the world. Stiles pulled out his old glass research board and hung up a map. He put red circles around the Scottish isles, the woods in northern Maine, the amazon jungle, near the arctic circle in Russia, Hawaii, a mountain region in China, deep in the Saharan desert, and a few question marks at some other places. For hours and hours he read through it all, wrote notes, checked translations a hundred times. He organized everything he learned into helpful folders on his laptop. He fell asleep with his face in the book nearly every night.

Last night, he'd dreamt he was in this mist. Thick and blinding, then he was surrounded by fireflies, by lightning, he heard Lydia's screech of Allison's name. It smelled like mud and thunderstorms. He looked down at his hands, covered in thick black blood. Underneath the ichor, he could see the light glowing inside his veins, trailing up his arms like bright mycelium under his skin. When he woke up in this same room, surrounded by these same dark grey walls... he was ashamed to admit he felt exactly like he had more than a decade ago. His dad's face when he ran into the room... so scared, and almost disappointed. John wiped the tears from Stiles' cheeks and rocked him in his arms until the young man fell asleep. Stiles felt like a little kid again. The night before that, he'd dreamt only of Derek's glowing chest and eyes, the smell of pine, and the taste of blood on his lips.

He thought of the wolf constantly, seeing his reflection every time Stiles there was a marking of a triskelion on one of the yellow stained pages, a drawing of a wolf, notes about wolfsbane... he just couldn't stop. He smoked cigarettes as he walked through the preserve at night, hoping he'd hear a familiar howl. Only met with the silence of the forest. His clothes smelled like menthol and tobacco.

The only other thing occupying his time was Peter's frequent visits.

-

“You wanna share these documents with me? I could help you research and look through the vault,” Peter said, scrolling through the nearly highlighted and bulleted information Stiles had compiled.

“Yeah, sure, just put in your email,” Stiles said from his spot on the couch. It was the seat closest to the window, and since he came home the cushion had grown a dent where Stiles parked himself to pour over the book, stare out the window lost in thought, and occasionally watch a movie. It was nice. It felt like old summer breaks in highschool. The ones before Scott turned. Where he just wasted away in his room, playing video games and eating junk food. Anything to distract him from the anxiety building inside him as he waited to talk to Derek. Recently, Peter would come in and sit on the edge of his bed and they’d talk. It seemed that the wolf wasn’t mad at Stiles for leaving the preserve with such a fuss; he’d waltzed in like it never happened.

“It says here you could… summon storms and lightning, I wonder if that’s why…” Peter didn't need to elaborate on that theory.

“Nogitsune? Yeah… there’s a whole separate folder for that theory,” Stiles huffed, rubbing his eyes and watching the faint outline of his writing program stain his eyelids. He didn’t like thinking about that time in his life but it seemed that he wasn’t chosen at random. The void likely could sense Stiles’ untapped spark. If only he’d known about it before…

“I see. Well this is all insane but really amazing. I can’t believe how strong you are,” Peter remarked, standing up and walking towards Stiles, placing himself next to the younger man on the couch.

“How strong I theoretically could be,” the spark emphasized. “Not confirmed.” He smiled regardless, he was honestly excited about learning how his magic worked. He couldn’t wait to train, and soon to help Anam bring her daughter back. It was overwhelming, sure, but he was Stiles! He’d learn any and everything to make sure he was as prepared as he could be before doing anything dangerous. Still, this idea of power and strength like he’d never known was terrifying. He wondered if this was how Scott felt when the bite first started impacting him; if he felt like a live wire bouncing around trying desperately not to accidentally brush someone’s skin.

The wolf rolled his eyes and rubbed Stiles on the shoulder for a few seconds. “You will be, I just know it.”

"Thanks, man." Stiles sighed. “Have you talked to Derek at all? Do you know why he’s avoiding me?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not since before Scott brought back his memories.” Stiles’ remaining smile fell. “Remember what I told you, Eli is his only priority and has been for a long time. I think he just wants to do what he’s always done; be left alone.”

Stiles nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It had a pretty permanent line of torn skin from his near permanent state of fear or worry he’d inhabited since he was sixteen. He raked his tongue over the ragged flesh, tasting blood.

-

He couldn’t hold his words in his chest any longer, they were boiling in him. Stiles bit his lip as he knocked on the door.

It took a few seconds but, to Stiles’ surprise, Derek opened it. His eyes were cast to his feet, he was in plush flannel pajama pants and a black pullover, his hair was untamed and soft on top of his head. He looked tired and didn’t say anything, just stood in the doorway like he didn’t want Stiles to come in.

“Hey… I tried to um… wait for you to come to me to talk,” Stiles said, just going for it. “But I realize that you might be pissed at me, and I totally get that.” The spark fidgeted, scratching his hair with short nails. “I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you’re alright.”

Derek scoffed, “I’m fine.”

“Good!” Stiles yelped, too loud compared to the wolf’s quiet, blunt tone. He was acting so much like he did when they first met. Rambling and buzzing, about to bounce of the walls. It was making all of Stiles’ nerves worse. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not much to say… Thanks for bringing me back. You didn’t have to do that,” Derek said, like he had to force every word out of his body. His shoulders were stiff, and he still hadn’t looked Stiles in the eye. The spark looked back into the house, and saw opened boxes sprawling the floor, books stacked on the coffee table. He was unpacking.

“I know I f*cked up the ritual, and I’m sorry about Eli… I wish I could fix it but, um.. Peter told me that you got your memories back! That’s good!” Stiles awkwardly bounced, unable to keep his anxiety in his body. “Are you mad at me? If so, can you please tell me why? If it’s cause I f*cked up the ritual, I uh I get that but… there’s a lot I need to say to you.”

“Peter, huh?” Derek snarked, finally meeting Stiles’ desperate gaze. The spark swore he’d never seen Derek look more pissed off in his life. And that was saying something given the wolf was constantly mad. His jaw was clenched, hands fisted tightly against his legs.

“Yeah… What about him?” Stiles was so lost.

“You reek of him, he’s rubbing it in my face, isn’t he? That’s why you’re here?”

“Rubbing… What are you talking about, Derek? I just saw him earlier… Do I smell bad?” Stiles lifted his arm to smell his pits, finding only the scent of his green apple deodorant and maybe a little bit of body odor.

“I don’t know what you see in him, really. I mean!” Derek groaned, “After what he did to Scott, to Laura, to Lydia…to you…” he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What do I see in… Peter? Nothing-wait, you think we’re together? Like together-together?”

“You both smell like you’ve been f*ckin’ real close and personal,” Derek growled. With Malia, Lydia, Derek had been able to keep his jealousy in check. But Peter, no. It just made no sense. Sure they were both snarky and sarcastic and smart but… Stiles was far too good to be in company like that.

Stiles reached his arm out to put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, but the wolf flinched. “Derek, I am not dating Peter. Never been with him like that in any way. He surely has made some uh moves on me, I guess, but we’ve never even kissed, dude.” His face spread in a grimace at the thought. The spark wanted to say he couldn’t believe what Derek was saying, but another part of him wasn’t surprised. Peter had been so… pushy lately. So adamant about Stiles just leaving, to train his spark. Stiles felt like it was the right thing but he couldn’t leave without talking to Derek; not when Stiles risked it all to be able to talk to him.

Derek listened closely, and could pick up no lie in Stiles’ heartbeat. “Peter said…” Realization set in and Derek’s eyes flashed red. Of course he lied, he probably rubbed himself over Stiles right before coming over and hoped Derek would assume the worst. “That motherf*cker, I’m gonna kill him.” Derek felt his fangs slip out as he pushed his way by Stiles only to be stopped by his bony hand on Derek’s chest.

“Derek! I missed you,” Stiles blurted out. He had to bring it up. He had to know now if this was more. If Derek felt the same.

Derek paused, “Stiles, I can’t talk about this now. I need to find my uncle,” he huffed, “and rip his head off,” he said, voice deep and thick as his wolf rose to the surface.

Stiles felt his face heat up, he always found wolfed-out, angry Derek to be… incredibly attractive. In a terrifying way, but hot nonetheless.“He told you we… why? Also your eyes are red!” Stiles scrambled. Running towards Derek and grabbing his sleeve, trying to pull him back.

“I don’t know why they’re red. But Peter did it because he wants you, you said he’d been trying. He was trying to cut me out of the picture,” Derek said, trying to sound less scary than he felt. He saw the hurt in the younger man’s eyes, how the honey irises swelled as he looked so…disappointed.

Stiles nodded, “What the f*ck? I thought he just wanted to…” he trailed off, lost in rage about how Peter orchestrated the last week of dread in Stiles’ life. Especially after he had just started to trust Peter. Stiles genuinely cared for him. All that care was turning to embers burning angry in his gut. Then he realized why Peter lied to Derek. “Wait um…You’re in the picture? Like…?” He asked the alpha. The younger man’s mind was running a mile a minute, mostly pissed at Peter but full of this bright joy in his chest knowing that Derek still, after all this time, wanted him like that.

Derek couldn’t help the smile on his face, “Not now, Stiles.”

Stiles' face spread into a wide grin, wanting nothing more than to fall into the older wolf’s arms. But he couldn’t. No, there was business to attend to. “I’m coming with you and I’m getting my bat.”

Chapter 19: Sunspots

Chapter Text

Peter was sitting on the couch in the loft when they arrived, reading a book. He didn’t even look up when the door slid open and Derek and Stiles stormed in. He just groaned and shook his head.

“What the f*ck, Peter? Why did you tell Derek we were dating, you ass!” Stiles yelled, swinging his bat angrily. He was hurt that Peter lied, he'd grown to really care about the older wolf. He'd comforted him, took care of him, and now it was all for naught. More than anything, Stiles was hurt that Derek had spent all these days hating Stiles.

“Stiles, relax. I never said that. Whatever Derek told you, isn’t true. I never said we were dating.” Peter placed a bookmark in between the pages and set his novel aside. He didn’t stand, though. Just uncrossed his legs and relaxed into the cushion behind him.

Stiles looked at Derek. The dark haired wolf rolled his eyes, “He’s not lying. He didn’t say it directly, but he let me believe it…” Derek’s eyes were glowing red but still this sadness haunted them. His gaze met Stiles’ and it was like the burning rubies coating honey. “He smelled so much like you…”

Stiles’ heart ached at that. “I’ve been waiting for you-Derek, when you died, No one told me… I couldn’t do anything. I had to do something. Peter was the only person I thought could help.”

Derek’s fangs slipped out, and he turned his feelings towards his uncle. He rushed towards him, Peter dodged the wolf and flipped over the couch. “I could’ve gone feral, you f*ckin’ piece of sh*t!” Derek roared and grabbed his uncle by the fabric of his collar and shoved Peter against the wall, slamming him so hard the lamp next to the wall fell and shattered on the floor. He was seeing red, and he could feel the wolf inside him clawing to get out. It had been howling and gutting him from the inside out since the very second he smelled his mate's scent on Peter's skin. Everyone who knew about mates knew that rejection could send even the most well adjusted wolf feral. The only thing anchoring him to his humanity since he'd been back was Eli.

Feral? Stiles thought as he looked around confused. He'd ask Derek later. Stiles was pissed, he didn’t even try to stop Derek. Just ran next to them. “You told me he wouldn’t wanna talk to me! You watched me freak out for a week!”

“Stiles, listen,” Peter pleaded. His hands out in front of him, trying to stop Derek from choking him out. “I just- I liked you! I think I love you...I would be so much better for you, I could help you with your spark! If you’re with Derek, you’ll be stuck here, you’ll never reach your full potential, your full power!” Derek growled at that and shoved his knee up, smashing into Peter’s groin and making him cry out in pain.

Stiles scoffed and raised his arm to swing at him, but lost the energy to do anything to the pathetic man in front of him. Stiles just let the metal weapon fall to the floor in a large clang. “I’m not you. This was never about power, Peter! It was always-” The spark looked over at the younger Hale. “It was always about Derek. I couldn’t have been more clear.” He’d give up all his discovered powers a hundred times, as long as he could still have Derek back in the land of the living. No matter of magical storms, astral projection, or faerie wings could convince him of such. All that mattered was saving the man he loved. "I told you how he... I told you how I felt. Why did you think you could change my mind?" Stiles was surprised at how hurt his voice sounded. He thought of all those nights Peter and him spent together. How it was all tainted now.

Derek let his uncle go, with a hard shove that sent him falling to the ground. “I can’t believe you, Peter. You’ve always been slimy but this…”

The older man looked up at Stiles, his icy eyes wet but not crying. “Don’t hate me, Stiles, please. I know I f*cked up but I just... I just wanted a chance, I knew I'd never get one with Derek in the picture.”

Stiles scoffed, “I thought you actually wanted to be friends, dude. f*ck off.” Stiles grabbed his bat off the floor and walked out. Derek followed suit. They got into Stiles’ jeep quickly, huffing from the adrenaline as Stiles started the car.

They drove in silence, the spark didn’t even know where he was going when he pulled out of the parking lot. He just pressed on the gas and tried not to look over at the wolf next to him.

“I thought about you every day,” Derek admitted. His words sliced through the deafening quietness.

Stiles nearly swerved off the road. Instead, he just hastily pulled off onto a dirt road. It was the edge of where the preserve met a state park. A thin road that split down a meadow with tall grass, pushed down from where deer laid to sleep. Stiles hit the breaks and parked the car. “What um… what do you mean? Like since you've been back?” He asked, heart pounding like a crow in his ribcage.

Derek looked nervous. It was an emotion Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen on the wolf’s face. His tongue was pressed on by his little bunny teeth and his green eyes were wide. He shook his head. "No, not just this week..." Derek cracked his knuckles and bit his lip. “You were gone for so long. I just… I wanted you to know that I missed you.” Derek looked out the window, unable to face the younger man. Too scared of the truth, too scared to see Stiles’ reactions to all of this. What if he didn’t feel the same? “I thought about you all the time. All these years.”

Stiles let the words sink in. All those nights he thought of calling Derek, all those days wishing things had ended differently, every near drunken message, dream of them together, night spent wondering if he should just run back to California… Derek felt them too. He thought of the photographs sitting between them, tucked away in the envelope in the console of the Jeep.“I thought about you all the time too… an embarrassing amount, actually.” Stiles could feel his cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

Derek opened the door and got out, Stiles looked around confused but followed the wolf out into the field. He wanted to ask where they were going, but the anxiety had swelled his throat shut. They walked far, still in the meadow. The jeep just out of sight. Derek stopped, looking around at the wildflowers and grasses. They stood there, closer than they’d ever been but so much distance between them. Stiles stared at Derek, finally taking note of all his features now that life flooded his bones again. He looked the same, but age had taken him gracefully. His stubble was marked with gray and white, and his hair matched as well but was still mostly black. He was still strong and tall, but he had whispers of crows feet and Stiles could see that he’d had years of smiles. Smiles that Stiles was so unfamiliar with. One's he'd missed over all these years. The wolf that lived in his memories was still so closed off. He guarded his heart with fangs, claws, and thick chains.

Derek looked at Stiles, too. He noticed his grown out hair, how his gangly limbs had filled out with just a bit of lean muscle. His eyes were the same. Big and wide and glittering gold in the mid-day sunshine. Those same moles decorated his skin like paint splatters and Derek wanted to touch that soft, pale flesh. So close, but nearly two steps away. It should’ve been uncomfortable. But it wasn’t. They just looked at each other.

“Why did you bring me back?” Derek asked, desperation in his tone. “I know, at Peter’s, you said no one told you I died…”

Stiles’ face twisted with pain. “I did some stuff I shouldn't have… I just. I had to see on the news that you died, Derek.” He felt tears sting the back of his throat like whiskey. “It was the worst I’d ever felt. I wasn’t there to help. No one f*ckin’ told me any of this sh*t was happening! Including you! The nogitsune was back and I didn’t have any chance to save you from it! I hadn’t seen you in years, I had all this guilt from just leaving but-” Stiles couldn’t restrain his feelings any longer. They all broke down at once. He cried, desperately. Weeks of grief, fear, anger, all of it came crashing onto him. “There was so much I wanted to say to you, so many things I’ve ignored for years!I-I had to save you!” Stiles throat was ripping open, at least that's how it felt.

Derek looked at him, with some unreadable expression. Then he closed the gap between them, just grabbing Stiles by his arms and forcing the spark into his arms. Stiles let out a surprised yelp but let himself be hugged. He relaxed into the older man’s arms and just went limp.

“Thank you, Stiles,” Derek whispered. His tone so soft it was jarring. The feeling of this ghost that haunted him, his mate finally here. He couldn’t help but rub his face into Stiles’ neck. Covering the smell of Peter that still lingered on his skin.

They both fell into the tall grass together, on their knees just holding each other. The hot summer breeze whipped through their hair and the sun was hot on their skin. It was everything Stiles had ever wanted. It was what he dreamt of. He felt the sun sink inside him, and he was buzzing with excitement and fear.

“Stiles, why the hell are you glowing?” Derek asked, pulling away and staring at Stiles with a dumbstruck look.

Chapter 20: Bird Songs

Chapter Text

August in California was always miserable, even in Beacon Hills. It was close to the bay, so it tended to be a little cooler and wetter than the rest of the dry, arid state. Even then, it was hot as hell. Ninety degrees at the sun’s peak that day. Derek usually chooses to hide away inside and wait until the sun begins to set to go for a run through the woods. Maybe take Eli to the old Hale swimming hole deep in the preserve if the heat was unbearable. When he was a kid, they’d spend all day out there; jumping off the tall rocks by the waterfall and into the deep lagoon. Derek looked at Stiles, wondering if he’d maybe want to go. Still so scared to ask.

Stiles and Derek were still sitting in the tall grass, sun beating down on their faces. Sweat making their skin wet and salty. They hadn’t said much of anything. This comfortable silence between them. Derek finally pulled away from their embrace, and his jaw dropped as he saw Stiles’ eyes glowing bright as the sun above them, his veins shining underneath his skin a golden ochre. “Stiles, why the hell are you glowing?” He yelped, sniffing the air to see if Stiles was a wolf now.

The young man blushed, ducking his head and closing his eyes. “Uh, yeah, that’s a long story.” He had no clue how he could even begin to explain this all to Derek. Maybe he could just show Derek his research, like he had with Peter.

Derek just looked at him again, the same aghast look on his face.

Stiles sighed, “I’m a spark. I guess.”

“Spark?” Derek had never heard of such a thing.

“It’s like a magic faerie wizard… I’m still trying to figure this all out. The, uhm, glowing started happening when I went through the ritual to bring you back. The magic I was using, it brought out this latent magic in my blood.” Stiles bit his lip, nervous as to Derek’s reaction. “It’s weird, I’ve always been just Stiles. Nothing crazy or supernatural. Kinda freakin’ out about it, to be honest.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You’ve never been just anything. I was there when you laid the mountain ash barrier, remember?” Stiles nodded sheepishly. “Also, even without your magic, you’ve never been normal.”

“Well, yeah, never been the most average guy, I guess.” The spark laughed a bit, and Derek felt a pang in his chest. The wolf had missed that sound. Like birds chirping. Stiles laughing, the one thing that shined bright through all those years of darkness. His jokes, teasing, yelling, sporadic nature. This town had never been the same since Stiles left it.

Derek brought his hand to Stiles’ jaw, tilting his head so their eyes met. “Your eyes…”

Stiles’ heart was pounding, he felt faint. With the heat, and this intimacy, his body was sure to give out. Derek’s fingers on his skin felt like lightning and he could feel his veins reacting, seeing them pulsing in his peripheral vision. That was not very helpful, as he was still trying to keep his feelings in check. “Yeah, they look like a werewolf, but-”

“They’re beautiful.” Derek said plainly. They were. Like swirling pools of honey in afternoon light. He let his hand drop and instead raked over the soft skin of Stiles’ wrists, where the light was flashing gently.

Stiles smiled and let out a nervous chuckle. “Thanks.”

Derek blushed at his own honesty, standing up and offering his hand to Stiles. The wolf pulled him to his feet with ease. “I should um… I should probably get back home. Eli probably wants to go swimming and I’m not letting him drive any more until he actually gets his license.”

Stiles nodded, “Oh! Yeah, sorry to keep you. I’ll drive you home.” The wolf followed him back to the Jeep and got inside. Derek reached and turned the AC on and watched Stiles’ eyes bug out of his head. “Roscoe has AC now?!” He cried out.

“I fixed it up for you, new engine, all new electric, new tires, functioning transmission, haven’t gotten the chance to switch out the cushions yet, though,” Derek said, quickly realizing how crazy what he’d said was. He fidgeted nervously in his seat, buckling himself and looking anywhere but at the beautiful man next to him.

Stiles could cry. He wouldn’t. “You hated the Jeep…”

Derek scoffed, “I didn’t hate the Jeep. It was a piece of junk, but it was your piece of junk. I thought you might want it functioning if you ever… when you came back.”

Stiles smiled wide. “You’re not the Derek I remember,” he admitted.

Derek’s heart sank. “Yeah, uh, sorry.”

Stiles leapt into action, arms sprawling out around him in defense. “No, no! Not like that, I just meant… you’re softer now. More in touch with your feelings. It’s nice. You’re uh nice. More wolf, less sour.”

Derek let out a laugh and tried to hide the hot blush creeping up the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

-

Stiles pulled into Derek’s driveway, and let the older man out. Before he could say goodbye, the spark saw a teen boy barrelling towards them.

“Hey Stiles!” Eli yelled as he got closer. He was already in swim trunks and a t shirt, clearly feeling the heat given the dusting of sweat all over him.

Derek quickly jumped out of the passenger seat and up to his son. Stiles got out as well. “Hey, man, how are you?” He asked awkwardly. He hadn’t seen the kid since the night of the ritual, and he had no idea how to brace the subject.

Eli beamed, “I’m great! Thanks to you and Scott!” He gestured to his dad and even gave him an endearing side-hug that made Stiles’ heart ache. It was amazing to see Derek like this. Paternal, kind, patient. He even kissed Eli’s sweaty forehead and made no remark of how gross that probably was.

Stiles ducked his head in embarrassment. “Glad to hear it, anything for your old man,” he teased.

“I gotta go get changed. Eli, get all the swim stuff, we can go stop by Tony’s and get subs and go to the watering hole if you want,” Derek cut in, changing the conversation. Talking about him being dead was still too much to bear. Even if he knew they’d have to discuss it eventually.

“We?!” Eli asked, excitedly. “Stiles is coming? Sweet!”

Stiles moved in to correct Derek, “No-”

“You’re more than welcome,” Derek interrupted. His mossy eyes looked at him, and Stiles could see that he was earnest.

Stiles thought about it for a moment, but given the kid’s wide, hopeful eyes, and Derek’s offer, he found himself caving. “That’d be great. As long as I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all! It’s always just me and Dad, it’ll be nice to have some company! You can borrow some of my swim shorts, we’re probably about the same size,” Eli answered before bouncing back into the house.

“Don’t forget the towels!” Derek yelled after him.

“Should I be offended that I’m in my thirties and a teenager thinks we can fit in the same shorts?” Stiles asked, half-joking.

Derek scoffed. “You’ve always been pretty tiny, he’s just a bit shorter.”

“Rude.” Stiles couldn’t help it, his cheeks were hurting from how much he’d been smiling. This banter felt so natural. Oddly enough, so did Eli’s place between them. Derek walked Stiles to the door and inside Stiles took note of how much the space had changed since he’d been here last. Thanksgiving, specifically. Now, pictures adorned the walls and it seemed that they had almost finished unpacking.

“Here ya go,” Eli yelled from his room, opening the door and chucking two pairs of trunks towards Stiles. Derek caught them and shook his head like Stiles’ dad used to whenever he did something weird. He handed them to the spark.

“You can change in there,” Derek pointed to the bathroom. “I gotta go change as well. Do you need sunscreen?”

“Thanks! Does a wolf house have sunscreen?” Stiles asked, joking. They headed down the hall together.

“Actually, yes. Eli didn’t change until super recently. He used to get sunburns really bad. No clue where that came from,” Derek gestured at his tanned, olive skin.

“His mom, I’d assume,” Stiles answered, immediately regretting bringing up that topic. No one had ever told him anything about Eli’s mom. He wasn’t sure if she was even alive. He cringed. “sh*t-Sorry, you know me, can’t keep my mouth shut to save my life.”

Derek shook his head, and lowered his voice, “We can talk about it later.”

Stiles was surprised at the older man’s response. He didn't seem upset, just a bit uncomfortable. “O…kay.” He closed the bathroom door and shucked off his jeans. The first pair of shorts were a little too short. They fit his waist, but just left little to the imagination so to speak. The second one hit his mid-thigh but otherwise fit well. They were bright red with black hibiscus flowers on them, and he breifly wondered if Eli was going through his emo phase like Stiles did around that age. Covered his walls with horror movie decor, all time low, and my chemical romance posters, the whole thing. He never committed to the look though, preferring his normal geek chic. He kept his t-shirt on and folded his boxers and pants to put back in the Jeep.

Briefly, a zap of anxiety ran through him. He realized he and Derek had never just… hung out. Like casually or normally. The only times it’d happened were random summer days in highschool or holidays. Even then, they were never alone. Scott or someone else was always around. Eli would be swimming with them today, but that just made it even more daunting. Stiles hadn’t really been around kids much, he just hoped he could make a good impression. That Eli wasn’t terrified of the dude who dug up his dad’s body and drained the blood out of a wolf to bring him back. Stiles looked at himself in the mirror, nervously running his fingers through his hair. He decided he would just shut up and be as normal as he could, swim and ask Eli about school and sports. Normal stuff. No spark or wolf talk necessary for today. He honestly wanted to show Derek that he could be a good fit in their family. Maybe that was an overreach. He’d already missed so much of the two wolves’ lives together. It might be too late for anything Stiles was hoping for.

Derek knocked on Eli’s door when he was ready. Just wearing an old tank top and black trunks, a duffle bag full of towels and some sodas for him and Eli and a few beers in case Stiles wanted some. He thought of grabbing the six pack of wolfsbane IPA’s that Scott brought back from Santa Cruz but he figured that’d be best for an outing without his teenager with him. “You ready, skittle?”

Eli groaned and Derek chuckled. “Please no nicknames around Stiles yet,” Eli begged as he opened his bedroom door and handed his dad a bottle of spf 50.

Derek wondered briefly what Eli meant about ‘yet’, did he see Stiles as becoming a regular part of his life? To the point he wouldn’t be embarrassed about Derek’s nicknames? The thought made his heart swell. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Stiles still had a job across the country after all. The wolf just wanted to enjoy his presence while it lasted. Still, the older man beamed, “Your hearing! It’s getting better!” Derek made a mental note to talk about how Eli could filter out his hearing, and that being a werewolf wasn’t an excuse to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. But, regardless, he was just happy to see his son’s wolf becoming a more prominent part of his life.

“Yours is getting worse, since you ignored what I just said,” the teen huffed.

Derek nodded, “I’ll lay off the skittle, I promise.”

Eli thanked him and they headed out to the living room. Stiles joined them a minute later, the second pair of shorts in his hand. “The first ones were a little tight, thanks for letting me borrow these though!” Stiles smiled and handed Eli the unused trunks.

Derek nearly lost balance at the sight in front of him. He’d never seen Stiles in such short clothes. He was always shrouded in flannels, hoodies, and baggy pants. He was in swim shorts Derek bought for Eli that he’d never seen the kid wear. His t-shirt clung to his skin and it traced the outline of his lithe form. Now, his lean legs were on display and Derek felt his mouth go dry as he quickly turned his head away to not gawk.

“No problem!” Eli replied. “Can we go get some subs now?” The young wolf asked, turning to his dad.

“Yeah, let’s go. We’re taking my car, though.”

Stiles and Eli whined almost in unison about the Jeep, and Derek felt his cheeks hurting from how much it made him smile.

-

They swam the day away in comfortable ease. The Hale family swimming spot was beautiful. Stiles couldn't believe how much of the preserve the family had managed to hide away from hikers and teen partiers alike. It was a waterfall that dipped into a large pool, shrouded in red alders and maple trees that shaded the spot from the harsh summer sun. The water wasn't too cold, and Stiles swam in it eagerly. Birds flew by and water bugs danced on the surface, following the stream as it trickled down. All day Stiles tried, and failed, not to stare at Derek. His chest hair grown out and speckled with wiry gray hairs, his skin tanned and slick with water. Abs still defined, but not as chiseled, showing he'd finally let himself relax. He was gorgeous. His arms were strong as they expertly sliced through the blue water, doing ritual laps. So clear that he was familiar with the spot. Stiles wondered if bringing Eli here was hard, or if it helped Derek remember being a kid himself.

Stiles looked up, and cheered Eli on as he jumped off one of the big rocks on the edge of the waterfall and laughed at Derek's horrified expression and scream when he did so.

"He's a wolf, remember?" Stiles teased, splashing Derek with water. "I've seen you literally jump through a glass window and be fine."

"He's my kid!" Derek replied so honestly it made Stiles' chest tighten.

"Why don't you go do a flip?" Stiles asked, trying to distract the dad from his sons stunt even as he cried out gleeful cheers from where he landed in the water.

Derek got this co*cky smile on his face that reminded Stiles so much of the wolf's leather jacket, Camaro, and sunglasses era it almost gave the spark whiplash. He watched in awe as the older wolf ran up to a different spot, even higher than where Eli jumped from. The younger Hale's eyes went wide and he laughed as Stiles dramatically rolled his eyes at Derek's actions. He took off and got a running start before jumping and doing what looked like three backflips before diving perfectly into the water.

"Show off!" Stiles yelled once the wolf resurfaced, Derek flipped him off. Eli was hooting and hollering.

Derek smiled as he reached the small beach, flopping himself down and opening the cooler. "Lunch time?" He asked, waving the wrapped sandwiches around for the other men to see. He laughed as he watched them both flail in the water, trying to climb over the rocks and reach Derek. He let himself look at Stiles' chest, soft with just a patch of hair in the middle of his chest and a happy trail from his belly button dipping down below the waistband of his trunks. He was covered in moles, as Derek had always suspected. Pale and beautiful and Derek fought the thoughts in his mind that were making his gut stir. Instead, he set up a towel on the half grass half sand beneath him and handed the boys their food.

Stiles quickly unwrapped his and moaned into his Italian sub like he'd never eaten before. With his mouth full he spoke, "I forgot about Tony's, man! Mmf! So good! Can't believe I missed Beacon Hills this much!" His eyes rolled back in his head and Derek quickly looked away. How the young man could make eating with half chewed salami in your mouth hot, Derek was unaware. But it still was.

"Can I have a co*ke, dad? I'm dying of dehydration," Eli whined, making grabby hands and Derek tossed him a can.

"You two are both very dramatic," Derek noted as he began to tear into his steak and cheese.

"Says the guy who just did a Captain America level stunt off of a cliff!" Stiles gestured towards the waterfall.

"You like marvel?" Eli asked, seemingly delighted at the reference.

"Hell yeah!"

Maybe it was a habit from being a dad all these years, but Stiles had a piece of tomato stuck on his cheek and Derek didn't even think before leaning over and rubbing it off with the pad of his thumb. As soon as he did it, he froze. "Sorry, force of habit. Eli's a messier eater than you are," He said, trying to shift some of the awkward silence to any other topic. Luckily, it seemed that Eli wasn't weirded out by it at all.

"I can eat neatly, for the record, I just choose to enjoy myself and not care what other's think!" Eli demanded, opening his soda and taking a big gulp, then burping for good measure.

"Dude, same!" Stiles laughed, and again, it sounded like the songs of sparrows and chickadees in the morning. Derek felt so at peace, his wolf felt like it was purring in his chest.

The rest of the day passed easily. Eating, Stiles having a few beers and telling Derek about his FBI work. He never explained that he was on leave, fearful that Derek would blame himself if he found out why. So he just said he was taking a break for a while. Derek explained how he was really growing fond of the mechanic shop, but when Eli left for college he was thinking of selling it and maybe contracting someone to start rebuilding the old Hale house.

"Wow, dude, that'd be awesome!" Stiles said, taking a few sips of the Corona that Derek had brought. "This land, it's all you guys'. It should stay that way. Also, you have enough moula to do that and put the kid through school so I say go for it!"

"That's the plan. Eli isn't sure about school quite yet though, still has three years left."

"I wanna go to UC Santa Cruz!" The teen yelled out from the other side of the water. "I like California, don't wanna go too far!"

"We're gonna talk about not using your wolf powers to spy on conversations later," Derek said sternly, rubbing his forehead.

"You guys are talking about me! How can I not?" Eli said before heading back up to the spot he jumped from before.

Stiles laughed, and Derek looked at him with such kindness. "I like this kid, he's snarky, you need that," the spark remarked.

"I figured you would, everyone tells us all the time he seems more like you than me," Derek admitted. "Coach accidentally called him Stilinski for the first few practices."

The comment was odd, but Stiles couldn't deny the resemblance, especially now that he'd seen how clumsy and sarcastic the teen was. "He has your eyes, pale green like old lichen or sage."

Derek blushed. "My dad's eyes were the same," he responded in a quiet tone.

Never in the over 15 years Stiles knew Derek, had he ever mentioned his father. Despite his gnawing curiosity and desire to pry, he didn't. "That's sweet," was all he said before tucking into his beer again. Eli did another jump, this time a cannon ball, and Stiles watched in amusem*nt as Derek dropped his soda and ran out into the water. Stiles hated himself for the thought, but in that moment he wanted this. He wanted this forever. Hanging out and swimming and soaking in the sun with Derek, watching Eli do flips and talk about his interests. This hole in his chest that had been there for seemingly his entire life, felt like it was starting to fill up. Fill with Derek's laugh and the lamb's ear green of the Hale men's eyes, the sound of Eli's goofy laugh as his dad scolded him, and the smell of summer flowers by the waterside.

Chapter 21: What You Can't Say

Chapter Text

Derek had driven him back, given Stiles had drank a few beers, and promised to bring him back to get the Jeep tomorrow. He was seeing Derek again tomorrow! The thought, no matter how juvenile, sent a buzz of excitement through his body. He wondered if this was going to be an issue, if every time he was around Derek he’d light up like a freaking glow stick. He hoped not. Eventually, Derek would piece together Stiles’ feelings. Even if what Peter said weeks ago was true, that Derek did at one point have feelings for Stiles, there was just no guarantee that was still the case. It had been so long. And as he found out this morning, Peter wasn’t someone he could trust at all. So, Stiles could make no assumption, he’d just enjoy finally being friends with the wolf.

When he made it back to his room, he felt like he was floating. Like the weight of all his regrets and fear was just lighter. His skin, despite being lathered in sunscreen, was pink on his shoulders, cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He didn’t mind the slight pain, though. Just rubbed some Aloe on it and changed out of the wet clothes, making a note to wash the shorts before giving them back to Derek tomorrow.

He tried to occupy his mind with anything other than the movie reel playing in his mind of Derek laughing, doing flips, the sun hitting his eyes and tan skin, water dripping down his hairy, toned legs. It had been so long since Stiles had felt these jittery butterflies in his stomach. He could hardly keep his legs from bouncing underneath him.

He was just looking over his white board, making notes about the Nematon and the memories he’d seen when he’d connected with it that night he brought Derek back. Despite how natural the spark had felt in his chest, there was still some worry he had about using the Nematon again. In his book, he heard about the old druid groves; collections of trees like the Nematon used to be- where rituals and worship took place. According to the book, all trees held power but the magic in groves was unmatched. Since the Nematon had been cut down, it barely held any power compared to its former state. Stiles couldn’t even imagine how intense it was at its peak.

Stiles made notes about testing it, and thought about asking Deaton about magical barriers around the stump to cut it off and maybe, just maybe, make Beacon Hills a little less hellish for future generations. For Eli, a voice in his head reminded him. The kid had to live through insanity before Derek died, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to prevent that kid from having a high school experience anything like Stiles’ or Scott’s. A bit later, his dad knocked on the door, and Stiles called him in.

“Hey kiddo,” John said, smiling at him. He was already in his pajamas, even though it was around dinnertime.

“Hey pops, what’s up?” Stiles asked, a red marker placed in the side of his mouth as he hung up a printed page from the book onto the whiteboard.

“What’s got you in such a good mood? I haven’t heard a single sigh or groan since you got back.”

Stiles blushed a bit. “Nothin’! Just went for a swim,” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“With Derek?” The sheriff pressed. Stiles opened his mouth to explain, causing the marker to fall on the floor, but his dad continued. “I saw him drop you off.”

The spark sheepishly nodded. Next thing he knew, his dad was squeezing him in a bear hug. Stiles was confused, but let himself be smushed. “Love you,” he said, confused and muffled into his dad’s chest.

“Love you too. So you and Derek, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.” John laughed a little into his son’s ear, and gave his back a few hefty pats.

Stiles pulled away, flailing, “What do you mean?!”

The sheriff rolled his eyes, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of Stiles’ mattress. “Derek would shut down every time I mentioned your name, but he was so adamant about me calling you when all this crazy sh*t started up again. I didn’t wanna bother you. When you told me you were bi, I figured Derek was your type. Kinda mean like Lydia, had those eyebrows like Malia did, broody like his sister… that’s way too many members of the same family now that I really think about it.” John shook his head, with an amused look on his face.

“Damn,” Stiles' eyes were wide and he was thoroughly embarrassed that his dad knew him that well. He always liked them mean, nearly terrifying, and beautiful. He never bothered to unpack his type much, however.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.” His dad explained, “But, I do like Derek. He’s a good guy. But I feel like you should think about the fact that he’s also a dad now. Are you ready for that kind of responsibility?”

Stiles blushed, “Woah, Dad, I don’t even- we aren’t together. I don’t even know if he wants anything like that…” Stiles’ tone turned to melancholy as he let himself fall onto the bed next to his dad.

“He does. I’d bet a million bucks on it.”

Stiles couldn’t help the goofy grin from spreading across his face. “I hope so. And, I mean, I’ve always wanted a kid… Eli’s pretty great. I just feel bad for not being here all this time. It’s pretty late to become… whatever I’d be to him.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. If this is what you want, you need to go for it.”

Stiles leaned into his father, finding comfort in his directness, given how much he'd had to dance around his feelings the past couple of weeks. “Thanks, dad.”

“I ordered Chinese, got your favorite, it should be here in twenty. Come eat with me and Melissa and stop staring at that damn book for a little bit, okay? I'd like you to explain all this to me soon though,” John gestured towards the white board that was looking more and more like the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist as the days went on.

Stiles didn’t put up a fight. “Okay, sounds good.”

-

Derek loved Eli. He really did. But his son was driving him up the wall since they’d dropped Stiles off.

“You like Stiles! Like you like him! I didn’t know you even had the ability to do that! Also, are you gay? Is that why I don’t know my mom?” Eli yapped into Derek’s ear the entire way home. His dad tried to ignore him, but clearly that wasn’t going to work.

“Eli, please, I’m begging you. Leave this alone. We’re just old friends. I haven’t seen him in a really long time.”

Eli laughed loudly, “Old friends? That’s the best you can do?! You were friggin’ staring at him all day! I saw you blush! And you smelled weird- I know I don’t know much about chemosignals yet and I’m scared to know if you smelled horny. Ew, that’s so gross Dad!” The young wolf’s face twisted in disgust.

Derek wanted to slam his own head into the steering wheel. Or run himself into a tree. “Eli,” he pleaded, desperation clear in his tone.

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up. But, just so you know, I like Stiles. I fully support you two being boyfriends or lovers or whatever! He likes marvel, he was in the FBI, and he does black magic, that’s so f*ckin’cool!”

“Elijah! Language!” Derek barked.

“Sorry!” His son fell back, the use of his full name striking fear.

Derek huffed as he pulled into their driveway. “Please keep this to yourself, I don’t want anyone knowing about this,” he succeeded.

“So you do like him!!” Eli hooted, pumping his fist in the air. Derek flashed his red eyes at his son, and the beta calmed down and settled back into his seat. “Got it, no discussing your love life.”

“Thank you. Go shower and clean your room, it’s a mess. We can watch your show after dinner. You should get started on your last summer reading book for English, too.”

“I miss fun Dad from earlier today,” Eli teased. Derek shot him another glare and his son laughed. “I’ll do it all.” They walked up to the house together, Derek carrying the duffle bag and cooler from their swim day. Eli opened the door for him, but first he turned to his dad and, with sincerity in his tone said, “I just want you to be happy, Dad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier around anyone besides me than you did with Stiles today.”

Derek felt embarrassed at his son’s words but didn’t say anything. He just thanked Eli and headed inside. Eli went to his room and Derek went to his, the older wolf sat down and sunny images painted the backs of his eyelids. Stiles’ wet hair dripping onto his face, his bright laugh, his eyes glowing in the sun, dark moles against milky skin. He groaned into his palms but couldn’t help smiling. His wolf was clawing in his chest, clearly upset Stiles was no longer around. He looked outside and saw the Jeep parked next to his FJ Cruiser. He changed out of his wet clothes and into sweatpants and a black hoodie. He heard the shower running and Eli signing along to his speaker as Derek walked past the hallway. He opened and closed the door as quietly as he could, headed outside to the driveway.

Derek opened the Jeep door and hopped in, heart beating loud and fast. He opened the console and a sigh of relief left his lips. The envelope was still there, thank god. He grabbed it and as the scent filled his nose, a jolt of anxiety stabbed his gut. Pictures spilled onto his lap, and the wolf could smell Stiles’ fingers on the paper. He’d seen it, and no doubt seen Derek’s favorite of the stack. He looked at the worn, well-loved photograph of Stiles and Derek in their twenties. He raised it to his nose, immediately recognizing the scent of cigarettes and green apple soap. f*ck.

-

Stiles eagerly shoved his last egg roll into his mouth after drowning it in duck sauce, watching amusedly as his dad and Melissa tried not to flirt in front of him. “Thanks for dinner, guys. I do have a big boy job, so why don’t we go out for dinner sometime this week? Maybe Scott can come?” Stiles asked, swallowing his food and chasing it with raspberry tea.

Melissa nodded, “That'd be great. I haven’t seen much of my son since Allison came back, can’t blame him though.” She had a wistful look on her face. Stiles couldn’t imagine how odd this was for her. She was the one who comforted Scott when Allison died all those years ago, when Scott couldn’t even look at Stiles without seeing the Nogitsune stabbing him and twisting the blade in his gut. She went to the girl's funeral. Dated Chris for a while, and no doubt helped him with his grief as well.

“I’d like to see her too, but it would be good for just all of us to hangout. It’s been a long time.”

John agreed, and told Stiles he didn’t have to help clean up. Melissa’s bashful smile was enough for the young man to not pry and leave the two of them alone. He put his plate in the sink then headed back upstairs without a fight. If Derek and Stiles were a slow burn, his dad and Melissa were a snail’s pace. Scott and Stiles had been trying to set them up since the boys were like eleven years old. Stiles knew his dad though, it took him a very long time to move on after his mom died. Part of Stiles thought he never would, and part of him didn’t want his dad dating anyone else. Unless it was Melissa- because, duh. But, Stiles briefly wondered if Eli felt that way about Derek. Wanting your parent’s attention all to yourself is normal. Stiles was so worried about disrupting the two guys’ relationship.

He opened his bedroom door and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight. A shadowy figure was sitting on his couch, eyes glowing blue in the dark, he switched on the light and groaned loudly. “Peter."

Chapter 22: Lucid

Chapter Text

Peter sat on Stiles’ roof for nearly a half hour, looking out at the last remaining light of the sun as it set behind the trees, listening to the spark ramble on with food stuffed in his mouth downstairs in the dining room. The wolf’s heart tugged when Stiles laughed at his dad’s terrible jokes.

He thought of that morning, being slammed into a wall by his nephew, threatened by Stiles swinging around a metal bat up. That didn’t really bother him. The only reason he was here was because of the tears that bubbled in Stiles’ eyes that morning; How heart broken he’d looked. Stiles may not like it, but it was obvious he still cared for Peter in some way. And the wolf was never one to back down easily. Still, he couldn't ignore the smell Derek and Eli that hung in the air of Stiles’ bedroom and from this, Peter knew that they’d all spent the day together. He wondered if it would ever be possible for him to be around them all.

The past few years, he’d warmed up to Eli and Derek quite a bit. Even if Peter would deny it, losing his nephew did take a toll on him emotionally. Derek had been the only thing present in his life, unchanging since he was young. Peter loved him, but since he'd been in the coma... he just was never the same. Derek noticed that, and after being an alpha, their relationship never got close to what it once was. Peter knew that was his own fault. Still, since Eli had been around, Peter went to lacrosse games, spent some holidays with them, bought the kid gifts, the stuff that he knew his sister would've done if she was alive. Still, there was always this wound, this separation that told Peter he wasn’t welcome any closer than that. He realized now, Stiles’ approval was probably a large reason for that degree of separation. Stiles was, despite Peter’s desire, Derek’s mate. It would be him, and only him, that could repair this now. Peter knew he was f*cked.

-

“Calm down, I’m not here to fight,” Peter quipped. He looked so casual, legs crossed and head resting on the pillows of Stiles’ couch.

The spark rolled his eyes, “I miss D.C sometimes, people didn’t climb in through my windows without asking!” He retorted, waving his arms in the air and letting them flop down to his sides, showing his exhaustion.

Peter laughed, “If I asked, you would’ve said no.” Even though he said it like a joke, it was clear that the truth behind his words hurt him.

“How astute. Now leave,” The younger man demanded. Peter stood up and instinctively, Stiles took a step back. A flash of sadness spread across Peter’s face, and it almost made Stiles feel bad. Almost.

Peter reached into his jacket and pulled out a small book, it had a tattered dyed green leather cover with a golden Celtic knot embellishment on the front. He offered it to Stiles. “I told you I’d look for anything to help you with your spark. I wanted to keep my promise.”

Stiles grabbed the book, hesitant but still curious. “You didn’t hex this, did you?” He asked, accusatory. He shook it, expecting to see herbs or poison fly out, he even sniffed the pages for the smell of arsenic or rat poison.

The wolf ran his fingers through his hair. “No, Stiles, I didn’t hex it. I have no reason to do that. You made it clear I have no chance. And, to be clear, I wanted you alive- not dead.”

Stiles flipped through the pages, surprised to find it was in English. Still, it was handwritten, not printed. There was no publication date or author to be found. It looked old, maybe from the late 1800s. “Okay… Well, thanks. I still want you to leave. This doesn’t make up for trying to f*ck up me and Derek’s lives.”

Peter nodded. “I just thought, with Derek and Eli, it wasn’t guaranteed you two are gonna be together.” He ran his fingers through his hair, more anxious than Stiles had ever seen the man behave.

Stiles laughed, hurt clear in his tone. “It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want me, you lied to me. I trusted you! Everyone told me not to! But I gave you the benefit of the doubt and you lied to me!” His eyes were starting to water, but he fought back the tears.

Peter reached his hand out, but Stiles moved away again. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and selfish.”

The spark scoffed, then remembered that morning. “What did Derek mean when he said he could’ve gone feral?”

Peter shook his head, “You’ll have to ask him about that. I can’t tell you.”

“Dude, c’mon you owe me,” Stiles pressed.

Peter sighed, “Do you know about mates?”

Stiles thought about his research. “Yeah, it’s like werewolf marriage. You bite each other, then you’re bonded... you aren't about to bite me are you?”

“That’s normal mates. You should look into true mates,” Peter explained, and it was clear this topic was making him angry. His jaw was clenched and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Elaborate,” Stiles deadpanned.

“If a wolf has a fated mate, and doesn’t claim them. They risk going feral. It’s like losing an anchor, only worse, because a mate can’t be replaced.”

Stiles huffed, sitting back down onto his bed. He needed more information, but he couldn’t get any from the wolf in front of him. Surely, Peter would twist the narrative into something. He was always an unreliable narrator, just like Stiles thought when he told him of Derek’s first love. Of how his eyes turned blue. “Please leave, Peter.”

The older wolf nodded and went back out the open window. He paused for a minute, top half of his body still inside while his legs stood on the roof. “I never wanted to lose you. I’ve never… had feelings like this. I acted rashly, I really am sorry. I love you, Stiles."

Anger coursed through Stiles’ body and he pulled his gun from under his pillow. He thought of Derek, unable to turn back into his human form- wandering the woods on all fours like Malia had for years until someone shot him or he died; in the woods, cold and alone. Stiles thought of Eli, having to move in with Scott and Allison, knowing he got his dad back from the dead only to lose him again. Stiles aimed the glock at Peter. “I wanted to care about you! I did care about you! And you lied!” His bottom lip was trembling and he could feel tears burning in his eyes. “I risked everything in my life, to trust you!”

Peter didn’t try to argue.

“If you ever f*ck with me or Derek or Eli again, I will load this with silver and wolfsbane and I’ll make sure you never come back,” Stiles barked, but his voice was shaking and his throat was swelling up with anxiety. He didn’t even move his finger towards the trigger. Deep down, he knew he could never hurt Peter. Not again.

Peter was gone before Stiles could turn off the safety. The spark was embarrassed to admit it, but he felt his heart break a little as he heard the werewolf’s boots slam onto the grass out front. His hands were shaking and he put the gun away. He crumpled into a ball on the floor, and let himself cry. It was an odd thing, crying over Peter f*cking Hale, but that’s where Stiles was at right now. Part of him wanted to forgive Peter, but knowing what he risked just for a chance… it couldn’t happen any time soon. Still, he thought of Peter carrying his wasted self through the cobblestone streets in Mexico, defending him to Scott and the entire pack, Stiles even remembered fondly Peter just laughing at Stiles’ jokes. The spark trusted him, he’d put his reputation on the line for Peter because he really did believe the wolf had grown, had changed for the better. Maybe he still had, in some twisted way. The old Peter couldn’t have cared about anyone enough to do something as idiotic as what he did to Derek. Stiles believed that Peter realized he f*cked up. The spark just couldn’t bring himself to believe Peter would never try something like that again.

So, Stiles stood up and locked the windows.

As he did so, he looked out over the dark woods and street, lit only by the flickering light of a streetlamp a couple of houses down. As he settled into bed for the night, this loneliness crept around his body. When he closed his eyes, he only thought of Derek, wishing more than anything that he could bury his face into the wolf's chest and hear the gentle thumping of his heart. Stiles thought of what Derek had told him earlier in the day, that he wanted to rebuild the old Hale house. Stiles' mind wandered into daydream scenarios of the two of them, covered in paint and wood stain as they worked on the house. He thought of Eli running around the yard, practicing lacrosse with Scott. Stiles felt at ease as he finally fell asleep.

-

The ground was wet and dark, littered with broken branches and fallen leaves. Stiles looked up and saw only the shrouded light of the moon peeking through thick cloud cover. He walked around, scared in the dark forest all alone. In front of him, jutting out of his chest like a beacon, was a beam of glittering light. He followed it through the dark, spinning around trees, running down slippery hills, jumping over fallen trees. He followed it until he was out of breath.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the light was gone. In the distance, he heard the thump of bass, and the chatter of people all talking at once. As he turned, he saw a big house standing tall and proud in a clearing in the woods. Warm orange light poured from the windows, and red oil lamps decorated the porch that was swallowed with wisteria. Moths and other bugs fluttered around the house excitedly. Stiles nervously headed towards the door.

He found himself inside, drifting above the party like a ghost. He couldn't recognize anyone inside, they just looked like shadows with dark hair and warm laughs. The house was beautiful, with wooden floors and tall ceilings. It smelled like cinnamon, nutmeg, and whisky. As he floated up the stairs, he saw Derek and Peter in a hallway together. They were laughing and Peter's arm was swung around his nephew's shoulder. Stiles smiled.

-

Derek laid in bed that night, exhausted, but unable to sleep. Despite all the sh*t with Peter that morning, swimming all day, making dinner and watching shows with Eli until the teen sleepily headed to his room, Derek was restless. He tossed and turned, limbs feeling like they were buzzing with energy he couldn't let out.

He stared up at the black ceiling, but all he saw was a warped image of Stiles. Younger than he was now but older than he’d been in most of Derek’s memories. He was holding a newborn Eli in his arms, rocking the little wolf back and forth in the old chestnut rocking chair that Derek’s mom used to have. It was pressed up against the window, the room was dim, and all Derek could see was where the moonlight hit the edges of Stiles’ pale face and Eli’s baby blue blanket. Stiles and Eli both looked up at him, eyes glowing gold and smiles on their faces.

Derek remembered watching Talia and some of his cousins in that chair, holding babies and rocking them to sleep upstairs and away from the music and laughter of Hale family parties. Usually with only the little moon night light on, and the bubbling sound of the humidifier in the corner. Derek remembered looking at Cora through the bars of her crib, watching her little fat fingers grab for him, and laughing as her eyes tracked the circling movements of the mobile that was decorated with stars, clouds, and flowers. The nursery was never renovated into a guest room or anything else, even after Cora got to be older. Talia always said she’d keep it just as it was, for whenever they had kids. Derek remembered the last time he’d been in there, one of his older cousins had just had her first baby girl and Derek watched from the doorway as his mom and dad cooed over Novie’s big brown eyes. Peter had nudged him on the arm and said it wouldn’t be long before he was the one making goofy faces and carrying around diaper bags. Derek protested, he was only 16! Still, he had smiled and thought of Paige, and hoped their kids had her same cute little mole beneath their eyes.

Tears fell down Derek’s cheeks without him even realizing, he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking about this right now. The vision of Stiles in that chair, it was almost like a memory, but Derek knew logically it wasn’t real. It was some desperate dream. Something he wanted so terribly, but knew he could never have. Then, he looked over to his bedside table and curiously opened the drawer, pleasantly surprised to find the weed he’d confiscated from Eli earlier in the year still tucked away behind his journal. Derek grabbed the joint, opened his window and hopped out into the yard. He lit it and watched the pale smoke flow into the hot summer air. Weed was something he hadn’t really done much of, never had the time. But, when he and Laura lived in the city they’d smoke quite a bit. It was one of the few drugs that actually worked on wolves, but it had a bit less of an intense effect than it would for humans. He mostly used it to sleep. As he inhaled, he felt his tears dry up. He took a few tokes before snubbing it out and climbing back into his room.

Finally, his eyelids began to feel heavy as he drifted off into what he could only hope, was a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 23: Anathema

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes, his eyes were barely open as he wandered downstairs. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed, still clad in pajama pants and the black top his ex gave him that had a little red heart in the middle and was cropped, exposing the low ring of his belly. He rubbed the soft skin there and yawned as swung around the corner at the end of the stairs. His eyes bugged out as he saw Scott, Isaac, Allison, and Cora, all in his living room.

“Hey…” he said, ducking his head and scratching at his hair, pulling his shirt down a bit in embarrassment. He’d begun to dress a little more… well, gay, in the past few years but he was unsure of how his old friends would feel about it. They only really saw him in work clothes or dressed up for the few holidays he'd attended.

“We said we’d talk. It’s been enough time,” Scott stated. His uneven jaw was clenched and he seemed on edge.

“Dad, did you have anything to do with this? Luring me into conversation with breakfast?!” Stiles yelled out and his dad apologized, but came into the living room with a plate for Stiles, then headed out to work, pinning his badge back onto his uniform.

Stiles sighed and went to sit in the dining room, the pack followed him as he stuffed his face. “What's up?” He asked as he took a bite of bacon.

Isaac rolled his eyes, “You brought Derek back from the dead, dude. I feel like that warrants a conversation or two.”

Stiles laughed, he’d missed Isaac’s snark a little, but once the spark saw the dejected look on Cora’s face he felt bad. “Yeah, I did. I had to.”

“What do you mean, had to?” Scott pressed.

“I mean I had to. You guys clearly weren’t doing anything about it, so I took matters into my own hands.” Stiles grumbled into his pancakes, shoving a syrupy piece into his mouth and licking the maple off his lips.

“It wasn’t just your hands,” Cora cut in, clearly referencing her uncle.

“You all were right about that…” He looked down, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have trusted Peter. It’s just, he’s brought himself back from the dead so I figured he was a good person to start with. I knew you and Lydia wouldn’t even try to help me,” Stiles said, gesturing to Scott. “He’s not in the picture any more.”

“Well yeah, you can’t just do death magic casually, man!” Scott said.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “You can if it's for Allison, right?”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because she meant more to you than Derek? Even though he’s the one who's been here supporting you and the pack the entire time she was dead?” Stiles couldn’t help but sneer. It wasn’t lost on him just how much the pack didn’t appreciate Derek, Stiles included. His presence was never given as much value as other people, despite him being the only reason Scott didn’t go feral. Despite always being around to help if he could.

“No, because she was stuck in bardo, she wasn’t at peace! We saved her,” Scott said, loudly, but it was clear he was trying at least a little to not yell. Isaac put a hand on the Alpha’s shoulder.

“This doesn’t seem like it's going anywhere,” Isaac remarked.

Stiles sighed, calming the anger building underneath his skin. “What do you guys actually want to know? Or did you just come here to judge me for something I can’t, and won’t, undo.”

Scott huffed and sat down at the chair next to Stiles, followed by Isaac and Cora. “Peter said you’re a spark, that you’re magic, how did that happen?” The alpha asked, looking at Stiles with those big puppy dog eyes Stiles always found impossible to be mad at. He took the time to notice how much his friend had changed. He buzzed his hair, and seemed to be sporting a new nostril piercing as well. It was so weird but he looked foreign to the memories Stiles had. That must be how all of them feel about Stiles, as well. If not more-so.

“I guess bringing Derek back triggered the… spark in me. It’s always been there, Deaton said he knew when he met me but he knew I “valued my humanity” and didn’t want to see me lose my chance at a normal life or something.” His disdain for the druid was clear in his tone. “It’s kinda f*cked up he didn’t even give me the choice. I could’ve saved people.” Scott and Isaac nodded at those words, like Stiles’ actions were finally starting to sink in and make sense.

“You’re not human?” Cora interjected, eyebrows twisted together as she clearly began to sniff the air, looking for any new scent that Stiles may have. It almost made Stiles laugh, he remembered Derek doing the same thing yesterday. It was something only the born wolves seemed to do that often.

“I’m human, mostly, I guess. Everything I’ve read says that sparks have a kind of uh faerie magic. I could have it from genetics.” Stiles felt so uncomfortable. Like a bug under a hot magnifying glass with elementary kids staring, poking, and prodding him.

“You love Derek?” Isaac asked so bluntly.

Stiles felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Like he’d just been punched. Scott and Isaac’s eyes were burning holes into his skin. “Why does that matter?” He barked.

“It doesn’t,” Cora answered, growling quietly at her boyfriend.

“Sorry, I was just curious.” Isaac shrank into his chair. “It would make all this make a lot more sense.”

Scott sighed and reached out to grab Stiles’ hand. Stiles let the wolf touch him. Even if he was mad, Scott’s comfort always made him feel better. “Are you okay? My mom said you looked like hell when you came back that night.”

Stiles nodded. “I’m fine now. It just took a lot out of me. I’m sorry for freaking out. And, I promise, I never wanted to get Eli involved in all this… I was just desperate.” He tried not to cry, he’d had too much of that lately. The room hung in awkward silence for a few beats. The only noise was the faint hum of his neighbor mowing their lawn next door.

“Sorry for saying you weren’t you… you just looked so different.” Scott shook his head, clearly remembering the sight of Stiles, covered in blood up to his elbows with glowing veins and eyes.

“It’s scary for me too, man,” he said honestly, voice shaking a bit. “And even if you don’t believe me, I had no choice. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Derek die…” Scott stirred uncomfortably in his seat, making Stiles realize those words must’ve made the alpha feel pretty terrible. “Sorry,” he squeaked.

“Do you think he’d mind if we stopped by?” Cora asked, and Stiles noticed her fingers interlaced with Isaac’s.

The spark shook his head. “I think he’d be happy to see you guys.” That was all it took for the two betas to get up and head out, Isaac even gave Stiles an awkward pat on the back before following his girlfriend out the door. At that moment, Stiles was thankful that Cora never lingered anywhere. Scott, however, was firmly planted in the wooden chair; clearly still trying to make sense of all of this. Stiles just finished up his breakfast.

“You love Derek, huh?” Scott coughed out as if it pained him.

Stiles didn’t fight this time. Just nodded, sheepishly. He didn’t know why this was so embarrassing for him to admit. Derek was amazing, looked like a Greek god, so strong and stern. He surely had people falling at his feet for just a scrap of attention. It wasn’t anything to do with Derek. It was just… weird. It’s the reason he’d never told anyone about his high school crush, either, especially Scott.

“Since when? I’m not judging- I swear! I just… you guys always seemed to kinda be annoyed with each other.” The cogs in the alpha’s head were turning fast and hard, Stiles was sure if he let this go any longer, steam and smoke would begin to pour out of his friends’ ears.

Stiles hunched over and ran his fingers through his hair. “A long time. I just didn’t really realize it until recently.”

Scott looked at him, head tilted. “How does that work?”

The spark huffed, “I guess I always liked him. I cared about him more than I let on…” Stiles looked down at the hardwood beneath him, feeling red blush creep up his chest and onto his cheeks. “I think I was terrified of him, of what it would mean to tell him or tell anyone how I felt. I never thought there’d be any chance he felt the same. Then he… died. It all exploded,” he admitted.

Scott leaned closer, putting his hand on Stiles’ arm and rubbing it softly. “It’s okay.” His soft expression and his pity-filled eyes let the spark know that Scott finally understood why this all happened. And more importantly, that he didn’t blame Stiles for how insane he’d been acting. A heavy weight was lifted off the spark’s shoulder and he smiled at Scott.

-

Derek dropped Eli off at his friends’ house early that morning, promising to be back the next morning and that he’d come get him at any time if he wanted.

“Love you, dad. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Eli reached over the center console and gave Derek a tight hug, his fingers twisting in the canvas material of his dad’s Carhartt.

“Love you too, skittle,” Derek said as he pulled away and unlocked the car door. He watched Eli hop out and run up to the house. Derek drove away quickly, upset he couldn’t wait to make sure his son got inside safely. He wasn’t sure how they were going to handle this whole coming back from the dead thing. Clearly, the community was aware he died. There was a f*cking funeral. He couldn’t just show back up dropping Eli off or cheering him on at games. He hoped he didn’t have to, but the more they talked about it, the more it seemed like he and Eli might have to leave Beacon Hills for a while. Especially since Derek realized Eli would be the only one able to do simple things like grocery shopping, talking to customers at the auto shop, all the things Derek used to do.

Derek sighed, thankful the windows of his car were tinted dark enough that he didn’t have to worry about people seeing him driving around town. He didn’t want Eli to have to lie about his life like this. The current story was that Eli was staying with Scott but that wouldn’t hold up. He wanted nothing more than to rebuild the old Hale house, to let Eli have as normal of a childhood as possible. The kid liked California, had friends here, Derek didn’t want to take him away from all these things he loved. Still, it seemed like that dream was further out of reach than he’d like.

He drove to the old house. Parked outside and stared at it. His eyes tracing the familiar shapes of the porch, the broken windows, crumbling stone chimney. In the morning light, it looked like a monument. Derek got out of his car and walked inside. His footsteps creaked as he walked across the unstable floors. Its decaying gray wood, slowly getting swallowed by the forest around it; bloomed with ivy and saplings cracking through the floorboards.

-

"Derek! Hurry up! We're gonna be late!" Talia yelled from the living room.

Derek groaned and shoved his hoodie on over top of his uniform. He looked around the room, making sure he didn't forget anything. He yelled back that he was coming, and ran quickly down the hallways, sliding past Laura and nearly trampling over Cora. She began to fall over so he grabbed her and held her against his chest as he stumbled down the stairs. She laughed, showing her gapped tooth fangs as she grabbed onto him and squeaked.

"Careful, Der," His dad grumbled, stealing his daughter back and rolling his eyes at his teenage son. His father was a mountain of a man, around 6'5 and nearly 260 pounds with most of his skin covered in Celtic tattoos. He had a thick beard and long hair that hung around his shoulders. Cora looked like a doll in his arms, her hands covering most of her body as he held her even though she was a little over 4 feet tall now.

"Sorry, dad, are you coming to the game?" Derek asked as he grabbed his duffel bag from where it hung by the door.

"Yes, we'll all be there once you start," His dad promised, smiling. The large scar across his cheek making his smile downturned on one side.

"Peter?" Derek asked, looking around for his uncle.

"Wouldn't miss it!" The wolf said from the living room where he sat reading with Derek's little brother, Elijah.

"Thanks guys! It's the semi-finals so wish me luck! And please, for the love of god, don't embarrass me." With a family this big, their collective screaming tended to drown out even the cheerleaders on the sidelines. Especially when his dad and the cousins came.

"Why? Is your little girlfriend gonna be there?" Ben, his dad, joked, nudging Derek's shoulder and laughing with his deep baritone, so low that it practically made the floorboards buzz.

"Not my girlfriend, just a friend. Because, as you all have told me a million times, I can't date humans," Derek said with an angsty teen huff and eye roll.

Talia came up behind him, pulling her purse up onto her shoulder, wrapping her other arm around Derek and giving him a half-hug. "You can...eventually, just not while you're this young, Derek. Our secret must-"

"Must be kept a secret," he parroted, "I know, Mom."

She laughed and scruffed up his hair. "Then there's nothing to discuss. Let's head out." She parted from her son and walked over to her husband, still holding Cora in his arms, now though, she was hung up by her ankles and giggling loudly as her dad swung her around. Talia shook her head in faux disapproval and let out a raspy laugh, kneeling down to give her youngest daughter a kiss on the forehead before standing up to kiss Ben as well. "We'll see you there." She waved in front of the couch, "C'mon, Elijah."

The little boy ran away from where he was playing with toys on the floor. He was a scrawny kid, looked a bit more like Peter than the other siblings. He had big honey-brown eyes and curly brunette hair. He was the youngest of all the Hale siblings, only about 5. Even at that age, he still hadn't spoke. They were unsure if he wa mute or if he was just having some delayed speech. He was able to hear, and he'd often write them notes and pass them to people. Derek kept one of them tucked into his wallet. A drawing of all of the siblings with their parents, and underneath it was surprisingly neat handwriting 'Eli's family.'

Derek opened the door for his mom and brother and they left, headed towards the car.Derek hoped he always would remember how loud it was there. How you could always hear music and chattering and laughter, even when you were yards away from the house. That day was one of the last days before the house would be cursed forever with eery silence.

-

Derek crouched down and sat in the shadows, like he used to all those years ago. He watched the dust glittering in the air. Followed its spiraling path like falling snow. It smelled like rot and earth. He squeezed his palms, anxiously. He tried not to hear the echoes of screams and cries that he always did when he came here. He walked outside, to the old family plot. With a small trowel, he scraped off the lichen and moss on the graves. He ran his fingers over the engravings. Thinking of his father's lopsided grin, Elijah's ringlet curls, and the smell of hair dye clogging the air of Laura and Cora's shared bathroom.

The wolf had only brought his son here once or twice, and the visits had been short. He didn’t want the kid to think about the tragedy of their family too much. More than that, he didn’t want Eli to see how much it still hurt Derek to be here. It’s part of why he wanted so badly to fix this place up. Build something beautiful in its place and maybe, just maybe, bring some peace to this scarred land. When he envisioned it, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t cut Stiles out of those daydreams. He saw the spark bouncing around in the kitchen, running around in the yard, falling asleep in a sprawl of limbs in the library.

It was just a dream, though. In this place, the truth of the matter was his blood was plagued with some biblical stain. Eli was the only shred of light Derek would be allotted in this life. Bringing Stiles into it was just too risky. If he died because he got too close, Derek knew he’d pass soon after. Mates were like that. Eli would be left alone again. And before he knew it, the kid would be pacing around these haunted hallways too.

Derek could beg and plead, and part of him wanted to; that part of him that had paws and fangs and black spots on his tongue. Still, he couldn't make Stiles love him. This curse he had, it still lived on. Clear as day in this place, burnt hair and skin still stained the basem*nt. Mold grew in its foundation. His death made it clear this wasn’t going anywhere. His family crest tattooed on his back would prove this. Eli had to be the exception, Derek had dedicated his life to it. Stiles still had a choice. Derek was sure he couldn’t let the man choose a family with this thick anathema that clung to the name ‘Hale’.

-

When Derek got home, he was surprised to see a silver truck in his driveway. He didn't recognize it, so he parked slowly and sniffed the air to see if he could recognize it. The air was thick with humidity, and clouds were hanging over his head. Rain always made his nose less useful. But then, a whiff of rose and coconut, Cora. He ran up to the house and saw a familiar head of blonde curls next to his sister. They were sitting on the swing on his porch, clearly waiting for his arrival. He waved awkwardly as he climbed the small stairs.

Cora ran up to him, hugging him harshly and quickly before pulling away. Isaac just waved back, avoiding eye contact. "You weren't gonna tell me you're back from the f*ckin' dead?" Cora snapped at him. She was just the same as he remembered, pissed off and sporting blonde streaks. Derek was, however, a bit surprised to notice a mark on her neck. Pink and healed. It would've barely been noticeable if she hadn't been wearing a thin strapped tank top.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were even around. I'm happy to see you," he answered honestly. Looking at her made him feel better about the doom he'd been so fixated on earlier. "You too, Isaac."

Isaac, again shocking Derek, wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Glad you're not dead," he whispered before pulling away.

Derek opened the door and gestured for them to come in. He followed them and the group gathered in the living room. He noticed the smell of autumn orchards, faint on their skin. They must've seen Stiles today. Derek cursed himself, and remembered he needed to go drive the Jeep over after this. "So, you two are together... and you had a mating ritual?" Despite being protective of Cora, he couldn't deny he was a bit happy it was Isaac that she'd chosen. And that, despite her constant complaining when she was little that mating was gross, she'd kept the tradition. Derek's own wolf stirred a bit seeing the matching mark on Isaac's neck, and he knew what it was trying to tell him, the image of his teeth marks on Stiles' neck... that was something he couldn't let himself entertain.

"Yup," Cora said bluntly.

"It wasn't anything crazy," Isaac clarified. "We were a part of a pack, out in New Mexico, for a bit. Our emissary told us about it and we thought it was about time," Isaac said, big blue eyes wide with love as he looked over at his mate. "But we figured if we were gonna settle down, it might be nice to do it with family." Isaac's voice quivered at those words, avoiding looking at Derek but the older wolf knew what he was asking. Derek hadn't even considered his place as an alpha again. Could he have a pack? What about Scott? The thought was confusing.

Derek got up and hugged his sister again. Tightly. "Mom and Dad would be so happy," he said, trying to fight the tears that were stinging like cayenne in the back of his throat. The girl made a surprised noise, but hugged him back. Derek held out his hand, gesturing Isaac to join. They all stood there, closer than they'd been in over a decade. Derek could feel his wolf panting happily in his chest.

"Thanks," She said, hazel eyes glassy with tears she was trying to hold back as well.

Chapter 24: Silent Autumn

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Stiles moved with Lydia to Washington D.C and officially began his FBI job, leaving his Jeep at Derek's house. The wolf spent the early autumn working at his mechanic shop. He didn’t want to hire helpers, so he spent most of his time in the shop alone with music playing softly out of an old speaker he hung up on the wall. His jeans were permanently stained with oil and the smell of grease never fully left his fingers, no matter how many times he washed his hands. Even when he’d finished a job, he started tinkering on that old Jeep. It was tedious work. It took him hours just to pry off all the duct tape Stiles had wrapped and stuffed on every loose screw or rusted out joint. After that, he pulled out all the parts that were unusable, making notes on what he needed to replace.

The more Derek worked on it, the closer to Stiles he felt. He found crumbs of weed under the floor mats, which made him laugh. He’d never noticed the boy smelling like smoke but it made sense; Stiles was always buzzing with energy, it made sense that he would want to calm down like that. Derek also found an old notebook, mostly with notes from classes. He could see in them how sporadic the boy’s brain worked, he’d written a few bullet points about the war of 1812 followed immediately by poorly done drawings of Derek’s beta form with arrows pointing to his eyebrows labeled ‘where do they go???’

The rest of the pack was still around, he’d seen them every so often but it was just… different. The air had changed, and Derek felt that he wasn’t needed any more. Scott and Malia moved into an apartment downtown closer to the community college they were both taking classes at, then there were just all these new teenage wolves, chimeras, and pack members that Derek barely knew. He found himself thinking often of Cora, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, even Jackson. The guilt of losing the pack he made came back to haunt him with vengeance, though it never really left. He never thought he’d miss those times, they’d been so full of bloodshed and fear. Still, this monotony seemed somehow more greuling. Despite being in Scott’s pack, technically, he felt like a stranger. On top of that Beacon Hills became quiet, oddly so. Even when it wasn’t, Scott had grown into the position where he could handle most disputes with the hunters by himself, at most asking Chris for help. Derek would hate to admit it, but the boredom was taking a toll on him.

He spent more and more of his free time on four paws. He’d work on old engines and smashed bumpers during the day and as soon as night hit, he’d strip and run to the forest. On this particular night, he’d finished switching out the Jeep’s engine, and went for a run. He went on his normal route and passed through the drying autumn leaves that fell cold on the forest floor of the preserve. His long tongue panted into the chilled air and the wagging of his thick black tail had felt more natural than the sweat on his tan skin or the stretch of his standing back. The trot of four legs became familiar and calm, he ran eagerly through the shallow creeks and to the points of cliffs to watch the light of the stars at night.

Derek spent so much time out here, like he was trying to find something hidden behind one of the thousands of trees. Endlessly searching. Really, he was tired. All these years of fighting and constant paranoia; he hadn’t let himself settle. Even now, with a house, a stable job, and a lack of current villains trying to kill him; he couldn’t rest. He’d busied his time with work and running. But at night when he’d finally crawl into bed and curl into a comfortable ball of black fur, his bones ached and weariness plagued him. It was hard to get up, to switch back to two feet and thumbs and put on his work clothes. His limbs felt burdensome, his feet like lead. He found himself looking for his tail in his peripheral vision. Being a man, being ‘Derek Hale’ had no meaning to him anymore. No real pack, no real purpose, just passing time.

Derek thought he was alone in those woods, until he heard the faint beat of someone’s heart. Their footsteps cracked the ground underneath them. The wolf lowered his body, quickly padding over to hide in the thick shrubbery of a serviceberry bush, hoping he could just stay out of sight and avoid anyone noticing him. As the person neared the overlook, Derek recognized who it was.

Deaton was walking towards him with purpose, wearing a thick coat and hiking boots. Derek could smell Scott’s scent on the fabric, and a pang of worry struck him.

“Derek? I know you’re here, I’d like to speak with you,” the vet spoke.

The wolf huffed and crept out of his hiding spot. He didn’t turn back, just walked over to the older man and sat down on the grass.

Deaton seemed annoyed that he stayed a wolf, rubbing his forehead and sighing, “Scott told me he hasn’t seen you in two weeks. There’s been reports of wolf howls and sightings of paw prints in the paper. You need to be more cautious.”

Derek shook his head as well as he could in this form. He didn’t care about that, he knew how to stay out of sight. He couldn’t give up this time, it was the only thing keeping him from going crazy.

“You’ve spent more time like this than you have human lately?” Derek nodded. Deaton looked worried, or annoyed, Derek couldn’t really tell. “If you don’t turn back, you’ll get stuck,” Deaton huffed. “Think about Malia.”

If he could’ve rolled his eyes, he would’ve. That was a completely different situation than the one Derek was in. Derek knew he had to change back eventually. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Things were simpler in his wolf form. They made sense. He could hide easily, spend all day chasing his dinner, licking the meat off a deer’s bones, sleeping more comfortably in a pile of leaves and moss than he did with soft pajama pants and silk sheets.

“When you do, you should think about what’s driven you to do this…” Deaton paused, sinking down to his knees and letting himself be at eye level with Derek. “You know, your mom did the same thing when your dad got into his accident. She didn’t think he’d make it. That whole time, I never spoke with her. But I could hear her howls all the way from the clinic…” Deaton shook his head, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and standing up to walk away.

He knew about his dad’s injury, it happened before Derek was born. He remembered Ben with that thick purplish white scar that cut down his face. Every time Derek would ask what happened, his dad wouldn’t explain. He’d just say ‘you should see the other guy’ then laugh it off. But Derek also remembered the way Talia’s breath would hitch and her hands would instinctively raise to her own scar; the perfect bite mark on the crook of her neck from their mating ceremony, the careful way she’d trace the mark with her fingers. His dad would always hold her and kiss her, and that was enough for Derek to not press any further on it. But what did that have to do with anything? It was just a coping mechanism that he shared with his mother, running away to the woods with claws and fangs instead of blunt teeth and bare feet. Derek didn’t know what the druid was reaching for. No one Derek knew was, currently, dying. But… Stiles was gone. The only time he hadn’t felt this dread in his gut was when he found those bits of Stiles that the boy left in his car. Derek was sure those were the only times he’d managed to smile since the other man left for the academy.

Derek passed by Deaton as he ran back to his house, through the woods, following the same route he’d taken to get out there. He went through the open door of the garage, and padded around the nearly bald tires of the old Jeep. He sniffed, smelling the permanent aroma of Stiles’ sweat in the cushions and the oils from his fingertips on the metal doors. As he did, he noticed his tail wagging and his ears turning up like they were searching for the sound of Stiles’ voice.

-

Another week passed, and Derek stopped working as much. He spent nearly all his time as a wolf. He swam around in the swimming hole, killed a few deer, and ran all the way to the edge of the preserve where it met the state park. A few hikers almost saw him, but he’d dodged them by burrowing under a big fallen log and waiting till they passed by before he ran away. He slept outside, in a little den not too far from his old house. It was nice, simple, and calm. That was until Peter appeared in front of Derek’s den.

“Derek, I didn’t want to have to have this talk, but Deaton wouldn’t leave me alone until I talked to you, he keeps rambling about balance and how having a feral wolf would be incredibly messy for Scotty’s pack.”

He growled, lowly. Annoyed at this infraction on his territory, his uncle always overstepped.

Peter didn’t care, “You’re risking going feral, Derek. I think you know that, I think you know why as well but you just won’t let yourself believe it.” The wolf stepped closer.

Derek lowered his head, flipping up his lip to expose his sharp teeth. Saliva dripped down the corners of his mouth and he let out a louder growl. Warning the man to watch his words. That being said, a jolt of fear shocked him. The words his uncle was saying sounded… odd. The wolf had a hard time deciphering the words, like a language he wasn’t native in. Peter even sounded distorted, like he was talking underwater. Derek feared Peter might be right, that he really was becoming more wolf than man.

His uncle didn’t seem phased by the threat. “It’s Stiles, I assume. That’s the only thing I could come up with since I don’t think Lydia is much your type. Since the day he left, you’ve retreated more and more. You’re completely isolating yourself. You know if you continue down this path, you can’t come back from it.”

Derek took a step forward, snapping his jaws at his uncle.

Peter rolled his eyes. “What if they need you? What if Stiles needs you and you aren’t there because you’re off eating squirrels and pissing on trees! Or you are there and you’re feral and you tear him to shreds!”

Derek let his lip fall and quieted his growl. Then, he caved. He took a deep breath and forced his body to transform. It hurt like hell. His back snapped and shot up vertically, his fur shed off and he howled in pain as his paws turned to hands and his ribs twisted back into place. He stood up, his legs weak and shaky underneath him. He could feel his beard was long and untamed, it scratched his neck. His dark hair fell over his face and he groaned as he moved it out of his eyes.

“You look insane,” Peter remarked, a smirk on his face. He was clearly pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” Derek barked out, his voice coming out hoarse and crackly like he was sick.

“Jesus, when was the last time you spoke?” Peter’s eyes were wide in shock and maybe a hint of concern.

Derek thought about it. The last person he’d talked to was Deaton, but he hadn’t actually said anything… So it was Stiles. When he dropped the Jeep off. “Stiles…” he admitted, embarrassingly, his voice still dry and faint.

“Stiles? That was nearly a month ago, Derek, f*ck!”

“I know.” Derek looked to the ground, a feeling of vertigo overtaking him. He felt so tall it was nauseating. He stumbled to grab onto the rocky side of the entrance to his den for balance.

“He’s your mate, huh? I wanna say I’m surprised but I’m not. I always thought he was the smartest out of all the puppies. Not too hard to look at either,” Peter teased. “Didn’t know you had a thing for twinks.”

Derek growled, his fangs slipping out easily. Peter's assertion sent him into a panic, he could feel his breath quickening and his heart beat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“Woah, easy, nephew. It was just an observation.” Peter held his hands up. “You should shower, and be a person for a while. Maybe shave too. Or don’t, maybe Stiles is into terrifying lumberjack serial killers.”

Derek didn’t respond, just started walking towards his house. Naked in the moonlight, dizzy and disoriented. His mind reeling from the thought. Stiles was his mate? Could it be? This feeling of emptiness inside him wasn’t just boredom, it was his wolf grieving.

-

That autumn was somber. The season passed by like molasses. Derek moved through it with begrudging compliance and humanity. He restricted himself to full transformations only once or twice a week. December was nearly was over and the forest grew silent as the creatures settled in for the colder months. Derek's life was a little louder, though. He forced himself to visit Scott more often, even though he was notoriously terrible at small talk. Mostly, Scott would just ramble on about his classes or the members of the pack, explain how Malia hated school and was thinking about being a welder, he'd boast about Liam's achievements, and express how he missed Stiles. Derek avoided asking about his mate at all costs, hearing his name sent anxiety down his spine like a chill. Healthy or not, Derek's current way of dealing with the life altering news that the skinny, sarcastic human was his true mate, was ignore it completely. So, hetucked the Jeep away in the back of the lot and hid it under a black car cover. Vowing to finish it, but not any time soon. He just couldn't stand to keep finding these pieces of Stiles and falling more in love with him. Instead, he started to rebuild a 68 Camero and lost himself in the process. Spent most afternoons laying on his back, staring at the undercarriage and toiling away.

That day, he'd visited Scott and the alpha explained that Lydia and Stiles had apparently broke up. Of course, his main concern was what that meant for the pack. Derek explained that in his old pack, people would break up or date new people often but the bond of a pack was often stronger than heartbreak. Scott shouldn't worry about losing them. Regardless, the younger man worried. Derek thought it was so nice to see Scott fully settled into his role as alpha. He'd started to sound a lot like Talia at some times. Especially when he spoke about the younger members of the pack with such paternal care. More than that, the news made his wolf yip in excitement. Part of him was worried that the two humans would get married, and them ending their relationship gave his wolf hope. Derek tried to stuff that hope down, because regardless the wolf thought he stood no chance.

Derek got home after dinner with Scott and Malia, belly full of tacos and guacamole. He walked in his door, and took off his jacket. He recently hand made a coat hanger from salvaged pine, and a bit of pride settled into his gut when he put his heavy, thick jacket on it and the furniture didn't budge. He checked to make sure his doors were locked twice, before finally giving up and walking over to sit down, huffing as he fell into the cushion. He sighed and leaned over, grabbing a box and putting it onto the coffee table in front of him. Carefully, he pulled off the tape and opened the flaps. Luckily, or unluckily,he found what he was looking for quickly.

The photo book was warped on the bottom side, the pages melted together into plastic bricks. He flipped through and saw images of his parents. It was their mating ritual (and subsequent after party) pictures. He took a quick breath and stared at them. In the first, his mom and dad were nude save for deep scarlet shawls embroidered with triskelions and other spiral runes. They had their neck's bared to the camera and Derek could see the blood on their wounds and spread around their lips. In the background, Derek saw a huge green tree and immediately recognized it as the Nematon. He could even see Deaton standing off to the side, holding a book in his hand. The couples' mating bites were in the same spot, the crook of their necks. This was common for wolves, but if one had a job where someone may find it odd they were also done on the side of the stomach some times. Derek smiled as he flipped to the next page, this photo was closer up. Talia was cradling her husband's face, and Derek gasped. His dad's scar wasn't a scar, it was fresh. One of his eyes was swollen shut and covered in a thick scab that continued down his cheek. Still, Talia was smiling at him with deep love and adoration. He was grinning back at her. Derek's heart ached and he moved onto the next picture. This one looked to be at the afterparty, Derek recognized the backyard of his old house; though it was just grass, not the large porch that had been there when he was a kid. It was the couple showing off their wedding rings, hands to the camera as they both faced to the side. Ben was hugging Talia from behind, his tattooed hand over her belly and caught in a loud laugh, his neck thrown back and sharp teeth exposed. At this angle, you could see the slight protrusion of his mom's stomach. She must've been pregnant with Laura at the time. In the back, you could see Brielle, his grandmother, with her arms in the air like she was cheering.

A water droplet fell onto the page, and Derek realized he was crying. His wolf was whimpering in his chest, yearning for that experience. To have his parents cheering for him and his mate, yearning for the feeling of milky skin between his fangs. He squeezed his eyes shut, but found that when he closed them all he saw was honey-brown eyes and moles.

Chapter 25: Pine and Gingerbread

Chapter Text

Stiles came home for Christmas the year he and Lydia broke up. With her gone, he felt so distant from the pack and Beacon Hills in his empty apartment on the east coast. He put all his energy into his work, but still this feeling of homesickness plagues him. So, around the holidays, he headed back to California. Scott picked him up at the airport and crushed Stiles in a hug so tight, he thought his ribcage was about to pop.

“Woah buddy, don’t kill me, please,” Stiles squeaked out. He was exhausted from the flight, but popped an extra adderall before he landed to ensure he’d stay awake for the Christmas party he was heading straight to from the airport.

Scott pulled away, an apologetic look on his face, “Sorry, it's just so good to see you! I was worried you were gonna bail last minute.”

Stiles was embarrassed, seeing as that happened earlier in the season for Thanksgiving. “Yeah, sorry dude, I just started working full time so I don’t wanna start trouble… yet.”

“You already did, remember when you got your toe shot!” Scott laughed, grabbing Stiles’ duffel bag before swinging his other arm around his friend and walking with him towards the doors.

“Don’t remind me, it still looks so f*cked up, man. It’s nasty. It’s barely even a toe.”

“I remember that too, you showed me,” Scott made a disgusted face.

“No one cares about my pain,” Stiles mocked, clutching his chest before erupting in laughter. “It’s good to be home, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bro,” Scott said as they walked towards the car. “I brought Malia’s car so you don't have to carry this on the back of my bike,” he joked gesturing towards Stiles’ luggage.

“How generous.”

They reached Stiles’ house and he was surprised to see Derek’s car in the line of vehicles down the road. He walked in and was swarmed, his dad grabbed him and also squeezed him within an inch of his life, he’d deflated once John finally let him go. Next was Liam, who seemed shockingly happy to see him given the hug, then Melissa who had red cheeks matching the wine in her glass and her santa sweater. There was an awkward wave from Malia, then Mason and Corey yelled greetings at him from their comfortable spots on the couch. It was odd, Stiles had never seen so many people in his house. It was alive with laughter and cheesy Christmas music, twinkling lights from outside painting the house in rainbow hues. It smelled like meat and hot chocolate and the pine needles from the tree in the living room. His dad seemed so happy, taking Stiles’ bags and promising to be right back.

Scott was explaining how he finally was getting to take classes, and Stiles listened intently as they walked into the kitchen. Suddenly, all focus withered. Derek and Chris were chatting, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. Derek was in a black shirt and slacks, no sign of Christmas cheer. He looked incredible. Stiles literally felt the air punch out of his lungs, his face heating up with blush. His dark hair was styled well, his beard a bit thicker than the last time Stiles saw him when he’d given Derek his jeep. His skin was tan and his arms thick and strong, his green eyes twinkling in the warm glow of the kitchen light. Stiles felt like he was going to faint.

f*ck, he liked Derek. Waves of memories, brief moments of attraction and tension all combining in his mind because wow… this should’ve been obvious. Sure, he’d thought about it before but something was in that air because it was like he could see Derek fully for the first time. See what it might be like if they were really together. It was intoxicating, terrifying, and, more than anything, hopeless.

“Hey, Stiles! Glad to see you made it!” Chris chirped, raising his glass of whiskey towards him with a smile.

Derek’s head whipped around and their gaze locked. He looked annoyed or confused, maybe he didn’t know Stiles would be attending. “Hey guys!” Stiles fought his fears, as well as his sudden overwhelming urge to shove his face into Derek’s chest and just lay there on all those muscles.

Derek gave him an awkward smile and walked closer, leaving Chris to his whisky. Scott took the cue and walked over to talk to Argent. “Stiles. How are you?” Derek asked.

“Good! Well, kinda. Lydia just dumped me, which was… a lot. But, it’s alright. I think we were maybe better as friends, and I’m happy to be home!" Derek looked uncomfortable, as he always did with small talk or personal topics. So, Stiles quickly abandoned the topic of his ex-girlfriend. "I can’t believe you’re here, dude! I thought you hated any sort of parties or events,” Stiles word-vomited, trying desperately to cover any hint of desire lingering for the wolf in front of him.

“Your dad invited me. I didn’t wanna be rude,” Derek explained, gesturing behind Stiles. The young man turned and saw his dad at the bottom of the stairs laughing loudly with Melissa.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Stiles yelped as he turned around towards Derek, almost too loud.

Derek smiled at him, “Me too.”

They gathered in the dining room to eat not longer after Stiles arrived. It was nice, loud but in a fun way. They all talked about life and joked about years of near-death experiences. The humans got tipsy and the supernatural creatures complained about their healing abilities. Everyone brought food, potluck style, and Stiles was stuffed with ham, green beans, cornbread, shrimp, cookies; you name it. He fought his sleepiness off as best he could, fearing how long it would be until this happened again. Not knowing it would be the following Thanksgiving. Then no other holidays after that for over a decade.

Stiles spent the rest of the night building a gingerbread house with his dad, and laughing as John grumbled angrily trying to glue on gumdrops evenly with the sh*tty icing that came with the pack. Scott and Malia were also attempting one across the table from them, but it was more of a gingerbread… pile. Besides that, most of Stiles’ energy was focused on trying to not gawk at Derek. The wolf had been comfortably planted on the couch with Chris most of the night, watching A Christmas Story in comfortable silence, a plate of cookies on his lap. When Stiles would let himself look, just have a peak, Derek would sense it and look right back. This caused Stiles to blush so hard his dad told him to ease off the beers, despite him only having two or three.

“How are you handling the work, buddy?”

“Eh,” Stiles remarked, adjusting his candy cane tree. “It’s alright. When I was interning, I had less free time so it’s better in that regard. But still, it’s crazy.”

John looked sympathetic. “I get it, you just gotta find your groove.”

“Guess so,” Stiles looked at their completed house, smiling with pride. “I think maybe I could just quit and be a candy carpenter, what do you guys think?” He turned their house around to show Scott, Malia, as well as Liam, Mason and Corey who were standing by the table.

"Nice,” Liam commented, an amused look on his face.

"You did a really good job with the sugar, it looks just like snow," Mason said genuinely.

Malia groaned, “It looks way better than ours. I crushed all of the decorations.” She huffed and Scott wrapped an arm around her, telling her it wasn't a big deal and he had fun.

An hour or two later, mostly everyone had headed out, Stiles was alone in the kitchen finishing up some dishes so his dad didn’t have to do them tomorrow. Scott yelled a goodbye and Stiles parroted, promising to see him again tomorrow for video games. The alpha agreed and closed the door behind him and Malia. Stiles started on the last dirty plate, but jumped when he heard Derek’s voice closer to him than he expected.

“I don’t think I’ll see you before you leave Monday,” the wolf said.

Stiles dried his hands and turned off the faucet. “Oh, um, yeah bye, Derek. It was nice to see you in not-terrifying conditions. I’ll be back next year around the same time, maybe we can do this again and I can stay in Beacon Hills longer.”

“Sounds good,” Derek turned to walk away but Stiles stepped closer. He extended his arms, offering a hug. Remembering when he’d given Derek his jeep earlier that year and they embraced, he hoped the beta wouldn’t think it was odd. Derek, much to his surprise, hugged him back. Stiles inhaled through his nose where it was pressed against Derek's chest, and felt his knees buckle at the foresty lavender smell that clung to Derek’s skin. Stiles felt small in Derek’s big arms and he could’ve let himself fall asleep in them.

It was quick, and after, Derek smiled at him with a wide eyed look Stiles had never seen on the other man’s face before. They both said their goodbyes awkwardly before turning away from each other. Stiles left two days later with these new, horrific, and unrequited feelings. When he got back to D.C, he put all of Lydia’s things in boxes and called a U-Haul. The next day, he went out to a gay bar for the first time.

-

Stiles thought of that Christmas fondly, as he sat in the living room. His daydreams were cut off short as he heard the familiar sputtering of an engine and saw the Jeep pulling up to his house. A flicker of excitement bubbled in his chest knowing Derek was there. Stiles headed outside to greet him and thank him for bringing it over.

The wolf hopped out, looking a bit stressed. His dark hair unstyled and his eyes sleepy. He waved awkwardly at Stiles as he closed the Jeep door behind him.

"Hey man, what’s up?” Stiles asked, jogging out to the edge of his driveway. Halfway down he realized he was still in his crop top and pajama pants but it was too late to turn around. So he just bit the bullet.

“Nothing much, just remembered I had the Jeep, didn’t wanna leave you stranded.” Derek tossed Stiles the keys and he fumbled with them trying to catch them before they eventually fell onto the ground. Derek tried, and failed, to not gawk at the soft stretch of skin exposed on Stiles’ belly. He’d never seen Stiles in clothes like that and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t send a wave of desire through his body. So much so that, embarrassingly, Derek stretched his legs to try to adjust his jeans. He cast his eyes away from Stiles, looking up at the sky like the clouds suddenly became very interesting to him.

“Thanks for bringin’ it over!” Stiles smiled, tucking his keys into his pocket then stretching his arms out to let the sun hit his skin for the first time that day. He felt the fabric of his shirt reach up higher, exposing his belly button and bottom of his ribcage. He quickly let his hands down only to find Derek looking at him with a pained expression.

“No problem,” he choked out. “I was driving around today anyway.” The wolf turned around to walk away.

“Are you busy?” Stiles asked, stepping forward. “You um, you don’t have to run off so fast. Or I could drop you off at your house so you don’t have to walk back. I know werewolf speed and all, but it’s still pretty far.”

Despite his better judgment, Derek found himself agreeing with Stiles. It was like he was entranced by the dark hair of Stiles’ happy trail. “Yeah I could hang out for a bit, Eli’s at a friend's house today.”

“No biggie! Let’s go upstairs, I can show you some of my research about my spark stuff if you’re interested.”

Derek was more than interested. Since he’d seen Stiles glowing like a star in the meadow yesterday, it had flooded Derek’s thoughts. He wondered how it could be that this magic had been latent in the younger man’s blood for years, only to now make his skin and eyes shine. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

A pink blush crept up on Stiles’ cheeks and he opened the door for Derek, who followed Stiles inside and up the stairs to his room. The spark briefly wished he could change, feeling self conscious. He’d throw a hoodie on, but it was getting hot as the sun rose higher into the sky. They walked in and Stiles was thankful he’d cleaned up his space this morning after Scott left, despite his unmade bed it was fairly neat and tidy.

“Here it is, in all its glory!” Stiles declared as he gestured to the clear white board stacked with printed pages and yarn connecting the pieces.

Derek didn’t say anything, just stepped forward and began reading. He stayed like that for nearly five minutes, carefully following Stiles’ line of thought and all his notes. “Faeries?” Was the first word, or question, that left his lips. Stiles had been standing, awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs while Derek read through his research.

“Yeah, it’s starting to look like that, huh? I’m a little bummed that Jackson may have been right when he called me one,” he laughed, cringing a bit at his own joke.

To his surprise, Derek laughed too. “I’m not surprised, you do have an uhm… elven look.”

“Lord of the rings elven, I hope. I don’t have long blonde locks, though.”

“This is really incredible,” Derek traced his fingers over the red thread, following its path. “I can’t believe we never figured this out all this time.”

“We have Deaton to thank for that,” Stiles explained, annoyance thick in his tone.

“Guess so. Never liked him,” Derek admitted.

“Right?!” Stiles chuckled.

The awkwardness soon faded as the breeze flowed through Stiles’ window and the two men got used to each other’s company. It took a half hour but eventually, this easy calmness filled the room and they just talked. Talked for what felt like the first time. No distractions, no one else around, nothing pressing to attend to in the coming hours. Just them. Stiles told Derek about his job, and finally admitted that he wasn’t sure if he was going back; that the past fifteen years had really drained him and this newfound magic was beginning to take precedence over his career. He didn’t explain how he had to take pills to sleep at night when the cases he worked reminded him of things the pack had been through. Derek echoed those feelings, explaining he could retire and abandon his attempt at being normal at any time but he just wanted to make sure Eli wasn’t spoiled or isolated and actually got to be a teenager. The words ‘unlike Derek’ were unspoken after that. Derek had his youth stolen, in more ways than one, and clearly his overprotective nature was the only way he knew how to keep his son safe. Derek didn’t deserve to lose any more people in his life.

The midday hours felt so fast and so slow. Stiles was enamored by this casual side of Derek Hale. At how he looked with his shoes off and jacket hung up, comfortably sitting on Stiles’ couch and not looking even a bit annoyed as Stiles explained storm magic, alternate realms, the connection between sparks and the seasons. Maybe being a dad had made Derek more patient, surely a kid like Eli would do that to a guy. Stiles realized how happy he was just to see the wolf smiling as he raised a bottle of water to his lips, watching his bunny teeth stick out as he took a sip. Stiles had nowhere else to look but at the beautiful man in front of him, and he noticed the white patches in Derek’s beard, the perfect slope of his nose, his tiny ears. Stiles’ heartbeat was fast, but the wolf never commented on it and for that Stiles was beyond thankful.

Eventually the sun moved lower in the sky and the two men ended up laying next to each other on the bed with their feet hanging off the end. The overhead fan cooling them only in that spot. It wasn’t close enough to touch, but not far away either. Just looking up at the ceiling, like it was too much for them to make eye contact. Stiles admitted he was scared of what his powers could do, that Peter’s reaction to his abilities told Stiles he should guard this secret close to his heart. He never wanted to hurt people again. Derek empathized, told him how being supernatural was the hardest and most dangerous secret a person could keep. One slip up and you could be taken for scientific trials or worse, and if Stiles was capable of all the things he had written on his white board… he would need an anchor. Derek wasn’t sure if that’s how sparks worked but surely there had to be a way to reign it in so he didn’t explode.

“I always had my wolf, it was just a part of me; unlike Scott who it happened to… you’re somewhere in the middle. This spark is you, but you’re just now meeting it. I think you’ll be good at it, you’ve always been so smart, Stiles,” Derek confessed. “You already know how to keep the secret, you just have to learn how to not glow in the dark by accident,” he teased.

“Oh, thanks, Der that’s… that’s so nice.” Stiles laughed a bit, and tossed his hand over to rest on Derek’s arm just for a second before bringing it back to its resting place on his own stomach. The skin on skin contact sent a burst of electricity through Stiles’ body and he prayed he wasn’t glowing.

The wolf felt his stomach flip at the nickname, and at the casual affection Stiles offered him. Derek was unable to speak so he just nodded a bit. In this place, surrounded by Stiles' scent so thick and strong, it was overwhelming. It was like walking through an apple orchard in early autumn, Stiles always smelled so sweet and ripe to him. It was intoxicating to be in his sheets, and Derek would be lying if he said his wolf wasn't clawing in his chest, desperate to stuff its nose into the blankets or Stiles' neck.

“This is nice… so was yesterday when we all went swimming. I don’t think I realized how much I missed this kind of stuff. I’ve been busy practically every day of my life since I was in high school. I never slowed down.”

“Maybe it's time?” Derek suggested.

Stiles turned his head and Derek mimicked the action, their heads resting on the mattress. A foot apart, they looked at each other, close enough to feel the hot air of each other's breath. Mossy green meeting syrupy honey. “I think you’re right,” Stiles said, voice soft. Derek was so close to him, it was intimate. All Stiles would have to do was reach out, but he couldn’t ruin this. No matter how beautiful Derek looked in the late daylight, how his sharp lips shined, or the way that his dark eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones; none of it mattered. He could feel the spark inside him flickering with excitement and desire, and he had to snuff it out.

More than anything, Derek wanted to kiss Stiles. He was so close, and Derek swore he could smell a hint of black cherries in the air, the smell of arousal. He couldn’t place it, though. It could’ve been his own. They stared at each other in silence, Derek’s eyes flicking down to the strawberry pout of Stiles’ lips, wondering what they tasted like, wondering if Stiles would let out whimper if Derek were to bite them. But he knew he couldn’t, and he had to stop these thoughts before he got carried away. So, he just smiled and sat up with a sigh. “I should probably head home. It’s getting late and I need to clean up the shop.”

“Do you need a ride? It’s no trouble,” Stiles sat up and looked around the room to see where he’d put the keys to the jeep.

“No, it’s alright. I could use a run.” Derek stood up and grabbed his boots from where he’d tucked them underneath Stiles’ couch.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Thanks for talking… I um-I had fun,” the older man admitted begrudgingly.

“Me too, who would’ve thought you’re such a conversationalist now!” Stiles teased.

“Not really, but I don’t mind talking to you. It’s just other people that annoy me.” The confession went unaddressed, but there was a wave of understanding in the air. Like ‘finally’. They were friends, they were close, and their trust in each other was cemented that day.

Stiles waved him goodbye and watched out his window as Derek headed to the forest. His mind conjured images of inky fur fluttering in the wind as the wolf ran through the trees. It made him smile, and the butterflies in his stomach started to reach his heart, flickering and making his fingers buzz. Stiles was so f*cked, hopelessly in love.

Chapter 26: Is it Better to Speak or to Die?

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since Stiles had seen Derek, and no matter how much he wanted to avoid his feelings; it was getting harder. He could smell the faint remnant of Derek’s woodsy smell on his blankets, and he dug his nose into them the second the wolf left. He should’ve felt embarrassed, but he didn’t. He felt high, like he was full of the man he loved. It was intoxicating. He thought about the wolf constantly, even when he was researching Bardo and banshees, the wolf was pressing on the back of his mind. Stiles ignored it as much as he could, got dressed and headed out to the preserve.

He hiked up the steep incline towards the garden Peter showed him. He knew he technically could use any moving water, like Anam said, but he figured it was a good spot. Again, the walk up was rough and he was out of breath with sore legs by the time he reached the top. He flopped unceremoniously onto the ground, letting his head rest on the dirt. The sun was shining through the tops of the trees, painting his face in broken rays. He laid there for a minute, catching his breath and just listening to the sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing around the flowers. He’d read, in the new book Peter gave him, that if he grounded himself to the land he would begin to feel it; like an extension of his own body. His sacrifice to the Nematon, and his work bringing Derek back on its roots, was surely enough for him to know that these woods would always be a part of him. So, he quieted his mind and just let himself feel. He pictured the spiral runes painting the book pages, thought of the way it felt when his blood began to shine.

He was shocked to realize, even with his eyes closed, he saw the forest. Specifically, he saw the Nematon, just as he did in those visions when he brought Derek back. The grove at its full glory and size, swallowing light with its huge canopy. Then he heard footsteps, soft and bouncy and saw a hare prancing around. Above it was a red-tailed hawk, Stiles could feel its wings cutting through the air like the breeze was right in front of his face. His stomach twisted when he saw jet black fur and glowing red eyes running after the hare as well and in his chest he knew he was beginning to glow.

He opened his eyes and sat up, noticing the tips of his fingers and the middle of his chest were glittering gold ever so faintly. Time had passed much quicker than he’d thought. The sun was a bit lower in the sky, and when he checked his phone he was shocked to see nearly an hour had passed. He got up and brushed the leaf litter off his jeans and the back of his arms before running over to the creek. By the time he got there, it seemed his spark had settled. His reflection in the water was no different than what he was used to.

“Stiles!” Anam said with glee, her kind face appearing as soon as Stiles looked down into the water, her smile lines deepening around her grin.

“Hi Anam!” He greeted her.

“How is your wolf, mi luz?”

“He’s well, doing a lot better.” Stiles smiled, thinking of Derek dripping with water and doing a backflip into the swimming hole. Anam calling Derek ‘his wolf’, made Stiles’ heartbeat flutter and warmth fill his cheeks.

“So glad to hear it, I see his being back has helped you. You seem happier.”

“I am,” he admitted, knowing there was no point in trying to lie to Anam, “and I have news about your daughter!”

Anam’s dark eyes sparkled with hope, “Please tell.”

“Is she buried on your property? Did you do any ceremony after her passing?” Stiles felt bad for asking these questions, but he knew it was necessary.

Anam shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment. “She’s here, yes, but we never had a proper funeral. It was too hard.”

Stiles nodded, “I think she’s waiting for you. You’re her ‘unfinished business’ so to speak, and you trying to bring her back only got her closer to you. Instead of waiting in the in between, so to speak, she’s right at the edge of death and life. I think, when you pass, she will likely be waiting there to guide you. I know this isn’t what you’d like to hear…” Stiles avoided her eyes, fearful to see tears in them. Anam was so kind and loving, and he wanted nothing more than to help her. But, everything he’d read thus far has led him to this conclusion.

She didn’t seem upset, just thinking. “Could your banshee speak with her? Just to make sure she’s alright until… until I can walk with her again.”

Stiles nodded, “Yes, I was going to offer that up. The issue is, I think I would need a personal item of hers. Anything to jog Lydia’s powers and get her connected.”

“A photograph?”

“That would work.”

“I will mail you mine, and then when you get it perhaps the banshee can join you at the water and we can try this out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles agreed and gave her his mailing address and offered to pay for the shipping, which she adamantly declined. They wished each other farewell and Stiles sighed as he slid his phone out his pocket before falling onto the mossy ground to sit. He typed in the familiar number and was surprised when the call picked up. “Hey Lydia…”

“What’s wrong?” She asked, voice sharp.

“Nothing! But um… Do you remember how I said I needed your help with my friend Anam?”

Stiles could hear her sigh even through the phone, and he could picture her hunched over her desk, annoyed. “Yes,” she answered.

“She’s gonna mail me a photo, all I need is you to try to talk with her daughter, make sure she’s okay. If it’s not too much trouble, it would be nice if you could come to Beacon Hills so we can both talk with Anam. The open connection between here and Mexico should help you access her, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

Stiles realized he hadn’t explained his new method of talking to anyone but Peter. “It’s complicated, I can show you when I see you.”

Lydia paused for a minute, and Stiles was worried she’d bail. “Fine. But I’ll meet you there and you are not picking me up from the airport.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, like it was a joke but his disdain was clear. He still had no clue what he’d done to Lydia to make her avoid being stuck alone with him like she’d be on a drive. It hurt. Not because he still loved her, but just because he missed her. All these years, and he still didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve this icy indifference from her.

“Okay, let me know when I need to come. But remember I do have a job, I can’t just run around in the woods for days like we used to.”

“Sounds good. And thank you, Lydia, really.”

“I owe you,” she said before hanging up abruptly.

Stiles thought of going home, but stayed for a while instead. He walked around the garden, impressed with Peter’s ability to take care of all these flowers and plants. Mostly, he thought of Derek. He wondered if his vision was one of the past, or if it was happening as he laid there. If Derek was just running around as a wolf at that very moment and unaware Stiles was watching like some creepy omnipotent being. No matter how hard the spark tried, there was just this violent tugging in his chest trying to bring him towards the wolf.The night before, in Stiles’ dreams, he saw him and Derek in that sun-soaked meadow, embracing in the light. Derek’s hands would trace his jaw and pull their lips together. Just as they kissed, Stiles woke up sweaty in the morning sun. He thought of his promise, when he vowed to bring Derek back. How he needed to tell the wolf everything he'd shoved down all those years. Stiles needed to tell Derek, but as the clock ticked and the time got closer; Stiles was terrified.

He sighed and began his descent back down the hill and towards his Jeep, ignoring the desire in his gut to run towards the wolf.

-

Derek’s house was full of noise and life, and it was driving him up the wall a bit. He'd went on a run that morning, on all fours, chased a few rabbits around before heading home and it was the only moment of silence he had all day. Since he’d seen his sister and her new mate, the two had been over most afternoons and nights to hang out and have dinner. Eli was ecstatic, he rarely got to see his aunt and now he had a new uncle. Derek understood his excitement, besides himself and Peter, Eli never really had family around. It would be good for him. A pack would be better, Derek thought. But the alpha was missing the solitude of his quiet home, especially after seeing Stiles a few days ago. His mind was reeling over his mate, and he needed to figure out what he was going to do about it. But he couldn’t think with the sounds of Isaac and Eli screaming at the TV while they played Mario Kart on Eli’s Nintendo switch. They tried to get Derek to play, but he couldn’t figure out how to use those tiny controllers for the life of him. So, he gave up and just tried to read while dinner finished up in the oven.

“Derek, where’s your cutting board?” Isaac yelled from the kitchen.

“And where’s the bread knife?” Cora shouted.

Derek sighed, putting his bookmark into the novel he was trying to read with defeat. He’d spent an hour trying to finish a single chapter and he barely got more than five pages finished. He walked into the kitchen and showed them where everything was before sitting on the stool by the island next to his son. He watched Cora and Isaac dance around each other getting everything ready. It was a bit odd, he'd never seen Cora date anyone. She was uncharacteristically kind and gentle with Isaac, spoke to him with less grit in her voice and smiled easily.

“Dad, can you sign this?” Eli asked, sliding Derek his lacrosse permission form for the upcoming year.

He didn’t even think before nodding and taking the pen from Eli’s hands. He stopped right when he put the pen to paper. “Oh, um, I can’t.”

Eli’s face fell. “Oh yeah… what should I do then?”

Derek briefly thought of his conversation with Stiles the other day, about how he wanted his son to have a normal life. The alpha just had no clue what to do with Eli given he couldn’t legally be his guardian anymore. Derek’s despair must’ve been obvious because Cora snatched the paper away from him quickly, followed by the pen and signed it. She quickly handed it back to Eli. “If anyone asks, he can just say he’s staying with me.”

“Aren’t you technically dead too?” Isaac asked, half-joking.

“No one's gonna look it up.” Cora quipped and tucked a fallen piece of her hair behind her ear. “Derek’s funeral was like, not that long ago. And Coach was literally there.”

Eli stuck his hands in his head. “Why are our lives so weird?”

Isaac laughed again, “It only gets weirder.”

Derek smiled at his sister, an unsaid thank you. Despite it being loud and hectic in his house lately, it was nice to have company. To hear laughter from the couch, and see Isaac showing Eli how to use his claws or do flips in the backyard. Derek wouldn’t admit it but he actually liked having them around. He only hoped Isaac forgave him for how he handled kicking him out… he knew he should apologize but it had been so long, Derek had no idea how to approach the subject.

So, instead, they all ate together in the dining room and avoided talking about anything from all those years ago.

Eli stopped his rambling about the new Zelda game to turn to Cora and ask, “Where have you guys been for the last couple of years, by the way? Last time I saw you, you said you were living in New York.”

Cora answered, “I left New York and went to Paris, ran into Issac and we ended up getting together. Came back to the States, lived in Baltimore for a bit, then eventually we met someone with a pack in New Mexico. Been there since.”

Isaac smiled and rubbed her shoulder for a moment. He had that hazy look in his blue eyes that Derek recognized all too well, it was the same way his dad used to look at Talia. Like the moon and the stars.

“Are you planning on staying a while?” Eli asked before ripping a piece of bread off and chewing loudly.

Cora and Isaac both looked over towards Derek, who had his mouth full of fried chicken. He stopped chewing when he noticed their eyes on him. “Maybe,” Isaac said awkwardly before tucking back into his dinner.

Derek looked down at his plate, chewing and stabbing his green beans with his fork. He knew what they were waiting for, but his life was just too confusing right now. He always wanted to make up for his terrible efforts at being an alpha. And now, he finally had the chance. Eli, Cora, Isaac, they could be his pack, they probably already were. It was beginning to feel like it, but Derek couldn’t tell; he obviously had ties to his sister and son, as well as Isaac given that he was the one who turned the beta. But the logistics of where they’d all be, if he could even stay in Beacon Hills; it all made it difficult for him to give anyone a solid answer.

They finished up dinner soon after. Cora and Isaac were about to head out for the night, but Derek found himself blurting out “You guys are more than welcome to stay in the guest bedroom upstairs. I’m renovating it to turn it into mine but it’s pretty much finished. I can move some of the paint cans out.”

Isaac looked over to his mate, and she gestured towards the door. “That’d be nice but all our stuff is at the hotel.”

Eli groaned behind them, “You guys should stay! Or maybe come back tomorrow! We can go swimming like we did with Stiles?” Eli asked as he turned to his dad.

“Swimming with Stiles, huh?” Isaac asked with a suggestive tone and sh*t-eating grin that made Derek’s eyes bug out.

“Sounds good, I hate the hotel we're at anyway.” Cora smiled a bit, grabbing her mate by his arm to drag him away. For that, Derek was more than grateful. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Derek walked behind them and shut the door for them.

Eli pulled his hoodie up and sat down on the couch, glaring at his dad with a perplexed look. “Why did Isaac say it like that? Swimming with Stiles,” he mimicked.

“I don’t know,” the alpha replied bluntly.

Eli kept looking at him and Derek wanted nothing more than to bolt for the door. Just as he turned around, his son gasped. “OH MY GOD!”

“Eli,” Derek cut him off, pointing a finger at him, warning him. “No.”

“I already know you like Stiles, and they know too!” Eli smiled wide and bounced around the living room.

Derek huffed, rubbing his forehead. “I thought we agreed, no talking about my love life.”

“C’mon dad, you gotta let me in a bit. Would you want me to tell you if I liked someone?” Eli flung his hands in the air in desperation.

“Not unless it was a threat to your life, that’s your business.” Derek crossed his arms defensively.

Eli let out a loud laugh, “As if! You would want their social security number, parents medical records, you’d never shut up about it!”

Derek groaned. “Okay, fine. You’re right, I love him, can we leave it alone?” The second the words left his lips, his eyes went wide as he realized what he said.

“LOVE?!” Eli squealed, his hands raising to his head in surprise.

“sh*t, I mean, Eli please.” The damage had been done and Derek had no clue how to come back from what he’d just admitted.

“Dad! You need to tell Stiles! What if he leaves to go work in D.C again and he doesn’t know how you feel! That would suck!”

The alpha rolled his eyes and walked away from his son, he couldn’t speak these words out loud. He speed walked through the hallway and flopping down on his bed. He buried his face in the blankets and let out a muffled groan, wishing he was back in his old den. Eli was right. If Stiles left again, Derek would have no clue how to cope. He wasn’t sure his wolf could handle it. Years of dreams full of long limbs and brown eyes plagued him, wondering where he was and seeing echoes of him in the Jeep… in his son. It was tortuous. The other day when they talked and laid together, and the one before where they swam under the sun, they’d been the happiest days Derek had in so long. There were just too many unknowns, too much that could go wrong, too much to risk.

A couple of minutes later, Eli knocked gently on his door even though it wasn’t closed. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he spoke softly.

Derek sighed and flipped over so he was on his back, looking over at the teenager. “It’s okay, skittle.” He rubbed his face in exhaustion. “You’re not wrong… I just, this is something I have to figure out on my own. It’s a lot more complicated than a normal relationship.”

“Why?” Eli walked further into the room and sat next to Derek on the bed.

Derek figured he should be honest, Eli would be able to tell if he was lying. It was one of the things he picked up the quickest since he’d let his wolf out. “Remember yesterday, when you asked Isaac and Cora about their marks?”

“Yeah, they said it was like werewolf marriage. You bite each other instead of a ring.”

“You can choose your mate, and it is like getting married. You’ll never want anyone but them and you're bonded forever. Cora and Isaac did it, so did your grandparents. But sometimes… the universe chooses your mate, like its fated. It doesn’t happen very often.” Derek felt his cheeks burn red with blush. “Stiles is my true mate.”

“How long have you known?” Eli pressed.

Derek shook his head, “A very long time.” He looked down, playing with the faded threads on the edge of his sleeve. “I figured it out when he left for D.C permanently to start working. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to talk to anyone. Spent most of my time as a wolf out in the woods. Peter was the one to tell me I was, um, experiencing mate rejection.”

“Since before I was born?!” Eli squeaked.

The alpha nodded sheepishly. “If you claim them and do the ritual, it would be like they’re half of you. If you don’t claim them as your mate, you can go feral. It nearly happened to me but then…I found you and you saved me.”

Eli leaned over and hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you’ve been going through this my whole life and you never told me.”

Derek felt his throat stinging with tears but he fought them away, squeezing his son tightly. He ran his fingers through Eli’s long hair. “I’m your dad, it’s my job to be stable for you.”

“What would it mean if you did, uh, ‘claim’ Stiles?” Eli questioned as he pulled away from the embrace. His green eyes were watering and Derek wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“I would be able to feel when he gets hurt, sense where he is and how he feels, and if he dies… I would die too.”

“I guess Stiles doesn’t know about the mates thing? But I bet some part of him had to, that’s why he came here so determined to bring you back to life! Dad… why didn’t you tell him? I think he likes you too…”

“It was never the right time. I don’t want him to feel like he has to be with me.”

“If what you said about mates is right, it seems like he already does, dude. I bet he feels the same way.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

Eli laughed and stood up, heading towards the hall but pausing in the doorway, “You should tell him dad, before it's too late. You don't have to bring up the mates thing right away, just tell him you love him. Don’t be scared.”

Derek smiled as he shooed his son away, a bit in awe of how smart and mature Eli was becoming. Despite that, Derek was relieved when the kid closed the door behind him. The wolf spent the rest of the night staring at his ceiling, anxiety close to his heart. He wondered if his son was right. He worried that he was wrong. Either way, Derek had to make a decision; Tell Stiles how he felt and possibly ruin what relationship they have, or to let the spark get away again and risk going feral. f*ck. Eli was right.

Chapter 27: Sapling

Chapter Text

Isaac and Cora showed up around noon the next day. Derek’s under eyes were sunken and tinged purple from his sleepless night. Tossing and turning with fear in his gut. The closest thing he had to a plan was to see Stiles again, and try to decipher if the spark felt anything for him. He’d sniff for arousal, listen for the jump of his heart beat. Derek tried not to do that, he found it rude. But desperate times call for desperate measures, he couldn’t just outright ask. The fear of being rejected weighed too heavy on him.

He’d just finished cleaning up the guest bedroom when he heard the mates knocking on his door. Eli let them in and Derek called them upstairs.“Hey guys, you can put your stuff wherever.” Derek wiped the sweat from his brow and carried his toolbox and the last paint can out of the bedroom.

“Thanks. You sure you don’t mind us staying for a while?” Isaac asked, setting his suitcase down by the closet. Cora had no such reservations, and quickly chucked her bag onto the floor and began shedding her shoes and jacket.

“Not at all,” the alpha reassured. He tucked the screwdriver he used to screw in the cabinets into his jeans.

“It’s a thousand degrees outside, we’re still going swimming right?” Cora asked as she tossed her t-shirt off, revealing she already had her swimsuit on underneath.

“YES!” Eli yelled from downstairs.

Derek huffed and shook his head, looking back at Isaac and Cora “I keep telling him he needs to learn how to not eavesdrop. He’s still getting used to his better hearing,” the alpha explained.

“I get it, I did that too,” Isaac laughed.

Then Derek heard it. Clear as day, it couldn’t have been anything else. A little bu-bump loud in the moment of silence. A fourth heartbeat in the room. His eyes widened but decided it wasn’t time to ask. “Alright, I’ll leave you guys to get changed.” Derek closed the door to the bedroom behind him and headed back downstairs to go get changed. Cora was pregnant. Derek was smiling and terrified and overjoyed. His eyes were welling with tears as he ran as fast as he could into his room. He shut the door sharply and tried to calm his breath. Cora surely knew she couldn’t keep it a secret for long, especially in a house of werewolves. Isaac had to know as well. Derek wiped his eyes and changed into his swim trunks and a thin t-shirt, grabbing the duffel bag with all their things before finally going out to meet everyone by the car.

They headed out soon and Derek could barely contain his excitement. His fears about Stiles, for the first time in weeks, finally subsided for a moment. He could only think of a baby with Cora’s dark hair and Isaac’s wide ocean eyes, grabbing up at him. Another Hale, despite everything that happened. Eli wouldn’t be alone. Sure, there was Malia, but she never really settled into being a 'Hale'. She was a 'Tate' and it seemed she was nowhere near giving up that title, not that she had to. Derek just was gleeful knowing how happy and proud his parents would be of Cora. He could only hope they'd feel the same way about him too.

-

Stiles was padding around in the woods, thinking of taking a dip in the creek. His jeans clung to his sweaty skin, and his hair was wet and sticky. He was determined, though, to practice his visions again. So instead of giving into his desire to cool off, he walked to the Nematon and sat himself right on top of it. Legs crossed, breath controlled, holding tightly onto the talisman around his neck that Anam gave him. He pulled chalk from his backpack and traced protection runes around the spot where he sat to would prevent anything from attaching to him again. As he finished he looked at the wood and let his hand draw a familiar sigil, three spirals. The triskelion. As he did, it felt like a warm blanket covered him and reassured him he was safe.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He saw it immediately, branching out like blood vessels- the tiny mycelium branching that connected every living thing in the forest. He saw it spiraling around the roots of every tree, every flower, spreading out for miles. He reached out, seeing his own veins spark as they touched. He was soaring again, high above the trees, able to see for miles. His readings told him he should set intentions, so he recounted what he’d written. ‘Show me Derek’.

Like a movie reeling at impossible speed, Stiles saw a little baby with dark hair crawling on freshly mowed grass being chased by a little girl with light brown hair. Then, a young boy with yellow eyes leaping from the trees, surrounded by the faint smell of charring beef and the sound of crickets singing. A teenager, racing through the woods with a lanky young man with icy blue eyes.

“Peter! Not fair!” He cried out as the older man shoved him aside and he stumbled into the leaf litter.

“Life’s not fair, nephew!” The man, Peter, teased and laughed as he reached the clearing first. “I win!”

Then it happened, he saw Derek cradling Paige beneath Stiles’ feet. Dark shadows painted their faces, black blood staining their skin and clothes. Derek was crying, and she begged him to kill her, that it hurt too much. Stiles felt tears fall down his cheeks, watching Derek’s claws dig into her as he screamed and his eyes turned azure.

Stiles thought it would end there, but he was wrong. The smell of burning flesh stung his nose and the dozens of overlapping screams and cried deafened in his ears. He saw the flames rising up to swallow the house, smoke pouring out of the windows in thick, black plumes. Kate giggled with glee as she grabbed the gasoline and ran off. Inside, a woman with tan skin and black hair cradled a large man covered in tattoos and scars. Stiles didn’t have to be told, he could tell by his sharp nose and thick eyebrows. It was Derek’s father. On his lap was a little boy with brown curly hair lit up with flames. He screamed and Talia held him close, tears flowing from her burning red eyes as she tried in vain to tap out the fire. Many other people, hands flying out of the grates of the basem*nt or running to the stairs and trying in vain to break down the door. She howled and he watched the windows burst, glass flying out and hitting the lawn. The trees around the house screamed as well, the fire charring their bark and melting their leaves.

Stiles felt his breathing go short and feared if he didn’t get out, he’d have a panic attack. He forced his vision to tilt, pushing himself through the air like a thick dream. And he saw Derek, now. Grey in his beard, smiling and wet at the swimming hole. Cora and Isaac layed out in the sunny spot on the far edge of the water. Eli trying to do a front flip off the cliff and instead belly flopping hard. Seeing them calmed him, and he could feel the summer breeze on the back of his neck and smell Derek’s lavender and tea tree oil shampoo.

When Stiles came to, he was drenched in sweat and shaking. Looking down, he could see his palms glowing and the light reaching up his arms and onto his chest. When he stood up, his eyes went wide. Right where he had been sitting, was a little sapling growing. Green and poking right out from the middle of the dead trunk. His fear turned to amazement, and when he touched the bud with his glowing hands it felt like a volt of electricity. The sapling grew another few inches and a small leaf popped up on its side. Stiles looked around and grabbed his bottle out of his bag, giving the new growth some water it’d surely need in this dry, California heat. He just stared at it for a minute, this odd contentment in his chest.

Feeling terrified at what he’d seen, and at the same time enamored at what his spark had created, he gathered up his things and walked through the maze of trees. As he was heading back to the Jeep, he heard a voice call out his name.

“Hello?!” He yelled back. Only to hear nothing in return. Fear made his feet heavy as he began to pick up his speed.

“Stiles! Hey!” This time he spun his head around and was relieved to see the nostalgic sight of dark blonde curls bouncing towards him.

He huffed, leaning against the trunk of the closest tree for support, “Isaac, you scared the sh*t out of me!”

“Sorry, man. What are you doing?” The wolf asked, he was shirtless and seemed to have a pretty large scar on his neck that Stiles didn’t remember him having. The spark didn’t know wolves could even scar like that…

“Uh, it’s hard to explain,” Stiles’ face scrunched up awkwardly.

“Magic stuff?” Isaac guessed.

“Yeah.” Stiles shuffled uncomfortably, there was no way to explain what just happened to him.

“Sounds cool. But, dude, you look like you’re burning up, why don’t you come swim with us?” Isaac pointed behind him.

“Us?” Stiles questioned. Could it be that his vision was current? They were all down by the water, and Stiles could see not only echoes of the past, but the present as well? He needed to get home to right this all down soon. It seemed like every time he let his spark do its thing to try to understand it, all he got was a million more questions to research.

“Cora, Derek, Eli. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Stiles was shocked, but the thought of seeing Derek bloomed excitement in his stomach.“I actually do have my swim trunks. Are you sure they’ll be okay with me coming?”

“Of course.” Isaac said without a hint of doubt in his tone, “Change and meet us there, it’s just down that hill and through the little trail of brambles.”

“Okay, sure.”

Isaac ran down to the swim spot, loudly crashing over branches with his feet, earning looks from everyone there.

“Did you see who it was?” Cora asked, as she tied her hair up on her head. “I could hear their crazy heartbeat from here.”

“Yeah, it was actually Stiles,” Isaac said with a smirk, turning towards Derek and raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I told him he should come swim with us, dude was like pouring sweat. Said he was practicing his spark magic or something.”

“Oh cool!” Eli responded, head whipping over to look at his dad and wiggle his eyebrows at him as well before digging into the cooler for whatever snacks Derek had packed for them.

Derek submerged himself under the water, hiding from the insinuations of his son and new brother-in-law. Under the cover of dark water, he thought to himself. The alpha was scared to see Stiles, especially since his talk with Eli last night. It seemed no matter how hard Derek tried, distance would never be an option. That's what Eli said and Derek was only a bit annoyed at how right his son was. He resurfaced and couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of him.

“Hey guys!” Stiles yelled as he stumbled down the hill. Little black swim shorts with a small blue, pink, and purple band around the waist that Derek recognized as the bisexual flag. He was shirtless save for a small necklace hanging between his collar bones that looked to be made of bone or something similar. He looked beautiful, shimmering with sweat in the August sun. Derek was in awe.

“Glad you found us, nice shorts,” Isaac teased.

“You’re the one who ran into me at a gay club, Lahey, you have no room to judge,” Stiles deflected as he came to stop by the edge of the pool.

Isaac raised his hands in defeat, and Cora shot him a burning glare. “Babe, it was before we were together.”

“You said you ran into him at a concert and he just happened to have a boyfriend!” Cora barked.

“It was! Just… at a gay club,” Isaac made an awkward face before swimming further away. Cora laughed, her anger seeming to wither away in an instant like she'd been sarcastic.

“You have a boyfriend?” Eli asked, taking a break from tearing into what looked like pasta salad.

“No, no, that was my ex from quite some time ago. Free as a bird, as usual,” Stiles joked but felt a bit embarrassed. He was in his thirties and more than ready to settle down, but he still was holding out hope for the broody alpha who seemed not to care at all about his arrival, just doing laps around the water. Eli smiled at him, though, and the gesture was confusing. “Enough about my love life, um, I hope I’m not interrupting family time.”

“Not at all, you’re more than welcome to join us whenever,” Derek answered as he swam closer to shore to greet the spark. “It’s um, nice to see you,” he forced out.

“Thanks, you too,” Stiles grinned wide, surprised to hear something like that from Derek even after their heart to heart days prior. All he could think of was how close they'd been, of their embrace in the field. All he wanted was to leap into Derek's cool, wet arms and kiss him.

The spark hopped into the water, feeling relieved as it cooled down his body and calmed his mind. The group all swam around for about an hour, chatting casually and catching up. It was nice to talk to Isaac and Cora without Scott being there. If Stiles was honest, he missed both of them all these years. Each of them left without saying goodbye and it kinda hurt. Now, though, it seemed everyone was settling into life happily. Stiles just wasn’t sure where he fit in all of this. Even Malia was family, but seemed not to be interested in Derek or Eli at all. Stiles felt a pang of jealousy seeing Derek embrace Isaac with open arms, seeming so casual with him. Cora swam by Stiles, splashing him harshly and knocking him out of his daze. As he went to retaliate, he noticed she too had a white-purplish bite mark on her neck. Same place as Isaac’s.

“Stiles, Isaac, watch me do a front flip!” Eli yelled to them as he climbed up the small, rocky cliffside up to where Derek had jumped the last time Stiles accompanied the Hales there.

Derek looked over at Cora, offended that Eli didn’t want to show off to him or his sister but she just laughed. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!” He yelled to his son, thinking of the large red mark from his previous belly flop.

“I got it, Dad, trust me!” Eli took a deep breath before vaulting himself off the rock. He did a front flip! But just… kept flipping. Landing, once again, hard on his belly. Stiles laughed loudly, followed by the rest of the adults.

“Good job, you just need to stay tucked in, skittle,” Derek said, patting Eli on the back when he swam up to the group.

“Dad!” Eli cried out in embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry, force of habit.”

Stiles swallowed his nerves and turned to Cora, slicking back his wet hair so it didn’t fall on his face. He crawled out of the water, careful not to step on any slippery rocks. “Hey, I hope it’s not weird but could I ask you something?” Stiles said, quieting his voice as he sat next to her on the beach towel.

“You wanna know about the bites?” Cora guessed.

Stiles nodded.

“Mating ritual. Me and Isaac did ours a few months back. You have known about werewolves for how long now and you don’t know about mates?” She laughed a bit, shaking her head before taking a swig of her water.

Stiles’ cheeks went red, “Oh! I mean I know a bit but I didn’t know there was like… a ritual. Like magic?”

“Kinda magic, and kinda just like a ceremony. It’s usually done by an emissary but it doesn’t have to be.”

“It was magic to me!” Isaac yelled out, holding his hand over his heart dramatically, earning an eye roll from his partner.

“What does the bite actually do?” Stiles asked, unable to contain his curiosity. He let himself look closer, at the individual teeth that formed a circle around her jugular.

“It links us together. We’re bonded forever. We’ll never stray from each other, I can feel what he feels, sense where he is. It’s like we’re two halves of the same whole. It makes us stronger fighters, stronger in every sense really,” Cora explained, a dazed look on her face as her fingers traced the teeth marks on her neck, smiling.

Isaac swam over towards them, stopping right by the water’s edge. “It’s really incredible,” he cut in before standing and walking onto the beach, then throwing his arm around his partner. “I’ve never felt so… safe. It’s like my whole life I felt this hole in my chest and now it’s full.”

Stiles' eyes were wide like a puppy’s. He thought of Derek, but tried not to look around for him. Something in his gut yearned for what they were describing, the idea of Derek’s fangs on his neck were enticing. It couldn’t be done, though, given Derek was an alpha. Stiles thought a crazy magic wedding to Derek sounded awesome, but he didn’t want to be a wolf. “Well, that’s beautiful and amazing. I’m so happy for you guys!”

Deeper in the pool, right by the waterfall, Derek was listening intently. He could smell Stiles' awkward excitement and just a hint of desire in his sweat. Derek was more than surprised by Stiles’ acceptance and openness to the idea. He couldn’t help but look at the pale skin of the spark’s neck and imagine the indents of his own teeth there.

“Thanks.” Cora smiled at him so genuinely it was almost scary. She’d never been so nice to him, almost every remark that came out of her mouth all those years ago was followed by an eye roll or sigh. Now, she just seemed content.

Stiles opened his arms, half-joking. But was surprised when both the wolves leaned in for a group hug. When they touched, he felt so at home. This time he could feel it as his eyes began to glow. Like a tiny campfire under his lids, not painful, just warm.

“Holy sh*t!” Isaac yelped. They both pulled away from the hug and looked at him in awe.

“Woah,” Eli echoed from the shallow water.

Stiles felt embarrassed, shutting his eyes quickly. “Are they gone?” He asked, cringing as he opened his eyes slowly.

“Uh-yeah, is that the spark you were telling us about?” Isaac questioned.

Stiles nodded sheepishly. “Not sure how exactly to control it yet. Sometimes they glow at the most random moments, I haven’t quite figured out what triggers it yet.”

“It’s cool, cooler than our eyes damn. It glows and like…glitters,” Isaac remarked.

“Yeah they’re almost iridescent,” Cora agreed. “Weird.”

Stiles looked away from them and locked eyes with Derek further into the water. He was just staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face that made the spark feel bashful. “Okay can we move ‘ogle Stiles’ hour to a later time? It’s too hot for me to not be in the water right now.” He laughed and ran as deep as he could before diving under the water. In the darkness, he remembered the horrifying sights he'd seen earlier. But knowing Derek, Cora, Isaac, and Eli were right above the waves calmed the dread in his heart.

Chapter 28: Wildflowers

Chapter Text

Derek watched from the shore as Isaac held Stiles on his shoulders, and Cora held Eli on hers and they played chicken in the water. He couldn’t help but let his breath catch in anxiety everytime Isaac playfully shoved her. Wolves healed quickly, and Cora wasn’t at nearly any risk this early in her pregnancy but Derek couldn’t help his fear when Eli leaned forward and shoved Stiles hard, causing Cora to trip on the rocky creek bottom. He shot to his feet.

“Are you sure this is safe?!” Derek yelled, pulling his claw out from his mouth where he was nibbling on it.

“Says the guy I watched do three backflips the other day!” Stiles joked.

Cora took the advantage and pushed her mate so hard it sent Stiles flying off his shoulders, earning hoots and hollers from Eli declaring them chicken masters. Cora rolled her eyes and flicked Eli off her back, sending him face first into the water.

Derek let out his breath, glad that game was finally over. “It's getting to be dinner time, we should all head back soon.”

Stiles swam up to the edge of the water and climbed out, hair dark and wet falling onto his face. Derek tried not to stare, instead handing him a dry towel.

“Thanks,” Stiles smiled at him before fluffing his hair violently with the towel and trying off his chest, arms, then legs. Okay, maybe Derek was staring a bit.

“Are we still doing a barbeque?” Eli asked.

Derek looked over at his phone, checking the time. “Yeah, if we hurry back I can get the grill set up in time.”

“You’re such a dad, do you have a little apron that says grill master?” Stiles remarked, laughing to himself as he tossed a t- shirt on.

“Not yet,” Derek teased back looking at the spark with a smile.

“Still not used to you being able to take a joke, Der, it never won’t be jarring for me.”

The alpha just smiled and tried to ignore the bubbling affection in his stomach from Stiles calling him a nickname. He just went about gathering their things.

“You coming?” Isaac asked as he threw on a hoodie, not bothering to change out of his wet shorts.

“Nah, I wouldn’t wanna interrupt your family stuff anymore than I already have,” Stiles answered.

“What did I say before?” Derek asked, slight annoyance in his tone. “Open invitation.”

“Damn, Stilinski, what did I miss? Since when are you two best of friends?” Isaac snarked, putting his hands on his cheeks in a faux-shocked look.

“Since I brought him back from the dead, I suppose,” Stiles teased back, smelling embarrassed and blooming rosy cheeks to match. “He owes me his life, literally.”

“I do,” Derek said with a smile but every wolf there knew he was being completely honest.

“If you guys want me to come, I will, but I should run home first. The only clothes I brought out here are sweaty and dirty. I’ll take a shower and meet you guys there in like an hour?”

The group all agreed and parted ways. As Stiles headed down a separate trail towards his Jeep, Derek looked back at him. A pang of worry in his heart seeing the spark wander into the increasingly dark woods. He looked over to see Isaac, Cora, and Eli far ahead of him on the trail. “I’ll catch up with you guys at the house, Isaac can you start the grill for me?” Derek said, loudly enough the wolves could hear but not loud enough for Stiles.

Isaac turned around and gave him a thumbs up.

Derek headed off after Stiles, surprised when he didn’t find him immediately down the trail that headed towards the main parking lot. He closed his eyes, and searched for Stiles’ scent. Apples, sweat, and adderall. It was headed left, away from his Jeep. Curiosity got the best of him and, though his stalker days were behind him, he kept quiet as he followed the trail. He leaned down and let his wolf form take over, black fur spreading on his skin and his snout extending. He padded quietly and carefully through the woods until he got a glimpse of pale skin. His stomach sank with dread as he watched Stiles walk towards Derek’s old house. He turned the corner and walked into the thick brush where the family plot was. Derek hid close by, behind a big oak tree.

In Stiles’ backpack, he seemed to have collected wildflowers; lupine, yarrow, desert bells, and poppies. He pulled them out and laid one on every single grave at the plot before dropping down to sit in front of one of the headstones. Derek thought that might be all, until he heard the spark clear his voice. “Hey, I’m Stiles. I don’t have banshee powers so I don’t know if you guys can even hear me… this is so weird,” he shook his head and Derek could smell the anxiety pouring off of him. “But I wanted to introduce myself, I guess. I’m Stiles.” Derek’s heart twisted. “And I’ve seen visions of you all. It’s like I know you, especially Talia… I just wanted to say that I’m so grateful for you guys. If I could fix this all, I would.” Stiles fiddled with his thumbs, “I’m also here to tell you that I-” Stiles paused and Derek could smell salt pooling around his irises. “I love Derek, I think more than I can even explain I love him…” He sniffled a bit, wiping the tears from his amber eyes. “I’ve been seeing these glimpses of him, of you guys in the past. It’s so odd. I just thought you’d want to know that it seems like I’m connected to this land, and to the Nematon. I’ll do everything in my power to protect this land and your family.”

Derek’s heartbeat turned to that of a hummingbird. Stiles loves him? He stumbled back, accidentally snapping a branch. Stiles’ head swung around and Derek, too nervous to stay, bolted off into the woods and towards his house, praying the spark hadn’t seen him. As he ran, he had to fight the urge to let out a victorious howl. Stiles loved him! Derek had to tell him soon.

-

Stiles ignored the noise, assuming it was a deer or something. He looked at the headstones, the gray marble looking almost purple in the early twilight. He closed his eyes and reached inside him for his spark. It sputtered aflame almost immediately and he saw each of those flowers glow, their stems suddenly sprouting roots and sinking into the dirt above the graves. “Woah,” he said, breathless.

The flowers sat themself back upright and grew a few more inches, reaching towards the sky. Stiles smiled. “I hope you like them. I hope you guys would’ve liked me too…” He bowed awkwardly, unsure how to end this one-sided conversation. “Bye.”

Just as Stiles turned away, the wind picked up around him blowing the leaves of all the trees dramatically. It sounded like waves crashing. Then he saw another vision taking over his sight. It flooded his body like a drug, causing him to fall to his knees onto the hot dirt.

“I’m thrilled for you, Claudia, a little boy!” Talia said, her cheeks rosy and her hands covered in dirt. Her dark hair falling in front of her face. She was leaning down, picking weeds from a garden. Stiles could smell the thyme and basil on her hands so strongly, it reminded him instantly of Anam. She looked towards the woman in front of her, Stiles could only make out the dark auburn hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. Then he saw big doe eyes and moles on her thin neck. Mom. His mom.

She laughed and it sounded like heaven, and she plopped herself down on the grass with an exaggerated ‘oof’, and rubbed her belly excitedly. “I bet he’ll be friends with Derek and Cora.”

“Me too,” Talia said before letting out an excited squeak. “He’ll always be welcome here.”

“Thank you, Talia.”

“Any names picked out yet?” The alpha asked, setting down her pliers and wiping the sweat from her brow.

“I think Miecyslaw, after my father, and we can give him nicknames.”

Talia laughed, “It’s beautiful, and unique. Like you.”

Stiles’ mother was never an overly affectionate woman, so he was in shock to see tears well in her eyes as she pulled Derek’s mom in for a hug. “Sorry, it’s the hormones. That was just so nice of you to say.” Talia laughed and told her not to worry, rubbing circles on her back.

“You’re having a boy?!” A little boy, around 4 years old, yelped as he ran over towards them. He had dirt scuffed knees, a shirt with a big monster truck on it, and big hopeful green eyes.

Claudia nodded.

“Can I touch?” he asked, reaching his hand out for her stomach.

“Derek, be polite,” Talia shook her head and swatted the boy’s hand away.

“It’s no problem, he’s not kicking much yet but you’re welcome to feel it.” Claudia readjusted herself to sit back on her knees and Derek got closer.

He reached for her stomach, instantly his mom saw little feet press out of her skin. “Woah!” Derek said, laughing. As his hand met her belly, his eyes glinted gold and Talia’s jaw dropped. She grabbed the edge of his t-shirt and looked at him with wonder. “What’s wrong, mom?”

She had a curious look in her eye, looked back at Claudia, then shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong at all, baby.” Soon enough, Derek was pulled into a tight hug by his mother to which he pouted until she let him go play with Laura and Peter in the woods.

“His wolf is showing up pretty early, huh?” Claudia remarked, smiling and watching Derek run off quickly. Her skin was soaked in late afternoon sun, showing her sunspots and the freckles that painted her nose bridge.

Talia nodded, “I think he’s going to be very strong. So will your little boy,” her smile was wide and radiant. Her dark eyes were set, like she was more sure of what she’d just said than anything.

-

Stiles came to and found, somehow, he’d walked all the way back to his Jeep. Waking up somewhere different than he remembered should’ve frightened him. It should have reminded him of bear traps around his leg and nearly freezing to death. But it didn’t. This warmth was around him, and he was smiling from ear to ear. Derek’s mom knew Claudia. And Claudia knew about them, about werewolves. Stiles remembered Derek vaguely, but only from school. He was always just the kid a few grades above him who never looked anyone in the eye after the fire. He’d never imagined that Derek met his pregnant mother, that Talia knew of their family at all. More than anything, he couldn’t believe his mom knew Derek was a werewolf. It made the wires in Stiles’ brain short circuit.

Talia seemed to really care about Claudia, too. Now that Stiles really thought about it, he remembered his mom’s funeral being packed full of people. Talia and Derek’s family could've easily been there. But Stiles was so distraught, he barely looked at anything but the program in his hands; he just read it over and over and tried to drown out the noise around him. He shoved his face into his Dad’s chest every time someone tried to tell him they were sorry he lost his mom.

After that, their house was always empty. For years, save for Scott and Melissa every once in a while. It was just Stiles and his dad. Picking at dinners, never hungry. Sleepless lights followed by over twelve hours of sleeping in his room, curtains drawn and eyes puffy with tears. His dad barely spoke to him, just drank and watched TV while Stiles hid in his room. It took a few years, but eventually they were okay again. Okay enough, at least. Melissa began to linger in the kitchen when she dropped Scott off, chatted with his dad and sat at the dining table. Scott would bring video games and candy, they’d hide away upstairs for hours. The other boy’s laughs and teasing slowly cured the broken shards of Stiles’ heart.

Stiles thought of all of this as he drove home in a hazy dream state. Aware of his actions, but this fogginess around his mind. He couldn’t get that sight out of his head, of Derek rubbing Claudia’s belly while Talia smiled so sincerely at them. He swore in the vision that Derek’s eyes didn’t glint beta yellow but… spark gold; like his.

-

Derek got to his house just in time. The grill had been perfectly heated and he quickly threw on some burgers, hot dogs, some zucchini and peppers; anything he had left in the fridge. Isaac and Cora sat out on the swing on the back patio, Cora letting her head rest on Isaac’s lap while he played with her hair and gently swung them back and forth. Eli, surprisingly, was laid out in the grass reading one of his summer assignment novels. It was calm, the sound of crickets rang like music in between the grass and swallowed the yard. The smoke of the charring meat made Derek’s mouth water. It was a good distraction from everything the alpha was feeling.

He thought of Talia and Stiles meeting, thought of Stiles running around in that yard with Eli and Isaac. He fought his nostalgic mind when long blonde curls followed tall dark skin and accompanied the group of people he loved that ran on the back of his eyelids. Instead, he requested Isaac’s assistance chopping up some onions and tomatoes for the burgers. The men left the other Hales outside and walked into the kitchen together to gather buns and condiments.

“You know, don’t you?” Isaac asked, lowering his voice as he stacked a plate full of all the fixings.

“Know what?” Derek probed, ignoring his brother in law’s gaze as he grabbed sliced cheese from the fridge.

“About Cora, about us,” Isaac answered.

“Yeah, I heard it this morning. The heartbeat.” Derek looked at him, his mossy eyes crinkling at the corners as a smile spread across his face. “I’m so happy for you two.”

Isaac beamed, big sapphire irises welling with tears. “I’m so excited. And scared,” he admitted. His lips were covered in dry, bitten skin, and his fingernails were nubs. Derek could smell the anxiety radiating off of him; like acid and sour sweat.

Derek nodded, he empathized with the beta. “Being a dad is hard, scary, and just changes everything… but it’s the most amazing part of my life.” He thought of Eli’s fat fingers raising up to pull Derek’s beard. “You and Cora love each other, and I know you will be an amazing father,” Derek’s voice hitched at the last sentence and he could see the concern on Isaac’s face. “You have nothing to be scared of, you are nothing like him,” Derek responded, as earnestly as he could, raising a hand to hold onto the edge of Isaac’s shoulder and squeeze.

The wolf fell into his arms, crying softly but also laughing lightly. “Thanks, Derek. You’re gonna be a good uncle.”

“I can’t wait,” Derek cooed, feeling tears stinging behind his eyes, but as the two men parted Derek heard tires rolling up the driveway. “Oh, Stiles is here.” Derek unconsciously scruffed up his hair, trying to pull it out of his face and adjusted his t-shirt so it wasn’t bunched around his neck. Anxiety and excitement coursing through him. Then, he heard Isaac chuckling.

“You and Stilinski, huh?” Isaac nudged him.

Derek shot him a warning glare, “Don’t say a word.”

“Easy, easy,” Isaac lifted his hands up. “I think you two would be good together. You should go for it. Pretty sure he likes you too.”

“I hear this enough from my son, I don’t need it from you too.” Derek tried to seem mad but could feel the base of his neck and cheeks heating up at the beta’s words.

Isaac just shook his head and carried all the food outside. Derek stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the sink and catching his breath. What was he supposed to do? Pretend he didn’t see Stiles talking to his dead family only a half hour ago, pretend that he didn’t stalk him through the woods, that he didn’t hear Stiles say he loved Derek? It was so much. Derek would pretend as best he could, but he was overjoyed. In love and wanted nothing more than to resolve this all. It still felt just… too soon. The moment needed to be perfect, and rushing it might ruin it. So, he’d put on a brave face and try to tell Stiles later this week.

-

When Stiles arrived, he noticed how different the energy was. He’d never been in Derek’s backyard, only out front where the driveway was. It was pretty, the lawn was lush and full of wildflowers and small gardens, speckled with garden chairs that made it seem like Derek may host get togethers, which Stiles doubted. There was a small campfire lit in a fire pit, eagerly tended after by Eli who greeted him with a sleepy wave. Cora was swaddled in Isaac’s jacket and napping on a swing on the stone patio, surrounded by a big bush of hydrangeas that looked like puffy pastel clouds. Isaac was flipping burgers and gave him an oddly wide smile and wave.

“Hey guys, I stopped and got some beers from Scott’s house. You know, special beers. And a few normal ones for myself.” Stiles waved them around and Isaac eagerly ran over to grab one.

“Thanks dude!” He pulled the cap off with his teeth and Stiles cringed.

“Does being a werewolf also allow you to regenerate your teeth?!”

“Yeah, we don’t get cavities, either,” Eli answered and Stiles could see that he was guzzling a mountain dew with one hand as he poked the sparkling embers with the other.

“Sometimes I wish I took Peter up on the bite,” Stiles joked. “I had to have a friggin’ root canal a few years ago, it sucked,” he whined, thinking about the metal filling in the back of his mouth.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek said as he took over Isaac’s grilling duties.

“Hey there, alpha, wanna beer?” Stiles tossed a bottle towards him that Derek ran to grab with ease, f*cking werewolves and their super speed.

Derek looked at him uncomfortably, his cheeks burning with blush. “You, um, maybe don’t call me that.” He feared that his family could smell his arousal at those words leaving his mate’s lips, he hated himself for something so trite turning him on but he couldn’t help it. Almost every alpha liked being called by their title. Cora woke up and looked at him with a cringe, waddling over with a yawn.

“Oh, why? I was just joking around, you are an alpha now right?” Stiles asked, cracking open his miller lite and taking a few sips.

“Yeah but, I’m not yours. I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to you being, I mean I’m not like I don’t have a pack, really-” Derek was stuttering nervously and it took Cora cutting in to calm him down.

“Easy, dude. You don’t have to freak out about that yet. But we’re all here and ready whenever you are,” she gestured towards her mate and nephew.

Derek took a deep breath, “I’d love to. I just… I don’t know how it would all work. I mean, with Scott and me being technically dead-”

“I have an idea,” Isaac cut in. Everyone turned their heads to look at the blonde. “We could adopt Eli, so legally he wouldn’t have trouble staying here for school. Maybe you could get your own house a bit out of town so you don’t have to hide away as much. I know you’re a homebody but I’m sure only being able to be home or in the preserve is driving you up the wall a bit.”

Derek smiled, but looked over at his son. “That's nice but I don’t wanna leave Eli.”

“You wouldn’t have to! I’m sure if he gets his license soon he wouldn’t mind driving a couple extra minutes to school if it meant not having to move hours away from his friends,” Cora chirped. “You both could stay here until he does get it. I’m just saying, we want to make this work. We want to be a part of your pack. I wanna rebuild the house, too,” Cora started rubbing her belly, smiling. “I heard you and Isaac talking. We wanna raise our kid where we grew up, with Eli and with you.”

Derek ran over to her, followed by Eli who was in tears. “Oh my god!” He screamed. “You’re having a baby?!” He fell to his knees at his aunt's feet and Derek laughed at his silly, soft-hearted son.

Stiles stood there, mouth agape before letting out a cheer. “Hell yeah guys! Congratulations!” He was surprised when Cora’s hand fisted in his shirt and tugged him into the group hug. He was so taken with the moment he almost didn’t notice Derek’s hand resting on the top of his back. Almost. When they parted, it lingered until falling off gracefully to hang by the alpha’s side. He had to bite back his own tears, it was such a gentle moment and he wanted to remember it forever.

Derek looked at him, eyes wide. “Stiles, I don’t want to spring this on you but… just so you know,” the alpha looked down at his shoes and then over towards his family, who just nodded and smiled. Derek cleared his throat, “You are more than welcome in the pack. I know Scott is technically your alpha but-”

“Yes.” Stiles did not hesitate for one second. He promised Derek’s family he would look after them, after the land. And here it was, his opportunity to dedicate himself to something bigger; to a family- to a pack.

“Yes?!” Eli and Derek spat out at the same time.

“Hell yes! I love you guys, I don’t- I don’t wanna leave again. I’ve missed so much. I want to be here for all of you.” They all were forced back into another hug which was, oddly, more intimate than the first. Eli nuzzled into his chest, Isaac’s nose found the soft part of Stiles’ wrist and his face rubbed into it. Cora rubbed her head against the side of Stiles’ face, and Derek stayed right behind him, and he could feel his beard and lips grazing the back of Stiles’ neck ever so softly. The spark knew about this; about scenting. Scott was never really into it, or maybe him just being a big hug guy was enough for him. Malia, however, used to dig her nose into Stiles’ pits and smell before just… licking his neck. Stiles wasn’t going to think about that right then.

“I say we celebrate!” Stiles yelled out. “To the new parents, and the new alpha!” Isaac raised his beer to the sky, and Stiles and Derek clinked, followed by Eli’s soda. They guzzled down their drinks while Cora just shook her head and laughed.

“Sorry, mama wolf,” Stiles said, realizing what he’d done by bringing the exclusive werewolf beers.

“It’s fine, never really liked those anyway they always give me headaches.”

Derek quickly left to pull the food off the grill and told everyone to come make their plates. Everyone ate in content, smiling and talking about how it would all work; how Isaac and Cora could take over Derek’s house, that Cora knew somebody renting out a little cottage in the woods closer to the bay- about 40 minutes out of town. Isaac said he knew somebody from college that they could hire to fix up the big house in the preserve. Stiles listened intently, and a hopeful warmth bloomed inside him. He kept looking at Derek. The smile on the alpha’s face never withered, and Stiles was enamored by it all night. It stayed while it was shoved full of red meat, got even wider while Eli cried about how excited he was to have everyone around, stayed while the adults all sat by the campfire after Eli went to bed, it stayed after four wolfsbane beers and until Cora and Isaac went upstairs.

“You’re really gonna move back here?” Derek asked, cracking the metal off the last beer. He’d tossed on an old hoodie and switched from jeans to pajama pants. He pulled his hood up and swatted a mosquito away from his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think I could stand to leave you… you guys again.” Stiles chugged away at his own brew and was surprised by the happy drunkenness blooming in his cheeks and gut. “My dad’s getting older and I think my time in D.C is over. It’s really draining work. I love it, but I think I would be happier doing something else.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great.” Derek said. “I’m really happy to hear that. I missed you, I promise I'll be a better alpha than the one you remember.” Derek's head hung low after that.

“I missed you too,” Stiles admitted, trying to fight the butterflies in his stomach with every compliment his new alpha gave him. “I’m glad you’re my alpha.” He let his hand wanter to rub comfortingly onto Derek's knee. "Even then, you did the best you could."

Derek’s eyes widened and bit his lip, so quickly and subtlety Stiles almost missed it. He did, though. And it was a sight to behold. In the dark night, the only light was the smoldering tangerine flames that cast dancing shadows across Derek’s skin. Stiles was entranced. The dim light made his pale eyes look dark and Stiles wanted to fall into them. Derek looked at him too, so long Stiles felt awkward. He wondered more than anything what the other man was thinking but was too terrified to ask.

“You’re more than welcome to sleep over, I can take the pull out.”

“I-what?” Stiles choked as bubbly beer went down the wrong pipe.

“You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch,” Derek clarified. "It's getting pretty late, and you don't wanna deal with Cora when she hasn't gotten enough sleep."

Embarrassment seeped into Stiles quickly, and he coughed again, slamming his hand on his chest a couple of times. “Oh right! Of course, sure, yeah.”

They snuffed out what was left of the fire before Derek showed Stiles to his room. “I don’t know, Derek, it’s your bed. I’m happy to take the couch.”

Derek flashed his eyes, “You take the bed.”

Stiles felt himself agreeing, and once he realized Derek had used his alpha powers- Stiles wanted to argue. But, he knew Eli’s room was just down the hall so he gave up and let Derek show him where the extra blankets were before taking one of his pillows and heading back towards the living room. He watched as the wolf closed the door behind him and shot him a quick smile.

Stiles settled into bed, clean and sundrunk from being outside all day. He selfishly rolled over and sank his nose into Derek’s sheets, breathing in the lavender smell of laundry detergent and the earthy scent of Derek’s skin. His body instinctively rolled his hips into it, and he fought the urge. His eyes closed and he drifted quickly into dreams.

He was met by a familiar black wolf, staring at him with glowing scarlet eyes. Stiles was younger, he knew this by the breeze hitting his buzz cut. He followed Derek through dark woods without question, the air was crisp and cool and the wind shook through the thin fabric of his red hoodie. It was autumn and judging by the soreness of Stiles’ shoulders, it was lacrosse season as well. They walked out to the overlook, where Scott and Allison used to meet up. They sat there for a minute and Stiles watched as the orange harvest moon rose above Beacon Hills. It was big and awe inspiring, painting the clouds and forest in warm hues.

Then, the wolf was Derek. Clad in his old leather jacket, still smelling like motor oil and pine. He was leaning back casually against a fallen log. Just watching the moon, the stars, and the twinkling light of the little town down the cliffside. Stiles mimicked him, and they sat in comfortable silence. The wind howled around them, sending dry leaves flying through the air and Stiles felt himself scooting closer to Derek, drawn towards the warmth of his body.

Stiles tasted alcohol on his lips and tobacco on his tongue, looking down and seeing the familiar bottle of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey. Stiles guzzled down the fiery whisky, terrified to look over at the beautiful man next to him. He shuffled his converses into the fallen leaves, crunching them and wrapping his arms around his torso to keep him from the cold. He took another swig of whiskey, hoping it would warm him up.

A few moments passed without notoriety until Stiles felt claws dancing around the nape of his neck, tracing mindless spirals on his skin. He looked over and saw Derek looking at him in veneration, with these wide desperate eyes. Stiles stuttered, unable to speak his desire outloud.

Derek lurched forward, and their lips collided. Stiles let out a broken whimper and let himself fall into the wolf’s embrace, thrilled to lick down his fangs and finally be close to him. It was rough, full of teeth and tongue and Derek pressed him into the cold forest floor. Stiles wrapped his legs around the older man’s waist and used them to pull them closer together.

Stiles woke up in Derek’s bedroom, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His boxers were tight and he huffed, letting his head slam back down onto his pillow. It’d been years since he had a wet dream. His body and his subconscious were surely at the end of their wits trying to get him to go after Derek. He settled for a cold shower. He ran quickly down the hall, hoping he was up before anyone else.

The icy water shocked his system and Stiles didn’t know why, maybe it was the sheer desperation he felt at that moment, but he wanted to scream. It had been so long, over a decade of feeling this inescapable pull towards the wolf. All those years and Stiles had never really moved on. From the very second Derek slammed him against his door, since he felt those hands against his chest and his hot breath ghosting Stiles’ lips- he was cursed.

Chapter 29: Pear Trees and Sycamore

Chapter Text

Derek woke up as he heard the shower head creak on and the water flushing out in thick pools. He yawned as he slid off the couch and pushed his dark hair from his eyes. Standing, the wolf leaned back to stretch out his spine before raising his arms above his head, hearing his shoulders crack. He took a second, just taking in the cool morning air as it blew through the open windows. Then he smelled it. Like black cherries and pear tree flowers. It stopped him in his tracks, and he felt his fangs drop immediately, his loose sweatpants feeling a bit tighter. Despite his better judgment, he followed the scent to his bedroom, his steps quick and deliberately quiet.

When Derek opened the door, the scent hit him like a brick. He nearly fell to his knees. His instincts took over, closing the door behind him and shoving his nose into the sheets; desperate to get closer. His hands twisted in the fabric as he inhaled. The closer he got, the more he could smell Stiles. The flowery cherries blended with apples and campfire smoke and Derek’s own scent; a soft moan left the alpha’s lips. He imagined Stiles, long pale torso twisting with pleasure in bed- in Derek’s bed. His pink lips agape in pleasure and little snores, those big eyelashes falling down on his cheeks.

The alpha fought his desires and stood up, plugging his nose for good measure. He grabbed a lighter from his bedside table before he lit the candle on the top of his dresser and opened the window, hoping that would be enough for the other wolves not to notice. Derek looked around helplessly, running out into the hall and thanking whatever old gods still lived that he found an old can of febreze in the linen closet to spray on the mattress. He held the trigger down and painted it in the air with a heavy hand, a pang of regret hitting his chest as it swallowed up the earthy, intoxicating scent of his mate with artificial lemon and pine. Derek wondered where it even came from. Wolves tended to hate perfumes. His mind drifted to his son and he just shook his head and laughed as he put it back and headed out just as he heard the shower faucet turn off.

He hurriedly ran back out into the living room, sitting back down on the couch just as Stiles opened the door and came back out in his clothes from last night. He looked scared, his eyes wide like a fawn. “H-hey,” he stuttered.

“Morning, want me to make us some coffee?” Derek asked, shooting to his feet and trying to not let on that he knew why the spark had taken an icy morning shower. Also trying to ignore that he could see a large bunch in Stiles’ jean pocket that he could smell were his boxers from last night.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Stiles was nervously biting his lips. “Lemme just grab my phone,” he turned around and when he went back into Derek’s room he immediately noticed the lit candle, the smell of perfume, and the now open window. f*ck. Derek had smelled him, and the wolf came in here to try to purge the smell from his room. The thought caused shame to flood through Stiles’ blood. He just grabbed his phone and headed back outside. “Hey, actually I think I should probably just uh head home.”

Derek noticed the patchy blush on Stiles’ cheeks and the tremor of his hands. “You don’t have to do that, I just um, didn’t want you to be embarrassed… with everyone else here.”

Stiles stilled. They were talking about it. He couldn’t handle this. “Thanks, um, I’m still gonna leave though,” his voice cracked. “I’ll see you later.” And with that, the spark hurried outside in a cloud of shame and fear. Derek heard the Jeep start up and drive away in record time.

Derek leaned over the couch, letting his head fall between his hands. He didn’t handle this the best way. Stiles probably thought he hated the smell or was grossed out by it. That was the opposite of the problem but it's not like the alpha could just say that. Instead, he just resigned himself to making breakfast and trying not to think about going back into his room and pulling the blankets back to smell it again.

Isaac came downstairs first, his curls a frizzy mess on top of his head and his face red with sleep marks. “G’mornin’,” he slurred. Derek slid the wolf a coffee. “Coffee? That doesn’t do anything for us, oh did you make some for Stiles?” The beta turned his head around, clearly searching for the spark’s scent or heartbeat.

“Yeah it was, but he had to go,” Derek replied, hoping his disappointment didn’t leech through his words.

Isaac looked up inquisitively, but thankfully didn’t comment. Just started drinking the black coffee and running his fingers through his hair. “We should make breakfast, Cora’s been starving every time she wakes up. How much meat do you have in the house?”

Derek laughed, “I have bacon and sausage. I can make eggs and pancakes too.”

Isaac nodded in approval. “Hope it's enough.”

-

Stiles’ hands were shaking on the wheel as he drove. He headed towards the city, for whatever reason, maybe he thought if he could get further from Beacon Hills, he wouldn’t have to deal with all of his issues. He’d skipped out before breakfast and hoped grabbing a latte and a bagel would ease his panic. Derek wasn’t mad, but he knew. And that fact would haunt Stiles for the rest of his life. His mind kept picturing the wolf walking into his room and his nose turning up at the scent, over and over and Stiles feared he would never be able to look his alpha in the eyes again.

He sat outside a little cafe downtown, pulling out his phone and scrolling absentmindedly as he waited for his food. He was surprised when a message popped up.

Stiles, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable this morning. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with Isaac or Cora saying anything. - D.H

Stiles facepalmed and hid his screen when the blonde waitress brought over his drink and bagel. He turned the cup around and his eyes bugged out when he saw a string of numbers scrawled on it. His head whipped around to look at her. She smiled down at him with big, hopeful gray eyes painted with mascara and thick false lashes.

“Oh, thanks, but I’m actually kind of desperately in love with my friend,” he admitted, too tired to come up with a lie.

She laughed knowingly, showing off teeth with cool little sparkly gems on them. “Ain’t that always the case. I hope it works out, she’s a lucky girl.”

Stiles blushed a bit, “He’s a dude, and I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I don’t know you but I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to say you’re selling yourself short,” she gave him a pat on the shoulder before turning back to walk inside and behind the counter.

Thankful for the boost of confidence after this terribly embarrassing morning, Stiles tucked into his coffee and delighted at the creamy cinnamon that danced across his tongue. He looked out on the street, watching the morning sun reflecting orange off the windows of the storefronts, the planted palm trees swinging in the breeze down the side of the road. Then he felt his phone buzz again.

By the way, I didn’t think you smelled bad. It was the opposite. -D.H.

Stiles shot hot coffee out of his nose.

-

Derek took Eli school shopping, a few towns over at the big mall. He wore a hoodie and a medical mask, hoping that would be enough to deter anyone from remembering his face from the paper. He picked up over a thousand dollars worth of baby supplies for Isaac and Cora. By the end of the day, Eli was whining like he was five years old again.

“Dad, I’m excited for a little cousin too but, oh my god, this is overkill.” The young wolf had about four bags on each arm, each filled to the brim with unisex onesies, toys, teethers, bottles, diapers, you name it. The rest, which Derek was carrying, were for Cora; soft blankets, teas, massagers, pregnancy pillows, lotions, bath bombs, her favorite candies, and in the cooler in his car was practically all the red meat that the grocery store had in stock.

Derek gave in, realizing it was probably partly the paternal feelings of having betas in his charge again that was making him so desperate to help Cora nest. Also, it was a good distraction from the mess that was that morning with Stiles. “Okay, we can go home. But you need to finish your summer reading, you only have a week left.”

Eli put his hand to his chest, “I swear if you let me leave this mall, I will start my essays tonight too.”

Derek was pleased with that and let his son lead the way back to his car. He checked his phone and sighed at the lack of notifications.

For the next few days, Derek’s phone was glued to his side 24/7. Stiles didn’t respond and the fear was taking a toll on him. The alpha cursed himself for overstepping boundaries like that. Stiles said he loved him, that didn’t necessarily mean it was romantic. Maybe Derek was going about this all wrong.

Regardless of those thoughts, the wolf still slept in the unwashed sheets, feeling the need to smell like Stiles one way or another. Despite the looks from his pack, Derek found himself not caring. He just shot stony glares whenever Isaac would look over at him suspiciously. He had to talk to Stiles, because the longer it went since he'd seen him, the more he felt a familiar urge- the one with inky fur and gnashing jaws. At night, he looked out at the yard and wished to run through the woods endlessly. Instead, he would quiet his breath and listen for the four other heartbeats in his house and focus on them to lull himself to sleep.

-

Three days passed, and Stiles still hadn’t responded to Derek’s message. Stiles knew that he needed to see them soon, after all they were an official pack now. This meant he had duties, and for everyone to feel comfortable he’d need to be around more. Regardless, Stiles just couldn’t face his alpha. It was all so overwhelming and Stiles had other matters to attend to; Those matters being waiting anxiously in the preserve parking lot for his ex-girlfriend.

Stiles watched the midday sun, and the birds flying across the cloudy sky. He leaned against his Jeep, rolling his talisman in between his fingers and craning his neck every time he heard tires coming down the gravel road. He was worried she’d bailed, she was about fifteen minutes late. Lydia was never late. He began fidgeting with the envelope Anam had sent him, flicking the manilla corners anxiously.

Then, a black SUV appeared down the road and came to pull into the lot. Stiles moved out of the way, and tucked the envelope into his hoodie pocket.

Lydia hopped out of the passenger seat, and Stiles couldn’t see the driver thanks to the thick, black tinted windows that surely had to be an illegal modification. She walked around the car and Stiles would’ve lied if he said the sight of her didn’t knock the air out of his lungs a bit. Her hair was pulled up around her face in a messy claw clip, and she wore a mid-length sundress with converse and ruffled socks. “Hi Stiles,” she said curtly.

“Hey Lydia, thanks for coming.” He fought the urge to open his arms and welcome her with a hug.

“Let’s get this over with,” she brushed past him and walked into the woods. Stiles followed behind at her heels.

“Okay, so just remember everything we talked about. All you need to do is try to make contact. I have the photo, and we’re gonna head up to this garden Peter showed me.”

“How exactly do you talk to this woman who lives in the jungle of another country?”

Stiles laughed, “Anam, she showed me how to communicate with water. I don’t know if it's something only we can do, or like only magic users. We can just look into the stream and then we’ll be able to see and hear her, and vice versa.”

“So this spark thing, you’re getting a good hold on it?” She asked, stepping over a big log.

“Yeah, I’m still pretty new to all this but I’ve been having these visions- I don’t know how to explain,” Stiles climbed over a big rock before hopping down.

Lydia stopped, her head whipping around to look at him. “Visions?” He could see the fear in her eyes, and guilt sunk into the spark’s stomach at the sight.

“Oh, they’re not bad-not usually I mean. It’s just like seeing the past I guess. I saw Derek’s family, my mom, all these things. I don’t know if they’re real, though. They feel like they are.”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “How do you see them?”

“I just sit and call out to it, but sometimes it just overcomes me,” Stiles gestured vaguely to the air around him. “Most of the time, when I’m out here in the woods.”

She hummed, before walking forwards. “Where is this garden, exactly?”

Stiles sped up ahead of her, “It’s just up that hill over there. I should’ve told you to not wear a dress,” he laughed.

“I’ve done much more rigorous things than hiking up a hill in a dress,” she replied, a familiar teasing tone in her voice that reminded Stiles of all their time together.

“True,” Stiles agreed and they headed up the steep incline. He offered his hand a couple of times for support, but she didn’t even look up and grabbed a hold of rocks or tree roots instead. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a bit rejected.

By the time they reached the top, Lydia’s annoyance was pouring off of her in waves. Stiles was sure if just one more bug flew into her face, she’d abandon the entire venture. He had to make this quick. “Okay so here’s the photo,” he handed the banshee the envelope, “and we’ll be just over here by the water. Do you have any questions before I call Anam?”

Lydia sat down by the side of the waterfall, crossing her legs and opening the mail. Stiles recognized the well-loved polaroid as it slid out. Lydia traced her hands along the edges, taking it in. “Is this Anam?”

“Yeah the one with the tattoos, that’s her when she was younger. The little girl is her daughter.” He sat down next to the redhead, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“She’s beautiful,” Lydia said and Stiles felt chills go down her spine at the ghostly tone that overtook his ex’s voice. It was one he was all too familiar with.

“Yeah she is… are you ready, Lyds?”

She flipped her eyes back up to look at him, nodding silently. Her once pale skin was now covered with freckles and tan from living in LA, and her features seemed softer, little smile lines appearing around her lips. She was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But, much to Stiles’ surprise, desire didn’t accompany his thoughts of her. Only admiration and nostalgia.

He twisted his body to face the creek, and as soon as he hung over the water he saw Anam. Her familiar dark eyes smiling at him, her sepia toned skin glistening and showing it was bright and sunny at her house. “Stiles!”

“Anam! It’s so good to see you, this is my friend Lydia,” he gestured next to him and looked over.

Lydia was looking in wonder at Anam’s face in the water, and he could see her eyes tracing the image like she was doing calculations in her mind. “Hello,” the banshee said with a little wave.

“My, what a beautiful girl!” Anam declared, “Thank you so much for offering to help me, forgive my excitement, I’ve never met a banshee before..”

Stiles smiled to himself as he watched Lydia’s previous annoyance wither away as she met Anam. She was that kind of woman, so warm and open you just wanted to help her. “Thank you, and it’s no problem at all. I hope I can help you and your daughter. What is her name, by the way?”

A look of pain flashed across Anam’s face, but she smiled regardless. “Taiyari.”

Lydia nodded, “Thank you.”

“Should we begin?” Stiles asked. “I have everything you asked me to bring, Anam, have you set your space up?”

“Yes, I’m ready whenever you two are.”

Stiles stood up and opened his backpack, pulling out herbs he’d collected over the past few days and some he had to borrow from Deaton. Yarrow, mugwort, and hyssop. He made a tea of mugwort and chamomile and handed the thermos of it to Lydia who looked at him skeptically. Stiles ignored her, placing the plants around them as well as bringing out small pieces of paper that were scrawled with divination runes and protection symbols. Lydia’s face turned to one that was impressed, and she took a few heavy gulps of the tea Stiles had brought. He took it from her and finished the rest off before settling down next to her in the middle of the circle he’d created.

“We should join hands,” Anam stated. And before Stiles could question, her hands came out of the water. Three dimensional and clear as day, covered in thick black tattoos. Lydia’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Stiles reached for her hand and she flinched, but accepted his palm in hers. They both reached for either of Anam’s hands and Stiles smiled as she squeezed his fingers in excitement and comfort.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Lydia took one last look at the photograph on her lap, and then took a deep breath. Stiles could sense her nerves, and rubbed her thumb gently with his own.

Stiles watched Anam close her eyes, and he followed suit. As his vision went dark, he immediately felt the air around them change. From the arid dry heat of California to the sticky, humid warmth of the Mexican jungles. He heard the birds and bugs singing loudly, and smelled the familiar scent of Anam’s herb garden. He fought the urge to peek, instead just listening to Lydia’s melodic voice.

“Taiyari, can you hear me?” Lydia asked. “Taiyari, my name is Lydia, this is Stiles, and we are here with your mother to help you.” They were met with silence. Lydia continued despite it. “Taiyari, are you lost?”

Stiles could hear the tropical birds go quiet, and the air around him stilled. It felt like he was floating under water, the pressure like a heavy blanket on his chest. Anam spoke with tears clearly in her voice, “Tai…”

Stiles opened his eyes and saw he and Lydia were standing by the birdbath in Anam’s backyard. Despite it being day time, the sky was dark against the sycamore leaves that surrounded Anam’s property. The same orange butterflies that fluttered around the air, had all settled on flower petals and the long grasses at Anam’s feet, as if they could sense the change too. Stiles looked over and gasped, as he saw the long, tawny limbs of a young girl standing at her mother’s side. She looked real as any of it did, save for this hazy white glow that painted the edges of her body. She was beautiful, and had the same freckles on her nose that her mom did. Stiles ignored the pain in his chest as he thought briefly of the ones that painted his own mother's skin.

“Mama,” she cried as she leaned against Anam’s arm. Anam was clearly fighting the urge to drop their hands, instead she lifted her elbow and watched in glee as the girl ducked underneath it and wrapped her arms around her mother’s stomach.

“Hija, are you alright my love?” She asked, tears falling down her tan cheeks. Her smile was wide and her dark eyes glittered with hope. "I can't believe it worked!"

Taiyari nodded, pushing her nearly knee length black hair out of her face before nuzzling her face into her mom. “I’m just waiting for you, mama. I’m alright, I’ve been with you the whole time.”

Anam looked up at Stiles and Lydia, who both were crying but didn’t want to say a single word. This wasn’t about them. “Thank you, I can’t thank you enough,” the older woman cooed.

“We’re in no rush to leave, Anam,” Stiles promised. “Please, take your time.”

A few minutes passed, the two talking in a mix of spanish and nahuatl that he couldn’t make out. Stiles watched in bittersweet awe as Taiyari and Anam embraced, rocking back and forth as the older woman cried. “I missed you so much, hija. My little girl. I will be with you soon, I am so sorry I failed you.”

Taiyari shook her head, “I’m okay, mama. You didn’t fail me, I promise.”

Anam looked to Stiles again, “I knew from the moment we met, you were something special, little spark. I am so glad to have met you.”

“Me too, Anam, thank you for everything,” Stiles replied in earnest.

She let her hands go and Stiles felt like he’d been tossed into a tornado, just for a moment. Swirling in infinity. Then, just as quickly, he was hot and in the sunny California woods once again. His head whipped around, taking in the familiar sights of the preserve. Lydia sat next to him in the mossy bank, looking at him in awe.

“Thank you,” he said, wiping the tears from his honey eyes.

Lydia just nodded, brushing off the leaf litter from her dress. It was awkward and silent as Stiles packed up all of his ritual materials, tossed the flowers into the water and let them run down the falls. By the time he was done, Lydia was looking at him with tears in her dark green eyes.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?” As the words left Stiles’ lips, Lydia crashed into his arms, almost causing him to fall. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Hey, hey, are you okay?” He tried to grab her chin so she’d look up at him.

She nodded but kept her face buried in his chest. Stiles let himself ease into the embrace, running his hands in comforting spirals on her back, taking in the familiar vanilla and bourbon scent of her favorite perfume.

They parted and Lydia just choked out, “I’m sorry, Stiles. I still can’t- I can’t tell you why I left. But you have to know, I did it for you. I did it to save you.”

Stiles looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What-what do you mean?” He stuttered.

“I saw you dying, and I’m the only one that can stop it from happening. So you need to stay here, and I’m gonna leave by myself. Do not follow me… I really am sorry.” Then, she ran down the hill in a flash of strawberry blonde. Stiles fell to his knees and let himself rest on the mossy forest floor, the wet moss turning his jeans dark at his knees. The forest was quiet and he had no clue what the hell just happened. Then, he heard a howl echo through the woods.

Chapter 30: Blood and Honeysuckles

Chapter Text

Stiles came to and immediately felt his blood run cold. A mangy, dark brown wolf was on top of him, his front legs on either side of Stiles’ torso. Its fur was patchy and its lip was flipped up exposing long fangs. It growled low in the back of its throat. Fear ran through his veins, cold and icy. Stiles tried to move away and, when he did, the wolf snapped at him, its frothing spit dripped down onto Stiles’ face.

“Awughh gross,” Stiles pulled head away, craning his neck as he wiped the warm, slimy liquid off his cheek.

The wolf’s eyes turned a vibrant, ice blue and Stiles paused. Could it actually be him? “Peter?!” Stiles yelped, amber eyes wide in shock. He shifted up on his elbows, so he could look at the creature better, the fallen twigs and rocks under his skin pressing into the bony flesh of his elbow uncomfortably but when he tried to sit up further, Peter growled at him again in warning.

The wolf leaned back a little and Stiles realized its form wasn’t unlike that of Peter’s alpha form, it could stand on its back legs, but stayed leaned over on its haunches. He was still lingering above Stiles’ legs, clearly showing he had no intent of letting Stiles get up, if he even tried to sit up he’d start growling and gnashing his teeth.

“What is wrong with you?!” Stiles pressed, raising his voice in anger. “Let me go, dude!”

Even though it was Peter, he seemed so off. He was twitchy, and his irises seemed to shrink and swell quickly and in bizarre patterns. Stiles didn’t know Peter ever fully shifted into a wolf, and the sight was jarring. Especially given how thin and mangy he appeared. A chorus of howls echoed from the other side of the woods and Stiles knew what he was supposed to do. He had to howl. But he couldn’t bring himself to let out another noise. When Peter heard the calls, his head snapped to the side and he snarled. Stiles wouldn’t even have time to fight back before the wolf could crush Stiles’ leg between his jaws. He searched his mind for ideas- anything he could do to let his pack know where he was. He came up blank and just prayed they could find him through scent alone.

“Easy puppy,” Stiles tried to joke while he shuffled awkwardly on the ground. Peter immediately looked back at him and moved to cover more of Stiles’ body with his own. His snout lowered and he pushed up the spark’s shirt, clearly trying to scent him. Stiles reflexively swatted him away, “Ew, stop!” He yelled loudly, kicking his foot out to knock Peter in the stomach.

The wolf snapped, only missing Stiles’ skin by less than an inch.

Stiles fought his instincts and closed his eyes, reaching for his spark. It was black and he searched until he found it; flickering like a dim candle in his chest. Small, but there. Stiles reached out and let the flame dance around his fingers. He opened his eyes and could see his skin gleaming, and see Peter’s fur illuminated by the light. He pushed Peter, shocked when the wolf actually toppled over. Where he’d pushed, on Peter’s shoulders, the light lingered but only for a moment.

Then, Peter was up again and circling Stiles like a shark. His huge paws snapping twigs underneath them easily. The spark twitched around, following the wolf’s movements, his arms outstretched and wishing more than anything he’d brought his gun with him. If he was going to try this whole summoning weather thing, it’d have to be now.

He looked up to the clouds, then down at the ground. Envisioning a bolt of lightning. He swung his hand up and immediately felt it shock him, he fought the buzzing that rattled his bones and threatened to strike him down. Instead, he pointed the opposite hand towards the wolf. It missed him nearly, but burned the ground of the garden with a black stain. He thought back to how he’d promised Talia he would protect this land, not harm it.

Then, he saw Peter’s eyes flick over Stiles’ shoulder in fear but Stiles didn’t follow their gaze. He didn’t have to, he could feel their presence nearing. His mind shot to the mycelium roots, and he felt the pad of paws and feet heading up the hill with urgency. Stiles fell quickly to his knees.

Just as Stiles ducked down, Derek launched over his head, landing on four paws and growling, taking Stiles’ place in front of the other wolf.

Stiles felt hands on his shoulder, and looked to see Isaac and, to his surprise, Scott and Allison behind his packmate. Allison’s bow was drawn and Scott’s eyes ablaze with his claws and fangs on display. Stiles quickly turned back around, worried for his alpha.

Derek and Peter had begun fighting, and Stiles hooted as Derek tossed Peter into a tree, and the resounding crack made him cringe. Then he came back with vengeance and tackled Derek into the flower beds, exploding a mess of dirt and flowers.

Scott and Isaac lept into action, running around to slash as carefully as they could at the two fully shifted wolves but it proved difficult. They both rolled down the hillside in a cloud of ripped fur and flesh. The rest of them ran fast and tumbled down the cliffside after the wolves. Allison shot off arrows that missed them, and Scott warned her not to hit the black wolf.

Derek yelped out in pain, and as soon as Stiles heard it he immediately felt a wave of heat overcome his body. He began to glow again, but this time the sparkles were so bright he could see them fall off his skin and float into the air around him, they were leaving the ends of his veins and just floating out of his skin. He looked back at Peter, and screamed, running towards them, Isaac and the rest of the group right at Stiles’ heels. He grabbed Peter’s neck and tried to pull him off of Derek, and Stiles’ eyes went wide as the very place he grabbed erupted in flames.

The wolf howled in pain, immediately letting go of its grip on Derek’s leg to roll onto the ground and try to put the fire out. Stiles felt the air woosh next to him and saw arrow after arrow sink into Peter’s walnut fur. The spark turned his head and he saw Allison, loading and shooting off her silver-tipped arrows with surgical precision, hitting Peter's joints and rendering him unable to walk. The wolf cried out and the blood that poured out of him was thick as it painted the grass red.

Stiles knew he was brighter than a f*ckin’ glowstick but he couldn’t help it. Rage was pouring through him, and he aimed his hands at the pathetic wolf in front of him, as he did he couldn’t believe the feeling that overwhelmed him. It was different than anything else he’d felt with his spark, it was like a sea of bubbles, like getting pulled into a riptide and washed to sea. His arms were suddenly surrounded by thick, foaming water that poured at Peter like a fireman’s hose. Stiles could feel the shocked looks everyone surely had but knew he had to continue, he took a breath and thought of snow storms, of christmas, of the cold chill on his cheeks when he saw Derek’s car parked at Stiles’ house all those years ago, of shuffling off his jacket at thanksgiving. Before he knew it, ice was shooting from his fingertips, still glowing but now the color was a strange peachy-lilac combination. Peter was stuck in ice, and Stiles fell to his knees when he gave up. Feeling alive but burnt out all at once.

Stiles then noticed something wet against his hand, and looked down to see Derek’s nose pressing against his palm before giving it a small lick. Stiles scratched his head lovingly. Finally taking a deep breath, letting himself stop for that quick moment of relief.

Then, he was tackled by blonde curls on one side and tan skin on the other. “Holy sh*t, dude! When the hell did you figure that out?!” Isaac yelped and buried his nose into Stiles’ neck.

Scott echoed, “Yeah! That was so badass!” He squeezed Stiles from the other side and then pulled off, his red eyes fading and his claws sinking back into his nail beds.

Stiles gently stood back up and laughed a bit, “I have no clue. It just happened.”

“Do it again!” Isaac begged.

“He’s probably tired, guys, ease up,” the voice made Stiles head whip. Derek was out of his shift, standing there in just boxers (which Stiles only guessed Isaac or someone had brought for him.) His leg was healing, but still bloody from Peter’s bite. Otherwise, besides the dirt, he looked unscathed.

Stiles easily fell into his arms. Like he was coming home to his bed after a long day. “Derek, are you okay? I’m so sorry I just woke up and he was there above me and I couldn’t howl. I don’t know what’s wrong with him-”

“Stiles,” Derek warned. “Calm down, it’s fine,” he rubbed the spark’s back softly, gently squeezing him tighter in the hug before pulling back. His hands rested on Stiles’ hips and for some reason, that felt more intimate than the hug. “Thank you for taking care of Peter, it was… incredible,” he admitted. Derek couldn’t believe how powerful his lanky little human was becoming.

Stiles beamed, “Thank you for saving my ass. Like always.”

“Oh, so you admit I was the one who saved you in North Carolina?” Derek responded, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t let it go to your head, sourwolf,” Stiles barked back, his cheeks heating up with blush.

“I thought I was just a wolf now,” Derek snarked.

“Sooo…we’re gonna go chain up Peter at the Hale house…” Isaac cut in, letting his voice linger awkwardly to show his uncomfortability. “Maybe you two should stay here,” he suggested.

“Work some things out,” Scott finished Isaac’s sentence before he, the beta, and Allison all disappeared with the alpha carrying Peter, still stuck in ice off into the woods.

Derek immediately took a step away, trying to gain some distance from the spark. Stiles didn’t move. He felt frozen in place at Isaac and Scott’s insinuation. He knew he had to address it, hell Derek had practically told him he thought Stiles… body smelled good. The topic, though, still seemed like a looming anvil over his head, ready to squash him to rubble if he made the slightest misstep. His mind flooded with memories of hours in a chlorine pool- the two of them stuck together and heaving for breath. To teasing and punches, to almost kisses and teary eyes.

“Try the water thing again, I want to see if you can do it without worrying you were going to die,” Derek said so bluntly that it caught Stiles off guard. The wolf was trying to give him an out. A way to ignore what just happened and focus on something else entirely. And Stiles was more than grateful.

Stiles nodded even though he knew Peter was no threat to him that moment he shot waves at him, that he was doing it to protect Derek, he agreed despite. The spark closed his eyes, thinking of oceans and creeks and babbling brooks, those that weaved like thread across the forest he’d known his whole life. He immediately saw Anam’s face, rippled like she was floating just underneath the water. Then, he felt the ease of which his body flew through the water of the swimming hole. He opened his eyes and saw bubbling water swirling around his arms in a thin layer. He even saw it sink into the few scrapes and cuts he’d gathered over the course of the fight, the blood washing away and healing quickly. How strange it is to be anything at all, especially in a world like this.

Derek watched him in awe. And he wanted Stiles so badly it could kill him. He watched Stiles, arms glowing bright as they flooded with the water that seemingly came out of nowhere, the liquid wrapping his limbs and shining. It was unlike anything Derek had ever seen. When he let it go, it splashed everywhere and Stiles’ laugh roared through the trees. He turned to Derek, clearly proud of himself and looking for reaction. He stepped closer into a sunny spot out of the shady underbelly of the forest. His eyes like sunsets filtered through a whisky glass. In those orbs, Derek saw every fight, every laugh, every touch, every lingering gaze towards each other’s lips, every bloodied battle, every goodbye, every reunion. He saw Stiles hunched over headstones and confessing his feelings. Then, he felt the surge of possessiveness in his chest that flared when he saw Peter circling his mate like prey just minutes ago. Stiles looked at him with this wide-eyed expression, his head titled like a confused puppy. Derek couldn't wait one more second.

Like a man possessed, the wolf stepped forward and grabbed the fabric of Stiles’ shirt and balled it up in his fist. Yanking Stiles towards him and crashing their lips together finally, finally.

It was like lightning shocking his nerves, and he could hear choirs of angels singing heavenly vibrations in his head. Pouty lips pressed together, and they bloomed baby’s breath and honeysuckles in their wake. Derek breathed in and slid his tongue inside, tasting stardust, blood, and flowers. Stiles gasped and brought his hands to lace into Derek’s dark hair, tugging gently to bring him closer. As if they could get any closer.

Stiles' eyes went wide when Derek kissed him, but as quickly as he yelped, he melted into the heat of Derek’s mouth. Stiles’ legs felt like jelly and cherry blush surely was covering his cheeks and chest. Derek tasted like coffee and lavender and felt like a livewire and Stiles licked into it, wanting to consume every ounce of the man he loved so desperately. Years of yearning, building to this moment- bursting nebulas in the spaces between the wolf’s teeth. Stiles could feel his body reacting, the glow beginning to light inside him. He whimpered and pulled the wolf- his wolf closer.

After what felt like seconds or an eternity, they parted. Lips glossy with spit and huffing out air. Stiles let out a giggle, like chirping chickadees. His hands were still in Derek’s hair, he moved them down around the wolf’s neck. Derek let his hands fall to Stiles’ waist. Derek’s scarlet red eyes were glowing bright, and Stiles’ were even brighter gold. The older man smiled and Stiles felt his gut stir when he saw Derek’s fangs peek out, laughing a little bit.

“Wow,” was all Stiles could say. His heart felt like a bird battering around in his rib cage. His fingertips were buzzing and slippery with nervous sweat. He felt his spark sputter into this eternal flame in him. His body was warm. He grabbed Derek’s face, watching as his veins lit up as well, on and around his lips, slowly dissipating and then gone a few seconds later. “I made your blood glow,” Stiles explained, letting his hands fall down off Derek’s face.

“Your whole body is glowing, especially your chest,” the wolf said, his voice low and thick.

Stiles craned his head down and unbuttoned his flannel to look at the skin on his chest. His blood vessels were lit up and on his chest it spun into three perfect spirals; a triskele. “What the f*ck?!” Stiles yelped, his voice hoarse with emotion and shock. His hands rubbed over the spot where the symbol was.

Derek put his hand on top of the spark’s. Speechless, he smiled in shock and wonder, unable to do anything but just look at his mates’ face. He wanted to remember this. He traced the perfect swoop of Stiles’ button nose, counted his moles and freckles, watched as his bambi eyelashes batted, sat in awe as the tree roots of his veins pulsed with gold light. Derek’s wolf was so close to the surface his vision was tinged rose.

This feeling that Derek had in his gut entire life, what he, in that precise moment, finally recognized as homesickness; it finally withered away. He could feel his wolf stretching beneath his skin, extending its paws to fit inside his hands, nuzzling his nose into Derek’s skull; like it had finally settled comfortably inside him. A howl forced itself from his lips, loud and ecstatic. Stiles must’ve felt something akin because he grinned widely and laughed.

Chapter 31: Keeping Quiet

Chapter Text

Stiles was still reeling from the fight, from the kiss, and as the reality of it all set in he found himself close to panic. The two had parted and began to head towards the house, the air hot and full of unasked questions. Were they together now? What was next? So instead, Stiles went for a distraction. “How was that Peter?” Stiles asked as he followed Derek through the woods and back towards the Hale property. Something that was getting easier and easier for Stiles to naturally know where it was, no matter where in the forest he may be.

“I have no clue…” Derek shook his head, “He seemed crazed almost-”

“Feral,” Stiles cut in.

Derek looked over at him, nodding gently.

“How could that be? Doesn’t he have an anchor? He never seemed to have any control issues before…well, he had control issues but not about his transformation,” Stiles raked his fingers through his hair and shuffled past the stickerbrush close to the trail the two men were following.

Derek shook his head again, “He must’ve lost his anchor.” The wolf looked at Stiles, pausing for a moment.

Stiles looked back at him and the silence hung awkwardly in the air. “Oh,” the spark huffed out, dejected. Could it really be that, somewhere along the line, Stiles had become Peter’s anchor? So quickly? It seemed unreasonable. But, then again, Peter was not always the most reasonable person. Hell, he was completely unpredictable.

“Hey, over here!” Isaac yelled out from the front yard, thankfully saving Stiles and Derek from an awkward conversation. The two hurried inside the house, following those blonde curls into the back room.

It felt odd to be in the abandoned house, especially now that Stiles knew what it looked like before the fire. Before all of this, it was so lively and beautiful. Now it was a monument to torture and pain. Stiles didn’t understand how Derek ever spent time here, if it were Stiles, he’d avoid this place like the plague. As they turned into the largest room, the one the least rotted and torn down, Stiles saw that scraggly, bloody brown wolf knocked out in the corner. Scott had bound Peter fully in chains. For some reason, the sight of him made Stiles’ chest twist in pity. Stiles was surprised to see Allison and Chris on either side of the wolf, tasers armed and ready.

“This is far from a permanent solution,” Chris declared, annoyance thick in his tone. The older man was decked out in weapons, an M-16 strapped around his shoulder, two holsters with double Glock 19s and extra magazined stuffed in his belt. Seemed a bit overkill, but Stiles didn't say anything.

“Well, do you have any other ideas?” Derek asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Chris sighed, scratching his beard for a moment. “I guess we could put him down in the vault, or maybe I could ask some old contacts if they have any cages.”

“Lovely,” Stiles snarked. “Are you kidding?! We can’t just stick him in a cage! We have to turn him back!”

“Why do you care?” Argent asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek cut in, “Stiles is right. He’s feral. We have to figure out how to get him out of it or he’ll kill everything in his path.”

“He won’t get the chance,” Allison said, her eyes glassy and loomed over with haze. At her words, Scott was immediately at her side.

“It won’t come to that, I promise,” he rubbed her shoulder gently before looking towards the group. “We should put him in the vault for now, just so he doesn’t hurt anyone. Is that alright, Derek?”

The older wolf nodded, “I’m gonna need to move a lot of stuff out of there. I don’t want him tearing it all up.”

“No problem, we can all come help,” Isaac chirped, walking away from Scott, towards Stiles and his alpha.

“Oh, actually me and Allison can’t, someone should stay and watch Peter,” Scott interjected. "I know he's out right now but who knows when he'll wake back up. Deaton also said he was going to stop by to look at him before we move him."

“Not you,” Isaac laughed a bit. “Me, Cora, Eli, and Stiles.”

Scott gave a confused look, before his eyes darted between the beta, the alpha, and his friend. “Since when are all of you… a ‘we’?”

Stiles cringed a bit, “Oh, yeah I guess we never said anything to you. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what, exactly?” Scott asked, the slightest hint of a growl deep in his throat, hiding behind his words.

Stiles stepped forward but Derek stopped him, holding his hand out in front of Stiles’ chest. Derek took a breath and looked at the other alpha. “I became an alpha before I died… and they’re my pack now. I was going to talk to you about it soon but I haven’t had the time.”

“What? But you and Stiles were in my pack!” Scott’s eyes went red but were full of hurt, their flashing triggering Derek’s to do the same in rebuttal.

“I haven’t been a part of your pack in a long time, Scotty,” Stiles interjected. “And I don’t want to have to remind you again that it was a choice you made the second you decided not to include me in everything that was happening here!”

Scott opened his mouth but said nothing.

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ back and just let it rest there, hoping it would calm the spark down. “I can’t be a beta when I’m an alpha,” Derek announced. “Isaac and Cora were looking for a pack, I’m their family. Eli is my son. Stiles is-” he didn’t know what to say. The spark looked up at him, though, and their eyes met. This comfortable softness that let him know Stiles didn’t need him to answer that right now. “Stiles made the choice to join.”

Scott looked like the men in front of him were strangers. “Why would you do this to me?” He asked, looking mostly at Stiles but it was clear he meant it for the both of them.

“I didn’t do this to you, I did this for them,” and ‘for Derek’, went unsaid. Stiles stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and shuffled the dried leaves awkwardly on the floor. “We can talk more later, I don’t wanna fight with you, dude.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Me and Chris will drop Peter off in a few hours. You have until then to clean out the vault,” he said, voice stoney. He turned his body around completely and leaned into Allison’s arms.

The pack didn’t need to hear any more, they walked out back towards Derek’s house without another word.

-

“Soo that was awkward,” Isaac said once they got far enough down the path that Scott wouldn’t be able to hear them, baring his teeth in a weird little smile.

Stiles huffed, “I thought Scott would be more reasonable but why am I always surprised he’s still the same as he’s always been? We keep doing this! Since I've been back it's like he just is looking for reasons to hate me."

“He’ll get over it,” Derek said bluntly.

“He better, cause we aren’t going anywhere,” Stiles answered, loyalty running through his words like ice.

Derek smiled a bit at him, but tried to bite it back to hide it. Just turned his head towards the trail and pretended as if the acorns and twigs on the ground were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“Did you two have fun down there after me and Scott left?” Isaac asked, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“I found out I can heal stuff with my magic water stuff,” Stiles answered, trying to push the topic away.

Derek hummed and increased his pace, walking further up the trail than his pack, clearly wanting to avoid the conversation at hand. Stiles didn’t need Derek to tell him how he felt about telling people. Stiles felt the same. It was new, and they needed to wait until they told everyone else.

“Woah, really? What exactly is this spark thing, are you just like the avatar or something?” Isaac questioned as they started up the incline towards the edge of the preserve.

Stiles laughed, relieved that Isaac took the bait, “I have no clue, dude. I have been having crazy visions but I don’t think it’s the avatar state.”

“I always knew you were weird,” Isaac playfully slammed into Stiles’ side, sending him stumbling through the underbrush.

“Says you, scarf,” Stiles barked back as he got up and chased after Isaac. He almost caught him as they broke out of the woods and into Derek’s backyard.

“I wore a scarf one time!” Isaac whined. “You’re not gonna catch me, I’m way faster than you!” The beta laughed as he dodged Stiles' tackle and sent the spark tumbling to the ground.

“Can you two stop playing around and go get Eli and Cora while I hook up the trailer to my truck?” Derek asked, gesturing to the house, a tired amusem*nt in his voice that was so paternal.

“Yes, alpha o’mine, no problem,” Stiles said with a little salute and ragged breaths from running after Isaac. A wave of pride rushed through him when he heard Derek let out a soft chuckle and smile before hopping into his truck and driving it down to the shop lot down the driveway.

Stiles followed after Isaac and when they got inside, they were both tackled with hugs. Eli squeezed Stiles and Cora nearly sent her mate through the wall behind him with her forceful embrace.

“We’re okay, baby,” Isaac said, rocking his partner gently in his arms. “It was Peter, though. He’s gone feral.”

“I hate that I couldn’t be there,” Cora said into his chest, her voice muffled by Isaac’s shirt.

“I can’t let you guys get hurt,” Isaac said so softly and earnestly it made Stiles’ heart swell.

It only continued when Eli hugged him. Stiles felt this wave of care when Eli pulled away a bit and looked up at him with watery eyes. Stiles would never get over how much they looked like Derek’s. The kid was so cute, and Stiles felt the urge to pinch his cheeks like Stiles’ mom had always done to him. He figured it was the pack magic bonding the two of them close despite them not knowing each other well.

“Dad’s okay right?” Eli asked, his voice shaking.

“Of course,” Stiles swore, rubbing Eli’s shoulder. “Everything’s alright. Nothing we can’t handle. We just all have to clear out stuff from the vault so that we can keep Peter down there until we figure out how to get him back.”

Cora sighed and nodded. “Let’s get going then.”

Eli pulled his sneakers on and they all headed out to the driveway to meet Derek.

-

Stiles found himself in the passenger seat. Isaac and Cora in the back with Eli squished between them. He’d expected a fight for shotgun but they all climbed into the car in order as if this arrangement had been commonplace. The spark almost felt like he didn’t deserve the seat, but Derek’s soft smile made his anxiety melt away.The truck started with a bubbling engine and they were off towards the school. Derek explained what happened to Eli and Cora, and Eli begged Stiles to show him his powers some time to which Stiles agreed until Derek gave him a terrified look that made him follow it up with 'maybe'.

Once they arrived, that same odd mix of traumatic flashbacks and nostalgia filled Stiles’ chest as they pulled into the school. It looked the same as it always did. Palm trees and concrete, big stone sign, and blue lockers lining the halls. The parking lot was empty, save for a few cars that were most likely janitors. He took a deep breath and helped carry empty boxes from the trailer down into the vault.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna start school again,” Eli groaned as Derek opened the heavy vault door.

“You’ll be fine,” Derek promised and showed his son into the vault. “This is everything we have left. The left side is mostly paperwork and stuff, the right is gonna be important things. Honestly we should take everything we can.” The betas all hummed in acknowledgement and got started packing it all away. There was much less stuff in there than the last time Stiles was here, so it shouldn’t be too much work. Stiles still had no super strength, and the wolves were lapping him in the amount of stuff packed and taken up to the trailer.

It was cold down there, and in the shadows Stiles saw memories of Malia’s black-stained lips. He ignored them and just kept packing. Everyone was eerily quiet other than the random ‘where should I put this?’ or ‘keep or leave?’ directed at Derek. Stiles paid extra attention to the books, finding journal after journal stamped with the three spiral pattern, the same one that he'd seen on himself. He fought the urge to open them, instead tucking them into the book box. He found vials of powders, claws, hair, teeth, anything you could think of. He wanted nothing more than to ask but everyone else was so quiet he didn't want to disturb them.

In the silence, Stiles’ mind seemed to keep going back to his alpha. To the kiss, the way his eyes flashed red at Stiles and made his gut stir, and to that damned triskelion spiral that formed on his chest. He wanted nothing more than to talk to Derek about it, but they couldn’t with everyone else around. Stiles had to bite his tongue, and that wasn’t something the spark had ever been very adept at.

He managed, however, to keep his mouth shut. All day and all night. Packing, driving home, helping Derek take the boxes down into the basem*nt. He never said a word about the kiss or what his spark had done. Either way, he couldn’t stop staring at Derek’s lips and remembering the way the veins around them had wiggled with the remnants of Stiles’ spark, how they’d tasted so good and how badly Stiles wanted to kiss them again. When he drove back to his house that night, he swore he could hear a howl in the woods again.

Chapter 32: Cherry Blush

Chapter Text

In his dreams, Stiles was haunted by this shriveled dog at his feet. It was brown but covered in thick, crusty blood. Its ribs were jutting out and his hips poked out like blades. It whimpered and nipped at Stiles legs. It looked up at him with eyes so icy blue they were almost white, and Stiles felt the name leave his lips, “Peter,” tears fell down his cheeks and he reached down to put his hand on the matted fur. He wanted to save it, but another part of him told him to walk away. To let it rot.

Then, his jaws extended and showed a mouth full of white foam and thick spit, the fangs closed over his hand before Stiles could react, shredding through his muscle and crushing his bones under its strong jaw. He screamed out and shot up in his bed.

-

Stiles woke up to the sound of knocking on his window. He was sweaty and jumped and reached for his gun that was tucked under the back of his bed, aiming it towards the darkness in front of him. “Who’s there?” He called out. Fear ran through him and his hands were shaky as his thumb flicked down to hold the trigger.

Red eyes flashed in the darkness on the roof outside of his room and he could hear laughter. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Derek?” He asked, exhausted but relieved. He leaned over to turn on his bedside lamp to the dimmest setting before flopping back onto the mattress, taking a deep breath and sliding his gun back behind the bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the wolf said quietly laughing as he crawled through the window. He was dressed in black jeans and an oversized hoodie, and Stiles could smell sweat and the forest on his skin as he quietly hopped into the room.

“Somehow I don’t believe that’s true.” Stiles calmed his breathing before sitting back up, only to find Derek was much closer now. Barely a foot from the edge of Stiles’ bed. The alpha loomed over Stiles who was much shorter than him in this position. His heartbeat quickened and heat ran through his body as he swallowed.

“Maybe I wanted to scare you a little, like I used to back then,” Derek said, still trying to quiet his voice. All it did was make it sound lower, more raspy and soaked with sleep. Derek couldn’t help himself. He really had come to talk but then he saw Stiles, sleepy eyed and shirtless, smelling like sweat and apple cider. When Derek stood over him, Stiles looked up at him through those camel lashes and batted his eyes and Derek knew he couldn’t resist trying to tease him.

“You never scared me,” Stiles quipped, trying to be snarky but wanting nothing more than to grab the wolf and crash their lips together. Still, he stayed seated. Looking up at the wolf like a god, enamored by the red glow of his eyes and his insinuation that he wanted to get a rise out of Stiles.

Derek rolled his eyes as he leaned down to sit on the floor in front of Stiles so they were eye level. “That’s not true. I can tell when you’re lying, remember?”

Stiles knew his cheeks were probably as red as cherries, and he could feel blood pooling lower into his body. “Why are you here?”

“I thought we should talk,” Derek replied, grinning because clearly he'd won their little challenge. “After everything that happened.”

Stiles nodded, pushing his hair out of his face. His eyes looked dark in the dimly lit room. “Yeah, you’re right. We should…talk.” Their eyes were locked together and it felt as if time had slowed down. Stiles could see Derek’s shoulders rising and falling with every breath, feeling himself inching closer, leaning over off the bed.

Then, he said f*ck it and lunged forward, grabbing the collar of Derek’s hoodie and crashing their lips together. Derek let out a quiet yelp but quickly kissed the spark back. It was unlike the last kiss, it wasn’t sun-soaked and emotional and life changing. It was rough and hot and full of tongue, it was dark and desperate clawing at each other to try to get closer. Derek was more wolf than man at that moment and Stiles had never felt more attracted to anyone in his life. He looped his arms around Derek's neck and nibbled on his lip earning a low growl.

Stiles tasted like toothpaste and sleep and cinnamon and Derek wanted it badly, he lapped into Stiles' mouth like he was trying to taste every inch. Stiles just opened his mouth and let him, moaning when Derek's fingers twisted in his hair and tugged ever so gently. The spark squeaked when Derek looped his fingers into Stiles’ waistband and pulled him onto his lap with ease. He fell onto the older man’s lap and excitedly rolled his hips, earning the most heavenly moan from the wolf’s throat.

It was like every wet dream Stiles had ever had about the older man, down to the very place they were. Where Derek had pushed him against the wall and Stiles felt that first swell in his gut that made him think he maybe wanted to lick Derek’s fangs and abs and the rest of him; In Stiles’ old bedroom. In his old house. Where his father was sleeping down the hall. f*ck.

Stiles pulled away, despite everything in his body telling him to keep going. “Der, my dad, he’s gonna hear us,” he said, breathless. “Normally there’s nothing more I’d want but-”

Derek nodded and licked the spit off his lip. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it, you’re so pretty.” And he was, the younger man’s hair was grown out and framed his face perfectly, he had little sleep marks from the pillow on his pale skin and he was broke out in baby pink blush and smelled so good Derek had to stop himself from wiggling his nose in his neck and just inhaling.

Stiles smiled goofily at him. “Yeah?”

Stiles was still on his lap, on the floor with his knees on either side of Derek. The wolf raised his finger to trace the outline of Stiles’ lips, red and swollen from their kiss. “Yeah.”

They calmed down, in silence both catching their breath and trying not to look at each other for too long, in fear they wouldn’t be able to stop. Stiles begrudgingly stood up and placed himself back on the bed. It was too hard to focus when he was that close to Derek.

“So um are we together now?” Stiles asked, squinting like that could hide him from the man in front of him.

Derek just smiled, “I don’t want to rush, not because I’m not sure about you or us, because I am it’s just…” he trailed off.

“We’ve waited so long, I want it to be right,” Stiles interjected. “I don’t want everyone to know, I want this to be just ours. Until we decide otherwise, it might be hard with all the pups, though.”

Derek took a sigh of relief, “I feel exactly the same. I want you to be mine, that’s not up for debate. It’s just that we’ve lost so much time… there’s so much to make up for.” His hand extended and he rubbed Stiles’ knee gently. Despite the casual touch, it still made electricity buzz in Stiles body. That and him saying he wanted Stiles ‘to be his’, so casually as if that wouldn’t make Stiles’ knees weak and his mind numb.

“What do you have in mind?” The spark asked.

Derek smiled, “Tonight checked one thing off my list.”

Stiles blushed, and looked over at his door, “Me too, except I would like you to pin me to the door again," he suggested honestly.

The alpha’s eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. He just nodded.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll meet you at the overlook,” Stiles said. “I have something else I wanna check off my list,” Stiles smiled and he couldn’t believe the blush that spread across Derek’s cheeks.

“O-okay, yeah,” the alpha stuttered. “Yes to all of that.” Derek thought for a minute, scrolling through the rolodex of moments he wanted to be with Stiles in his mind endlessly. “I’d like to take you out for dinner, a proper date. I know we have Peter to deal with, so that might not be soon.”

“I’d love to.” Stiles smiled and interlaced their fingers. Fireworks went off in his chest because he could do that. He could reach out and hold Derek’s hand and that was just insane. “See you bright and early to deal with your feral uncle,” Stiles leaned over and kissed the wolf’s cheek.

“See you tomorrow, Stiles.” Derek’s hand slipped out of the spark’s and he headed back towards the window. "Also, make sure you take a shower so the pack can't smell me on you."

"Yes, alpha," Stiles taunted with a coy tone and he was delighted as Derek's eyes flashed red at the honorific and a desperate gasp left his lips.

"Please don't do that unless we're alone," he begged. Stiles could tell he really meant it.

"Of course not. Goodnight, Der," he promised.

"Goodnight." Derek hopped out of the window and off into the night.

Stiles fell back asleep and was met with just easy sleep, no nightmares. He felt safe and warm, and all he thought of as he drifted off was Derek's moans against his lips.

Chapter 33: Perfume

Chapter Text

Even though Derek ran fast and hard through the woods, hoping it would pump out the violent desires building in his body, he was still shaking by the time he fell into his bed. He couldn’t sleep. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Stiles’ cheeks burnt with blush, his lips red and swollen and glistening with spit, his big doe eyes wide and looking up at him. Derek caught himself licking his lips and praying to get one more taste of minty sweet spit on his mate’s lips.

Derek would be lying if he said he wasn’t having some odd symptoms since he’d been accepted by his mate. Even if Stiles didn’t know they were mates yet, he wanted to be with Derek and that was enough. It was enough for his wolf as well, so it seemed. Since that first kiss, when Derek felt his wolf finally settle happily under his skin, his desire to claim Stiles had gotten…stronger. He had a hard time keeping his fangs retracted, every time they kissed Derek’s wolf seemed to fixate on the crook of the younger man’s neck. The sound of his pulsing heart under his artery called to him like thumping drums and moon-blessed chants.

When Derek finally did fall asleep, his dreams weren’t any less torturous. In his mind he saw himself sliding his fingers across Stiles’ pouty lips and sinking them into the wet heat of his mouth. Pushing them against the meat of his cheek and watching it stick out the other side. Stiles would kiss him, sloppy and a mess of moans. Derek pressed him against the door and slid his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, slitting his leg between Stiles’ thighs and rubbing against him.

When he woke up, his dreams plagued him. Derek shot out of bed with a groan and ran to the shower and turned it as cold as it could go. He was reminded quickly of Stiles sharing this exact scenario days prior and he fought the thought of the water rushing down Stiles’ lithe body or the foaming soap painting his milky skin-f*ck.

Derek was so screwed.

-

Stiles woke up to his phone buzzing with notifications. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the screen through the sleepy daze.

Scott: I’m sorry for being harsh. I just can’t believe you’re in a pack that’s not mine. Maybe I was too possessive. I know you care about Derek and I hope you two figure stuff out soon. We are going to the vault to check on Peter around 11, I’ll see you there?

Stiles sighed and felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew how Scott felt, the guy spent his whole life since he was a teenager as an alpha. So many packmates came and went and passed. Even though Stiles was gone, Scott still thought of him as a pack member all these years. Even with Stiles across the country.

To: Scott- Hey man, it’s alright I get it. I’m sorry for snapping too.

Stiles sighed and scrolled to the next text message.

Derek: It was good to see you last night.

Stiles blushed at the message, a goofy smile on his face as he texted Derek back.

To: Derek- Me too, Can’t wait to see you later. -S.S

Stiles hopped out of bed with a surge of energy from Derek’s message. He shuffled out of his pajama pants and into new boxers and took a shower, making sure to scrub as hard as he could to get rid of any lingering Derek smell that clung to his skin. After that, a shave, and heavy deodorant and a bit of cinnamon whisky cologne that was his dad’s, he headed back to his bedroom. He paused, wondering if this was going to be the same outfit he’d see Derek in later tonight or if he was going to get a chance to change. Better to err on the side of caution, he thought. So instead of his most comfy, well-loved, plaid boxers he shuffled around through his drawers until he found a pair of tight black briefs and slid them on. Over top, he threw on some black jeans, a little skinnier than what he’d usually wear, and a white t-shirt with his old red hoodie on top. He looked at himself in the mirror, a pang of insecurity flooding him. He was having a hard time accepting all of this. That Derek liked him. Stiles had pretty much been betting on the fact that he wouldn’t. He spent over a decade thinking he had no shot, and maybe that was partially because he never imagined Derek would like him. He wasn’t even sure Derek liked guys.

Now they were together and Stiles was just praying he wouldn’t f*ck it up. He fought his worries and ran downstairs and to his car to meet Scott at the vault. These days really had been so much like highschool it was odd. Maybe it was just this sense of home, though. At first, it scared him but the longer it went on, the more he was happy with the familiarity of these walls, the roads that led him to places soaked in memories; good and bad.

He pulled into the highschool parking lot and ran down into the vault, finding Scott, Deaton, Chris, Derek, Isaac, and Cora all standing by the big cement door. Stiles felt his heart stop when Derek’s eyes locked with his and he twisted his lips into a smile and waved. f*ck. He quickly wrapped Cora and Isaac in little hugs as greetings, hoping it wasn’t obvious how happy he was to see Derek.

Scott pulled him into a big hug as well, squishing him a bit.

“Hey buddy, happy that we’re okay,” Stiles laughed and hugged his friend back.

“Me too.”

“While I’m sure we’re all happy to see Stiles,” Chris teased, “I think we should focus on the feral werewolf with a history of murder, and try to get him back to normal before school starts Monday.”

A still wave of anxiety spread over the group and they all shuffled awkwardly in agreement.

“Do we have any idea what Peter’s anchor was before this happened?” Deaton asked.

Stiles, along with Isaac and Cora shook their heads.

“I thought it was his wolf,” Derek cut in. “Peter was always so happy to be a werewolf. Not all wolves, born or bitten, feel that way. Ever since he was little, he had so much control over his shift. He mastered his beta form before he was even in middle school.” Derek sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “After everything that happened, I figured it changed but I never asked what it was.”

-

In Derek's memories, Peter was always out-running him, beating him in spars, showing off his precise cuts with his claws against the punching bags in the basem*nt of the old house.

Peter leaned against Derek's open door, spinning Derek's basketball on the tip of his claw. His face was unshaven but hairless, his dark hair falling in waves on his face. Young and unburned, still with the same stupid smirk permanently twisted on the edges of his lips. "You're really gonna try out for basketball? You're more of a baseball guy in my opinion," he said.

Derek rolled his eyes and closed his novel. "You're just saying that because you were the MVP like constantly. Worried I'm gonna steal your legacy or something?" He teased.

"Not even close. Just didn't want you to get your hopes up. Especially since your fangs haven't even come in yet," Peter chuckled.

"Everyone else in the family says theirs didn't come in until they were sixteen, you're the odd one out," Derek barked, feeling defensive. "I already have my claws and my eyes," he flashed his gold orbs at his uncle.

Peter just laughed. "So quick to anger, Derek. I'm just joking. I think basketball would be good for you, maybe it would give you something to do besides read your greek tragedies over and over," the older wolf gestured to Derek's small bookshelf that was nearly overflowing.

Derek sighed, sitting up in his bed. "What did you have at this age that I don't have?"

"I've had my anchor my whole life. And it wasn't based around the pack, unlike you and everyone else in this house," he scoffed. "It's my wolf. He's always right under my skin. I remember feeling the pull of the moon when I was little, it was literally one of the first things I remember."

Derek frowned, closing his eyes and reaching inside him for any bit of fur or cold moonlight he could find. Only to come up empty. All he saw was his mom's soft smile and red eyes, heard his dad's deep laugh, Elijah's gummy smile, Cora's little hands clinging to his legs, Laura telling him to get out of her room that smelled like Victoria's Secret perfume and hairspray. He thumped his head on the wall behind him and groaned. "I just feel more like a human, I guess."

Peter walked in and set the ball down on Derek's desk before sitting next to his nephew on his bed. "You're not human, Derek. You're a wolf. We all are. You just wish you weren't."

-

Deaton hummed, clearly mulling over what Derek had said.

“If he had so much control, why was he so insane as an alpha?” Stiles inquired.

“Driven by revenge, desire for power,” Chris cut in, a clear amount of venom in his voice, “But when he came back, he seemed more relaxed and balanced.”

Stiles looked at Derek, then at Cora, “Is there any chance it’s you guys?” He gestured to the siblings. “Family,” he clarified. He knew it was unlikely, Peter never seemed to care about either of them too much but he surely wanted to save Cora when she was dying. Stiles still remembered the concern in his eyes when he wiped the black ichor off her lips all those years ago.

“Peter doesn’t seem the type to pick people as an anchor,” Scott said, a skeptical look on his face.

“It’s possible,” Derek answered, “But I think I agree with Scott.” He folded his arms and looked to Stiles before darting his eyes away quickly.

“I have an idea,” Deaton replied, his dark brown eyes shifting to look right at Stiles who felt himself cowering at the gaze. He knew what the druid was going to say before he even said it. He looked down at his shoes, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes following Deaton’s towards him.

“Peter seemed to really care about you,” Scott said. “The night you brought Derek back I thought he could have ripped my throat open for suggesting you weren’t uh well…” the awkwardness of their fight lingering in the alpha’s tone.

“My thoughts exactly,” Deaton agreed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his vest. “When you two visited me, I noticed a shift in him. But I’m not too sure it’s Stiles per say. But maybe it was some perceived future he believed Stiles could afford him.”

The spark finally looked up, and saw Derek’s eyes set on him with worry. “He liked my spark,” Stiles admitted, feeling an uncomfortable blush spreading across his chest and neck. “He was really interested in what I would be able to do. He thought… together we would be…”

“Unstoppable,” Cora said, a cool chill down her spine.

Stiles nodded. The whole group sighed.

“We can’t give him Stiles, though,” Isaac demanded. “There’s no way.”

“Well,” Chris took a breath, “We could just let him see Stiles.”

“He saw me yesterday!” Stiles shrieked, “And he slobbered all over me and tried to kill Derek!” If he was being honest, he wasn't scared of Peter. He just didn't want to see him like that again. Knowing it was his fault.

“Did he ever actually hurt you?” Deaton pressed.

“He wouldn’t let me get up, he kept snapping his teeth at me every time I moved,” Stiles explained.

“But he never actually bit you or cut you…” Deaton looked away, like he was piecing together a puzzle. Stiles already knew what conclusion he was drawing. “Have you done anything recently to make him feel rejected?” Deaton asked, leaning his weight against the door a bit.

Stiles paused, looking right at Deaton with focus to make sure he didn’t look back towards his alpha. “Um… yeah. He had feelings for me, I think, and I didn’t reciprocate.”

Isaac groaned, “Dude, ew, Peter? This is why anchors shouldn’t be people,” he complained. “Unless you’re mates,” he quickly followed up after Cora glared at him.

Stiles laughed a bit, trying to cover how uncomfortable he felt.

“Well,” Deaton sighed and looked towards Scott and Chris, “I think Stiles is our best bet to help Peter out of this. But I also don’t think we should just toss him in the vault and hope that he can get through Peter. We have no clue how long he’s been like this.”

“About a week or two,” Derek answered without thinking. “That’s the last time I saw him,” he continued. “I’ll go in with Stiles to make sure he’s alright but he’s more than capable of protecting himself these days.”

“Damn straight!” Isaac hooted in pride that made Stiles feel all warm and fuzzy. “I still can’t believe you shot ice at him!”

“Ice?” Deaton questioned, his head whipping around to look at Stiles. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. I guess I can do water and ice,” Stiles answered. And fire, and lightning. And I’m regrowing the Nematon, all things he did not say. He still didn’t trust Deaton completely. Him hiding his knowledge of Stiles’ powers for all these years just didn’t sit right with him,

Deaton’s eyes were wide. “Derek, I don’t know if you should go in with Stiles.”

“Why not?” The alpha’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“You’re his alpha. I wonder if Stiles accepting your pack was Peter’s trigger. Maybe he wanted that spot as Stiles’ alpha. You being there might set him off,” Deaton explained. There was this look in his eyes, like he was lying. And Stiles wondered if he was avoiding the obvious explanation on purpose.

“I’ll go in,” Isaac offered immediately, stepping towards his pack mate with confidence.

“Scott should,” Deaton disagreed. “Stiles isn’t in his pack so I think it would go over better. Peter may feel the same way about you as he does about Derek.”

Isaac looked rejected but Stiles thanked him regardless. Then he looked to his friend, “You sure Scotty?”

“Of course,” he declared and walked over to Stiles’ side and the two of them neared the door.

“Worth a shot,” Chris announced before pulling his glock out of his waistband and handing it to Stiles. “Wolfsbane bullets,” he explained, “Just in case.”

He nodded, checking the mag to see it was completely full before sliding the safety off and holding it by his side. “Thanks.” Regardless of his anger towards Peter, he hoped more than anything he didn’t have to shoot Peter. The thought sent dread through his blood.

Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder, and given the heat of the flesh he knew who it was already. He looked towards his alpha. “I’ll be okay, promise.”

Derek looked unconvinced but nodded. “Five minutes, tops,” he looked towards Deaton and Chris. “Then we’re opening the door.”

Everyone agreed and helped open the door. Stiles and Scott ran through it quickly. It closed behind them with a loud thump. The vault was empty, dark and cold. And eerily quiet. All Stiles could see was Scott’s glowing red eyes and the soft shadows of the shelves.

“Peter?” Stiles called out, trying to keep his voice quiet. He had the gun at his side, but didn’t aim it forward.

Nothing. Just the creaking of the building above them.

“Dude, I can’t believe Peter has feelings for you, that’s so weird,” Scott said with a grossed out look on his face.

“Not now, Scott, please.” Stiles rolled his eyes and kept calling for the wolf. “Peter? Please be alive,” he said, walking deeper into the vault. His steps were shaky and his heartbeat was fast. “Scott, do you hear his heart?”

“It’s faint, but yes. He might be asleep?” Scott said, keeping his eye on Stiles’ back.

Stiles turned down one of the rows of shelves. Then he heard it. A quiet growl, glowing blue eyes tucked into the furthest, darkest corner.

“Peter? It’s me, please don’t freak out,” Stiles begged, sliding the gun into his waistband before holding his arms in front of him as he sank down to crouch so they’d be eye level. Despite all of his instincts telling him to run back to the door, he fought his fear and reached his hand out to let the wolf sniff it.

Thankfully, Peter neared and his growling had ceased. He smelled Stiles’ fingers and began panting. He then licked Stiles hand and the spark tried to hide the cringe on his face. “Hey, I’m here.” Peter’s eyes began to glow blue again and Stiles noticed his pupils were settling to their normal size.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, coming down the aisle.

Then, Peter’s growl began again and he sank back into the corner.

“Scott, go back to the door, I got this,” Stiles barked.

The alpha thankfully obeyed his friend and left.

“Peter? Please, I just wanna help,” Stiles let his guard down and settled on the floor. It was cold and he felt a moment of guilt thinking about Peter having to sleep on the hard cement the night before.

The wolf slowly neared Stiles again. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds but it felt like minutes. Then, Peter was only a few inches from Stiles’ face.

He knew Scott would hear him, but he had to say this. “Peter, I’m still mad at you for what you did. For lying. But I don’t want you dead. And I don’t want you stuck like this…I’m sorry for pointing that gun at you and for uh freezing you… I know you like me and I should’ve been more understanding I guess…” Stiles wasn’t sure what else he could say. “I care about you. I wanted us to be friends. I appreciate your care and your… your love.”

Peter’s head tilted to the side, almost in surprise. He licked Stiles’ hand again.

“Um,” Stiles searched his head for answers. What else could he do? He sighed. and raised his hand to pet behind Peter’s ear. Gently scratching the greasy fur. Peter seemed to purr a bit. “Peter, I miss you,” he said and he was surprised by his own honesty. When Peter looked back at him, the glowing blue faded and he saw Peter’s body begin to shake and crack. Hope spread through Stiles’ chest. He was changing!

Then it stopped.

Peter was half wolf. Haunched on his back legs, with a snout half covered in fur and half in skin, his eyes and the top of his head human save for the big ears. It looked painful. Peter stumbled forward and Stiles caught him. “Dude, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

Peter tried to speak but all that came out was a broken yelp. He leaned into Stiles' weight and whined in pain. He helped Peter to his feet and they walked towards the door together. As the light streamed in, Stiles could see Peter’s condition better. His back was hunched and you could see the spine bent in an unnatural shape, the skin around it bleeding from the arrow wounds. His right leg looked like it had been put on backwards. Like the way a dog's leg had an extra joint but on a human leg, the other one was furry and had a big paw. His chest was split down the middle, a jagged scar between the hair and skin. It was hard to look at. So he looked up at the deformed maw of Peter's face and just looked into his eyes. They were full of sorrow and longing. Stiles couldn't look at him for another minute or he feared he'd cry. Stiles just knocked on the door and ignored Scott’s horrified look.

Derek opened the door and his eyes went wide at the sight in front of him. Deaton stepped in and slid his arm around Peter, taking him from Stiles. “Let’s get you to my office. Does anyone have something to cover him?”

Derek shed his jacket and so did Chirs, and they covered the half-shifted wolf the best they could. Everyone followed the trio up the stairs in silence. Peter’s state was terrifying and everyones’ wide expressions seemed to agree. Stiles trailed behind the group, fighting tears that were stinging like vodka in the back of his throat. He watched Peter get shoved into the back of Deaton’s van and Chris hop in the passenger seat, followed by Scott staying in the back with Peter. Then, the pack was alone by Derek and Stiles’ cars. Silence hung in the air until the van turned out of the lot and towards the clinic.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Stiles asked, surprised by the crackling worry in his voice.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Cora shook her head in awe.

"It was so gross," Isaac grimaced. Derek lightly punched the side of his arm in warning.

“He’ll be okay,” Derek promised. “He’s halfway there.”

Stiles watched the van turn the corner and took a shaky breath. "I hope so."

Chapter 34: Sons and Daughters

Chapter Text

Stiles hiked to the spot, and it was becoming so easy to get through these woods he wondered if he could do it without even opening his eyes. He could feel the roots underneath his feet, and dodged them with expertise. He ducked beneath branches and hopped over holes without second thought. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he walked to the clearing where the Nematon was. He saw a tree, roughly three feet tall growing out of the gray stump. It was thin like a sapling still, but it was tall and green and had even started nubs that looked like the beginning of new branches. He couldn't believe how fast it had been growing.

“Woah, look at you!” Stiles said with excitement. He ran up to the stump and ran his fingers across the soft green flesh of the new growth. As his hand touched it, he saw glittering gold float from the tips of his fingers. As the sparkles settled onto the skin, he heard a snap as the branches erupted and spread, the top of it growing a few feet taller.

Stiles smiled and he could feel the warmth behind his eyelids glowing in tune with the bark of the tree. He heard the birds up in the canopy begin to sing and he could feel the wind pick up around them. Stiles laughed. “I brought you something,” he said as he pulled a jug of water out of his backpack. He kneeled down and opened it, watering the base of the tree. “It hasn’t rained in a while so I thought this would help.” He stayed until the jug was empty and looked at the plant with pride.

“Stiles?” A voice called and it sent Stiles flailing onto his face and hitting the edge of the stump with his forehead. He yelped as he swung around and felt the blood run down his skin.

“Who’s that?” He yelled out, wiping the scarlet liquid from where it ran down onto his eyes.

“It’s Dad,” the voice became familiar as it neared.

“Oh, f*ck, hey dad,” Stiles brought his sleeve to wipe the remaining blood off of him. As he opened his eyes he saw the sheriff looking at him with wide eyes and his hands on his hips.

“I’m getting deja vu,” he sighed, “Why are you in the woods watering the stump we got stuck under when I almost was ritually sacrificed?”

Stiles bared his teeth awkwardly, “Um, it started growing again. I think that if it’s actually healthy and happy that it might fix the weird curse stain on Beacon Hills. Ya know, since it’s the beacon in the first place.”

John rolled his eyes, “I hate that that made sense. But okay.”

Stiles smiled. Flopping to sit down with his back leaning against what was left of the stump.

“Where did you run off to today? You didn’t even say bye.” The sheriff asked, relaxing his arms a bit.

“Um well Peter went feral… we’re trying to figure out how to get him back.”

John sighed, “O..kay. How's your head?"

"It's okay, tis but a flesh wound!" the spark quoted in a joking tone.

His dad shook his head but was clearly amused by his kid. "Scott stopped by, he mentioned that you’re in Derek’s pack now. Which means you're staying here. When were you gonna tell me?”

Stiles' heart stopped and his voice stuffed in throat. “Oh!” he croaked out. “I just-I just it was kind of a thing that happened. I know you’re probably let down that I’m not gonna be in the FBI anymore. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do job wise.” He turned around to look at the sapling. “I just have this new… power, this new responsibility to this land to this forest and to Derek-to the pack, I mean. It just feels right. My work hasn’t felt right because it meant leaving everyone behind…”

John looked at him empathetically and groaned as he sat down. “Dad noises are gettin’ worse I guess,” he laughed dryly. “I’m not mad or disappointed. I’m proud of you. I don’t understand this spark stuff but you seem more alive than I’ve seen you since before all this werewolf stuff. It’s nice. Also, I like Derek.”

Stiles blushed, “You’ve mentioned this. Please no Derek talk.”

“Okay, okay. I hope it’s not too much but," John looked nervous, something rare on his dad's face. "Could you show me something? We’ve talked about your spark but I’d like to see if you don’t mind.”

Stiles smiled brightly at him and nodded. “Okay, but don’t freak out.” His dad laughed and agreed so Stiles stood up and walked in front of him. He closed his eyes and reached for his spark, thinking of the new sapling, of the roots beneath him, of the flickering of sunlight underwater and the way Derek's eyes burned so beautifully red. He heard his dad gasp and when Stiles opened his eyes he saw the sapling began to thicken and grow, also that Stiles’ veins and eyes were glowing again.

He quickly closed his eyes again, trying to snuff out the spark. When he opened them again he saw the glow fade and the tree settle.

“Wow,” John said. “That’s incredible, Stiles,” he sat up and grabbed his son’s arm and pulled him into a hug. "It's also weirdly beautiful."

“Thanks, dad,” he smiled.

They sat there for a few minutes, chatting about what this would mean. If Stiles would stay in his room, he said he'd like to get his own place but given the job situation he didn't know when exactly that would be. His dad promised him the house was open and Stiles smiled. It was nice to let his dad see this side of him, this new power. It made it less scary, to some extent; knowing his dad thought it was beautiful.

“Let’s go get some dinner? I’m off my shift.” John offered.

“Sounds good." Stiles grabbed his bag off the ground and slung it on his shoulder. "Oh, I meant to ask you earlier, why were you out here anyway?”

The sheriff shook his head and a sad look spread across his face, “One of the high school kids went missing. He was a bit of a delinquent so everyone assumes he just ran off.”

“You don’t think so?” Stiles questioned.

“I have some experience with a delinquent teen going missing,” he teased a bit.

Stiles felt a little guilt over all those years of stress his dad had to cope with but he agreed. He followed John back to the cruiser.

They went to dinner, the old diner on the corner they used to go to all the time after Stiles’ soccer games when he was a kid. They didn’t talk about magic or werewolves or anything of the sort. Just how Stiles used to ramble so much he annoyed the waitress that used to work there. And how the owner still remembered John took his burger medium rare with extra onions. Stiles didn’t even give him sh*t about ordering extra fries. He looked at his dad’s deepening wrinkles and graying hair and felt bad he wasn’t there enough for those changes to become noticeable. It was nice, and Stiles really was believing he was home for good.

-

After Cora’s first ultrasound, Derek dropped the couple back at the house and gave Cora a few of the presents he and Eli had bought her. He told her to use the master bedroom bathtub and try out the herbal bath bombs he got her. She laughed and called him out for getting soft with old age. He didn’t mind the tease. He was happy to be soft if it meant having a pack. A pack with Hales, with Stiles, with Cora’s mate and one of his original betas.

Derek left the couple with Eli at the house and drove to the clinic, trying not to let his mind wander to his rendezvous with Stiles later tonight. He hoped his presence wouldn’t send his uncle back to his full wolf form, but he had to see him.

He pulled into the clinic parking lot and slid out of his car. He was immediately met with Deaton who stood in his open door like he was blocking it. “Derek, you should go.”

Derek continued walking towards the door. “I know you think I’ll trigger him to turn back, but I want to help. I’m part of the reason he’s like this in the first place.” Despite his anger towards his uncle, Derek was still reeling from seeing his uncle in that state. Malformed and skinny with bones in the wrong place. It was hard to look at, his eyes looked so empty and sad. No matter how angry Derek was, he still wanted to help.

The druid shook his head. “Peter is stuck between himself and his wolf. They’re blended together with no clear boundary in sight. It seems we were right that some of his humanity became dependent on Stiles. You and I both know Peter’s issue is not just you being Stiles’ alpha.” Deaton’s voice made the words sound like a warning.

Derek rolled his eyes. “How do you plan on bringing him back?”

“I don’t know. But as for now, I’m sewing up his wounds and trying to keep him comfortable.”

“Comfortable? What? Until he dies?!” Derek growled. He thought of Stiles' watery eyes that morning, how scared he looked when he came out of the vault with Peter. Despite any jealousy, Derek couldn't let Peter die. If not for his own sake, than at least for the sake of his mate. Stiles would forever feel guilty if he knew his rejection killed Peter.

Deaton’s face was unreadable as ever. “I won’t let him die. But also, it seems that Peter will need to find a new anchor on his own.”

“How exactly do you expect him to do that alone on an operating table surrounded by people who don’t care if he lives or dies?” Derek pressed, taking a few steps forward.

The vet groaned, “You should bring things from his apartment if you want to help. See if you can find anything that you think might earn some semblance of care out of him. And make sure it has nothing to do with that spark of yours.”

Derek didn’t like Deaton’s tone, the way he said ‘spark’ seemed like an insult. Derek didn’t even realize what he was doing until Deaton was holding a knife to his neck. His vision was red and his fangs dropped over his lips. “What exactly is your problem with Stiles having some power?!” Derek roared. “You didn’t tell him when he was a teenager, why?” He pulled off of Deaton and took a step back.

Deaton lowered his weapon. “Sparks are just that. And what follows a spark, Derek?”

A fire.

-

Derek went home despite his urge to turn his car around and punch the vet in the face. It was so like him to assume Stiles couldn’t handle his powers. He was so lost in thought it seemed like he got to his house without any memory of driving there. He cleaned up and made a quick pasta dinner for the pack, Eli was busy trying to finish his summer reading and Cora was beginning to feel symptoms of her pregnancy so everyone turned in early. The alpha cleaned up quickly, and headed into his son’s room to tell Eli he wouldn’t be back until later.

“Why? Where are you going?” Eli asked. "Can I come?"

“I have to try to help your uncle, I’m gonna look for something to be his new anchor," Derek answered.

“Can you even do that? Have two anchors?” His son pressed, and Derek remembered he'd need to have this conversation with him again. Make sure he had a good one himself.

“It’s the best we have to go on. Please try to get to sleep before 12, you need to start resetting your sleep schedule for school, okay?”

Eli rolled his eyes, “Okay.”

Derek smiled and placed a kiss on his son’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning. If you go to bed early, I’ll make you your special waffles for breakfast.”
“Okay you won me over,” Eli laughed, tucking his wet hair behind his ear.

“Goodnight,” Derek turned the big light off as he left.

The wolf drove to the loft in a hurry. Stiles and him had never set a specific time to meet but he figured around moonrise was good. When Derek slid the loft doors open, his eyes went wide. It was trashed. The couch had been torn up and there was white stuffing and torn leather everywhere. Broken glass from the frames of every hung art piece littered the floor. Even the coffee table was broken apart, wood splintered and thrown around the room. He saw clear claw marks, one for every finger, shredded through the big canvas on the floor. Clearly made by Peter’s beta form. This is where he lost control.

As the alpha circled the room, he found it was void of anything meaningful. No photographs, no keepsakes or heirlooms or anything of the sort. Just art, random books, and the occasional cigar butt. It was so unlike Peter's old room at the house. It used to be covered wall to wall in band posters, photographs Peter had taken with his old film camera, drawings and paintings Peter had done. It was the only room downstairs, tucked away in the furthest corner of the house. It smelled like cigarette ash and incense. Derek remembered it so vividly he used to see it whenever he smelled patchouli in the air. Peter used to haul up in there for hours, playing guitar or drawing. He'd throw things at the Derek or his siblings heads if they even tried to come into his 'sanctuary'. Peter was angsty far past his teen years. But he'd always been expressive, now he was this cold, minimalist and it was so odd. Derek never really thought about it but it made sense. His sanctuary had been lost to the flames, every object and art piece he made gone. It only made sense he wouldn't hold onto objects like that anymore.

Derek let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he climbed the stairs. When he walked in, his eyes went wide as his nose caught a familiar scent of honeycrisp apples and pear trees. He saw a pair of Stiles’ pants on the bed, the jeans were chewed up at the ends and hard with old spit. Derek felt possessiveness rise in his chest but he fought it down. Stiles wasn't lying when he'd told Derek he and Peter had never been together. It was clear Peter stole these or Stiles had unknowingly left them here.

The wolf pushed the thought out of his head, avoiding anger. Instead, he looked around, praying to find anything he could use to help Peter. The bedroom was in better shape, despite a few clawed up pillows the rest seemed fine. He rooted around in Peter’s drawers, through his bookshelves, in his bathroom, and under his bed. That's where he found it. An old shoebox under the bed full of letters, but on top of the letters was a small, framed, picture of Malia from her trade school graduation, her smile was big and her eyes looked scared. But she seemed happy. There was an arm around her shoulder that looked to be Scott’s but he’d been cropped out of the photo. It was taken after she left Hale auto and decided to become a welder at a different shop a town over. Derek couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. Despite Malia's rejection of Peter, he'd cared for her ever since he learned she was his. Derek thought about Eli, and knew his care for him would never stop. No matter if he cut contact or killed someone or anything. His love for his son was unconditional and unchangeable. The perfect state for an anchor.

Derek tucked the picture into his jacket and turned to leave. He stopped, looking at Stiles’ jeans and grabbing them. They were too gross to give back but Derek couldn’t let Peter keep them.

He ran to his car and started the engine, heading back to the vet clinic.

Chapter 35: Fawn of the Woods

Chapter Text

Stiles had his dad drop him back at the preserve where his jeep was, seeing as they both took the police cruiser out to eat. They had walked around downtown for a bit and the sun began to set before Stiles even realized it. He hoped he wouldn’t be late to meet with Derek. After he told his dad he’d be back a bit later he watched until his dad’s headlights were out of sight. Then, he began walking through the woods. The hike to the overlook took around twenty minutes, especially with his leisurely stroll.

As Stiles walked, he heard an owl hooting followed by singing crickets and frog croaks from the creek. It was alive and beautiful and he felt his heart surge with appreciation as he navigated easily through the trees and shrubs. His heart was racing as he neared their meeting spot, his mind flooded with nerves. Even though he’d kissed Derek twice now, it was still so new he couldn’t help but be a bit terrified. This was really the first time they would be completely alone. No dad down the hall or pack within hearing range, nothing to rush them away from each other. Just them. Stiles hoped he didn’t stink of sweat from the steep incline to the lookout.

When he reached the overlook, he noticed the alpha’s absence. He was the first one to arrive. A pang of disappointment hit him but he sucked it up and walked over to the cliff’s edge. He flopped down onto the dirt and looked at the city lights in front of him. It was odd, all that man made machinery in the middle of such a magic forest, he felt a wash of sadness thinking of all the trees and animals that had been forced out for cookie cutter homes and coffee shops. Being a spark was turning him into a bit of a hippy, he supposed. The thought made him laugh and he thought fondly of his little sapling on the other side of the woods.

He didn’t even realize a vision was overtaking him until he turned his head to the side to look for Derek and instead saw his best friend. Scott looking like he did over a decade ago, if Stiles had to guess it was him the year he first turned into a wolf. Long, swoopy hair, a well loved zip up hoodie, and the same uneven smile. He was looking over the cliff and waiting. It was weird, to be sitting next to him with Scott unable to see him at all. It felt like Stiles was invading his privacy even though he knew it was just another memory engrained in these woods.

Time was beginning to lose meaning these days. Being able to see through the past was blurring all these lines that used to be so set in stone. Of course, if Stiles had learned nothing else over the past fifteen or so years- it was that nothing in this world was concrete. Men could be wolves, wolves could be friends, friends could be enemies, and monsters were real. Stiles loved the monsters in his life, and now it seemed he was becoming one. One of the things he'd poured over Internet forums about when he was a kid and pieced together on his white board. Stiles felt a pang of sadness, especially when Scott gave up and walked away, clearly feeling rejected. However, a smile soon replaced Stiles' frown, knowing Scott was really tucked into bed with the girl he'd always loved. Happily in their apartment downtown.

-

Derek dropped the picture off but Deaton still didn’t let him come in, just took it and closed the door in his face. He was a bit pissed off but still hopeful he may have found something to help his uncle. The sight of his house, torn to shreds, was still burnt into Derek's eyes and filling him with fear that Peter was already too far gone to help.

The alpha checked his phone and had no messages from Stiles, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Regardless, he drove a little too many miles over the speed limit to the preserve. He swerved into parking lot closest to their meeting spot and slammed his door before taking off into the woods.Derek ran up the cliff as fast as he could, praying he hadn’t missed Stiles.

When Derek reached the top of the incline, he noticed that Stiles was just staring over the overlook. The wolf smiled and just took a second to watch him. He had this zoned out look, the same one he had when Derek saw him at the graves behind his old house. It was hauntingly beautiful. The moonlight made his already pale skin look like it was glowing nearly alabaster, and his amber eyes seemed to reflect the light but still maintained a hint of their golden undertone. Stiles’ side profile was always so distracting to Derek. Back in the old days, Derek would just avoid looking at the younger man to stop himself from noticing how beautiful it was. Now, he didn’t have to. He could trace the slope of his pixie nose, notice how long his lashes were and how they curled perfectly around his bambi eyes, his lips pouting out beautifully. Derek couldn’t help but finally let himself stare.

-

Stiles was lost in thought when he felt hands on his shoulders. He jumped and yelped, “Jesus Derek!” His head whipped around to see Derek, shrouded in the forests' darkness.

The alpha laughed at him for a moment before coming to sit down next to him on the forest floor. “Sorry, had to,” he apologized, though Stiles knew it was insincere.

Stiles clutched his hand over his chest. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days," he joked but couldn't hide his excitement at seeing his alpha. He looked beautiful. The scattered light from the moon made his tan skin look like faded marble. He was in dark pants and a long sleeve that was rolled up at his elbows, showing off his thick forearms and veiny hands. Stiles couldn't help but stare.

“I’m sorry if you had to wait long. I had to stop by Deaton’s.” Derek couldn’t help but let out some of his annoyance in his tone.

“Ugh Deaton, right?” Stiles agreed, looking over at his boyfriend? His whatever they were. “It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting, I’m comfortable in these woods by myself.”

“You really have grown up,” Derek smiled, “Old Stiles would rather do anything than be left alone out here, you always smelled so scared.”

Stiles looked down a bit, “Yeah.”

Derek cursed himself a bit, he hadn’t meant to offend his mate he was just remembering fondly, “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“No, you’re right. I didn’t have anything to defend myself back then. Now I do. It feels good,” Stiles explained with a growing smile on his face, he was really coming into his own.

Stiles was shocked when Derek grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. His heart fell into his stomach and his eyes went wide.

“I’m glad you can protect yourself. I’m here too,” Derek promised. He looked down at their hands. Stiles’ dainty pale fingers twisted between Derek’s thick tan ones; a beautiful juxtaposition. “How are you feeling about all this Peter stuff?”

Stiles shuffled awkwardly, “Eh…it’s a lot. Is it weird to care about him living when we recently fought him and were super pissed at him?”

Derek shook his head, “I feel the same way. I’m mad at him but seeing him like that was… scary.” He squeezed his mates’ hand. “He’ll be okay. I think Malia might be able to help.”

“I didn’t even think about that, that’s a great idea,” Stiles said, and hope filled his chest again and he took a relieved breath.

Derek looked over the town and Stiles took a minute to appreciate him, and be thankful that he didn’t bail. In fact, Stiles could see a couple beads of sweat down his forehead, showing he’d ran all the way here. It made Stiles’ heart swell. “It’s good to see you.”

Derek ducked his head a bit, “You too. I was thinking about this all day.” Derek felt a bit embarrassed admitting it, but he could smell Stiles' excitement and nervousness in the air. It was comforting knowing he wasn't the only one who seemingly couldn't wait another minute until the two of them were alone.

"Me too."They looked at each other and the tension quickly became thick in the air. Stiles couldn’t help but dart down to look at Derek’s lips framed by his thick mustache and beard. He looked up only to see Derek smirking at him with a co*cky expression Stiles found way too attractive for his own good.

“Is there something you want?” Derek asked, leaning back on his arm a bit. Spreading out in a way that pulled his t-shirt up and exposed his happy trail and the skin around his hips.

“Nope,” Stiles responded, popping the ‘p’ dramatically and shaking his head.

Derek chuckled a bit. “Okay,” he looked away and Stiles followed the motion, looking back to the town lights beneath the cliff.

Stiles’ heart was racing, he wanted to kiss Derek but he was too stubborn to admit it. He needed Derek to break first. He settled onto his hips and stretched his arms above his head before licking his lips. When he looked over he was more than happy to see Derek gawking at him. “Want something?” He parroted.

Derek laughed and leaned forward, grabbing Stiles’ collar. “Knew you’d be a little tease, Stiles,” he growled, stopping not even an inch from Stiles’ face, gaining confidence when he remembered their late night rendezvous. “Since the second I pinned you against that door.”

Stiles found his jolt of conviction wither away when he felt Derek’s breath against his face. His mouth was just agape and he knew he probably looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn't help but turn to putty when he was blessed with this prideful, smug, dirty-mouthed version of Derek. Hidden just outside of Stiles' reach for so long, now staring him right in the eye and expecting Stiles not to melt.

Derek, thankfully, took pity on him. “Aww,” he reached out and rubbed the soft skin of Stiles’ cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Hey!” Before Stiles could get another word out, Derek was yanking their lips together desperately. It was wet and perfect and the night breeze seemed to pick up around them as they kissed.

Derek’s blood became aflame when he felt Stiles’ strawberry lips against his own. He was being desperate, but he couldn’t help it. Since last night, save for Peter, Stiles was the only thing on Derek’s mind. “You taste,” he licked Stiles’ lips, “so,” Derek moved his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, “good,” he growled when the minty sweetness of his mate’s taste hit his tongue. Derek would go mad soon enough. Stiles was everything he'd hoped and more. Snarky and handsy and loud and perfect. What he hadn't expected was the hint of submissiveness, the way he went lax when Derek manhandled him. A part of the wolf wondered if it was just Stiles or if it was the fact that Derek was his alpha now. He really hoped it was the former.

Stiles knew his co*ck was swelling up, he shuffled uncomfortably where he sat; it had been a long time since he’d done anything physical, and it had been his whole life that he was waiting for something like this. Something so primal and loving at the same time. Teeth and tongue followed by Derek growling desperate praises into his mouth. It was making Stiles' brain fuzzy and his skin heat up with blush. He became determined to make Derek feel the same. So, Stiles fought back his nerves and grabbed the hair on the base of Derek’s head and tugged them closer together. "I've waited my whole life for this," he said as he pulled on the wolf's dark hair, surprised by the grit in his own voice.

Derek moaned and Stiles was pleased when Derek let his hands go from where they were twisted in Stiles’ hoodie. Instead, he traced his fingers down the sides of Stiles’ body before grabbing Stiles’ waist to pull the boy closer. Derek nibbled on Stiles' bottom lip before grabbing hard on the younger man's hips. The spark jumped a bit when he felt claws through the fabric of his hoodie.

“Oh, f*ck, I’m sorry,” Derek pulled away, clearly embarrassed. “Did I hurt you?” Worry was thick in his tone.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles smiled, “No you didn’t, it was just a surprise.” He raised his hands up, hoping to stop Derek’s worry. “I’m good… more than good," he said through heavy breaths.

Derek looked down, “I um, this is embarrassing…” he scratched his head and bit his lip, “I have a hard time controlling myself around you," he admitted sheepishly. That wasn't the half of it. It wasn't that he lacked control, it was that his wolf had blended seamlessly into his body the very minute he kissed Stiles for the first time. It was something he'd have to work on but Derek didn't even know where to start. There was no him and wolf anymore; they were just two parts of the same whole.

That was too hot for Stiles to comprehend, before he knew it he was grabbing Derek’s clawed hand and bringing it to his lips. Derek tried to pull away a bit but Stiles tugged it back a bit and the alpha relented. "I've always liked your wolf," the spark confessed. Stiles couldn’t help himself, and just swirled his tongue around the claw and watched Derek’s jaw drop and his eyes flash red. The sight made Stiles' co*ck twitch under his tight pants.

“Jesus, Stiles, you’re gonna drive me insane.” Derek couldn’t help but be honest. The sight in front of him was heavenly, or the very opposite. Like Stiles was a demon sent to tempt Derek into deviant behavior. His tongue was pink and soft like a kitten as it swirled around the sharp blades of the alpha’s claws. He looked up at him with wide eyes and Derek could feel the pressure building in his jeans. Stiles pulled off with a wet pop that sent lewd images through Derek’s mind.

“Figured I’d give you a taste of your own medicine,” Stiles laughed, a bit raspy.

Derek gave up and looped his fingers, thankfully now void of claws, through Stiles’ belt loops and used it to press Stiles onto the cold forest floor. The spark was looking up at him like a fawn caught underneath a wolf. In many ways, he was. Visions of the two of them running through crispy marigold and scarlet leaves, Stiles' bare skin soaked in autumn sunlight followed by Derek on all fours nipping gently at Stiles' heels ran through Derek's mind. His wolf was so close to the surface but he could control it, he had to. He leaned down and connected their lips again.

In this position, Derek’s crotch was right above his and Stiles tried to arch away so he wouldn’t feel how hard Stiles was but ultimately it was fruitless. Derek ground against him and a thick rumble left his chest. He kissed Stiles hard and relished in the little moans that slipped into Derek’s mouth and rattled in his lungs.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Stiles said in between kisses. He felt his eyes burning and when he opened them, he looked up and saw Derek's were glowing red in response. Stiles made a mental note to look into why exactly his spark felt the need to show up in moments like this.

“Me too, you don’t even know,” Derek admitted. A moment of softness, the alpha ran his fingers across Stiles' cheekbone, right beneath his eyes. "My spark."

Stiles was taken aback by the comment but his lips spread into a big smile and he nodded. "My wolf," he countered. Derek smiled back at him and their lips met again. Stiles’ hips bucked up when Derek’s hands snaked under his hoodie and shirt, and slid across the soft skin of his stomach and the sides of his ribs. He was an average sized guy but Derek’s hands wrapping around him made him feel small, it was insanely hot. He wanted nothing more than for Derek to pick him up and f*ck him against one of these trees.

“As much as I want to continue,” Derek said, his voice weak and breathy, as he pulled away from the kiss. “I don’t want our first time to be before we go on a real date.”

Stiles, though a bit disappointed, agreed. “You’re right," he relented. "We said we’d go slow, it's just… hard.”

“Yeah it is,” Derek winked and Stiles shoved him playfully.

“Rude,” the spark laughed. He sat up and Derek mimicked him, so that they were both leaning their backs against a large rock for support. “I still can’t believe you’re making jokes… I’ve really missed a lot, huh?”

Derek sighed and nodded. “It’s Eli. He’s made me more goofy.”

“I like goofy,” Stiles laced their hands together again. “It looks good on you. Remind me to thank Eli some time.” It was true, Stiles was still adjusting to this new Derek. Sure, he loved the Derek he’d always known; the selfless, serious, tall, dark and handsome wolf who was quick to protect and quick to fight. It’s who he’d fallen in love with in the first place. From the big heart he clearly guarded heavily, and the glimpses of affection he’d let slip to Stiles through sarcasm and eye rolls, it wasn’t hard to crush on Derek and for him flood Stiles’ teenage daydreams. But this Derek, the one that grilled hotdogs and drank beer, that did flips and cannonballs into the water, that made snarky little jokes and wasn’t afraid to smile or to laugh; this was a man Stiles could easily spend the rest of his life with.

They spent the next hour just half cuddled and looking at the moon as it rose. Talking about everything and nothing. From Derek’s work at the Auto shop to Stiles’ craziest cases in the FBI, it felt like the first time they could really catch up with each other. One step in a long line of making up for lost time. It was nice, there was no need to censor. They were both happier than either had been in a very long time and when Stiles finally found the strength to pull himself from Derek’s side and head back home, his heart felt light.

When Stiles fell into bed, kiss-drunk and his cheeks hurting from smiles, there was still one burning question in his mind. One he hadn’t asked. It had been plaguing him since it happened.

Why the hell did the triskelion show up on his chest the first time Derek kissed him?

Chapter 36: Torn Apart

Chapter Text

Derek got home and couldn’t help but feel giddy. The smile on his face hadn’t faded since the second he saw Stiles. He felt younger and lighter than he had since… well- since never, really. He felt like a teenager as he snuck into his own house. Slowly opening the front door and sliding in, hoping not to wake up Eli or anyone else. He needed to shower, and he hoped that no one would hear him or think his nearly midnight shower to be odd.

He padded through the living room, trying to walk as softly as he could. As he slid into the bathroom and closed the door, he huffed out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in his chest. His heartbeat was fast with nerves and lingering arousal and excitement from seeing his mate. He showered and tried his best to scrub off the smell of Stiles’ pheromones from him, and as he did, he could feel his wolf whining. Derek understood and he felt it too. He wanted to keep the smell of their sweat combined on his skin, to be able to raise his hand to his nose and see the memory of Stiles, panting and blushing beneath him. The thought made his co*ck swell with blood and he quickly turned the warm water to cold to try to distract himself. He couldn’t keep the smell of his mate, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to cover and rub off the sweet smell of honeycrisp apples and pear blossoms with Eli’s gross old spice body wash that smelled like cheap men’s cologne. Normally Derek would’ve used his own but, as he preferred unscented softer soaps, he knew that wouldn’t do much to cover Stiles’ scent. Especially not in a house of wolves. The last thing he wanted was to wake up to wide eyes and probing questions about he and Stiles’ relationship.

Derek climbed out of the shower into the steamy room. He grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dried off. As he looked in the foggy mirror, he grabbed his toothbrush and paste. Again, feeling a pang of sadness to wash away the taste of Stiles’ lips from his tongue.

Regardless of this, he still felt light as he fell into bed. He fell asleep quickly, lulled by the sound of Stiles’ glittering laugh and the sight of his golden eyes.

Derek’s dreams were not as forgiving, however. As soon as the darkness of sleep overcame him, he saw the deformed maw of his uncle’s face. Blood seeped from the boundaries between the fur and patches of skin. Peter’s eyes were glowing blue and crazed as they looked up at Derek, full of rage. He was hunched over Stiles’ limp body, his paws on either side of the spark’s chest. Derek’s mind flooded with fear as he saw the pool of blood coming from a chewed up bite mark on the side of his mate’s neck.

Derek ran forward, seamlessly falling onto all fours and feeling his jaw extend into a mouth of fangs and crushing molars. He growled loudly and as he went to snap at Peter, the wolf fell back and withered into Peter, young and lanky as he’d once been. Derek paused, looking at the ghost of who he once considered his best friend. He smelled patchouli and cigarette ash and took a step away.

“Peter?” He asked, surprised to hear his voice, to look down and see he was no longer in his wolf form.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” Peter said, voice shaking and higher pitch than it was these days.

“Why Stiles? Why did it have to be him?” Derek cried, tears falling down his cheeks.

Peter looked over at Stiles and Derek couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at the corpse of his mate. “I don’t know…I love him,” Peter admitted, eyes wet and glistening.

“He’s my mate!” Derek roared.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Peter yelled back, so raspy and pained Derek wouldn’t have been surprised if he would soon lose his voice altogether. “I have to be with him, every second knowing that he was your mate, knowing the f*cking moon made you for each other! That I’d never even get a chance!” His voice was flooded with pain.

Derek’s claws were sunk deep in the flesh of Peter’s gut before he could realize what he was doing. Peter’s eyes were wide and he choked out a painful sound, gargled with blood in the back of his throat. Derek gasped and pulled his claws out, but found they were hooked in Peter’s skin and took off chunks of flesh as he tore it off. Guilt poured through him as he watched Peter fall down next to Stiles on the white ground, as he looked around Derek realized he was back there. Back to where he was before.

The empty, foggy white haze of nothingness. He remembered wandering endlessly, screaming his voice hoarse looking for anyone, for anything at all. Met with nothing. Until Stiles had pulled him out. But his mate was gone and Derek was stuck in nothingness.

Derek woke up covered in sweat, with the hot morning sun baking his skin, heaving for breath and feeling his pulse swell under his neck. He whipped his head around, trying to calm down. The familiar sight of his bedroom, of the pictures of his son on the top of his dresser, and the lingering smell of laundry detergent on his sheets calming him.

“Dad!” Eli yelled from the kitchen, “Can I still have special waffles?!”

-

Stiles woke up bright and early and had his nose dug into the books that Deaton and Peter gave him not long after the sun rose.

‘Sparks, unlike wolves or other shapeshifters, tend to be solitary. It’s more than rare for one to be born at the same time as another, unless a family shares the spark magic. Some wolf packs have been known to have sparks as emissaries, but that role is more often filled by a druid or witch.’

Stiles sighed and flipped a couple of pages ahead, disappointed by the idea that most sparks weren’t members of packs. Maybe it was just his magic responding to the pack ties, but then why didn’t it happen when Stiles accepted the pack? It happened when he kissed Derek.

‘Sparks, when also werewolves, tend to have stronger abilities than average wolves. Their natural magic blends with the power of wolves in a unique manner. Often, this lends to them being able to fully transform into a full canine form. However, this has been documented to lead to difficulties in pack hierarchy. Sparks tend not to respond to their alphas well, and are seen as a threat to the position of power that the alpha holds. However, if a spark becomes mated to a wolf, especially an alpha, often their magic will become more wolf-like, regardless of whether or not they are shapeshifters themselves.’

Stiles hummed, he didn’t find any issue accepting Derek as his alpha nor did he mind being in a pack. He’d been in one before, and he found it comforting to be a part of something like a family. He didn’t think Derek would be threatened by his spark stuff either. He’d learned from the last time he was an alpha to not become too invested in power like that. And, to be fair, this book was outdated. Stiles was curious about the inclusion of mates, but none of this answered his question.

Stiles heard a knock on his door. “Come in!” he called before returning to nibble on his fingertip, flipping through pages looking for anything about sigils or runes.

“Hey bud,” a familiar voice called out.

Stiles’ head whipped around, he was expecting to see his dad but was surprised to see Isaac in his doorway. “Isaac! Hi!” Stiles put a bookmark on the page and set the book aside.

“Sorry for coming by without warning,” Isaac closed the door behind him and walked into Stiles’ room slowly.

Just as the blonde sat down on Stiles’ bed, a rush of fear ran through Stiles. Panic set in as he realized he hadn’t showered yet. He came home from his date with Derek and immediately crashed into his bed. He was going to shower before going over to Deaton’s in an hour or so but he got so absorbed in reading he’d completely forgotten. “Oh it’s okay!” Stiles squeaked out, praying Isaac couldn’t smell any residual Derek on him. “Um, so what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just um. Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around the house lately and yesterday at the school you looked really torn up about Peter.”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah… the Peter thing is a lot.”

Isaac bit his lip, “What exactly was up with you two?”

“He helped me with bringing Derek back. We were practically attached at the hip. I was starting to really care about him.” Stiles’ mind was flooded with memories of drunken wandering down cobblestone streets, of the way his dry laugh shook the car as they drove for hours and hours, and how he looked at the spark the first time the wolf had seen Stiles use his powers. “He told me he loved me. I rejected him. He lied to me about a bunch of stuff. It was really messy.” He rubbed his forehead, groaning just thinking about it.

“Why’d you reject him? I mean he’s old and crazy but he is kind of a DILF…”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Nice way of saying that you still are invested in your crush on our alpha." Stiles said nothing so the beta kept talking. "Well, do you care about him?” Isaac pressed.

“Yeah, sadly I do.” Stiles huffed, and got up and opened his dresser. He tossed on a hoodie that he’d worked out in and hoped the smell of his own sweat was enough to cover any lingering Derek. “I’m mad at him, but I care about him. I can’t let him die or go feral. Especially when it’s pretty much my fault.”

Isaac nodded empathetically. “It sounds like it was his own fault to me.”

Stiles desperately wanted to change the subject. “By the way, how was the doctor’s appointment? Is our little baby Lahey doing well?” He walked over and sat back down on the couch.

Isaac lit up with a blinding smile and Stiles could feel the energy in the room warm up with it. “Yes! It went great! Well, Cora hates doctor’s touching her, but other than that everything looks good.” He ran his fingers through his curls. “She’s about six weeks along which means the baby is like the size of a sesame seed,” the wolf laughed.

Stiles found himself smiling back. “That’s amazing. I can’t wait, I’m so excited!”

“Me too! Also, it’s baby Hale. I think I’m gonna take Cora’s name instead.” Isaac blushed at the admission.

Stiles was about to ask why, but memories of Isaac’s dad quickly answered the question for him. “The more Hales the better, in my opinion.”

Isaac laughed and agreed, sitting down on the edge of Stiles’ bed. “What were you reading?”

“Oh, it’s stuff about spark magic. I’ve been having some insane Harry Potter-esque moments and am trying to figure it out,” Stiles chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m still not over you going full avatar on Peter.” Isaac leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. “So crazy.”

Stiles smiled and shook his head. “It says that elemental magic is common. Most sparks can do it but they usually have a specialty. Not sure what mine is yet.”

“Huh, weird. Well, I hope you figure it out soon.” Isaac looked around. “By the way, we were all gonna have dinner tonight. You should come. I’m sure Derek misses you,” Isaac teased a bit, raising his eyebrows and clearly looking to get a reaction out of his pack mate.

Stiles felt blush rise on his cheeks and he choked a bit. “Oh uh yeah sure," he responded with heavy sarcasm, "Derek misses me, definitely not you?” Isaac shook his head but Stiles didn’t press. “Should I bring anything?”

“Maybe some weed? After Eli goes to bed we could smoke and play mario kart? Cora’s been turning in like crazy early and I’ve never been one to go to bed before like one in the morning. It’s been pretty boring. Even Derek was out and about last night.”

Stiles paused, trying not to let it show that he knew exactly what Derek was up to last night. “Dude, that sounds like a great idea. I haven’t had time to chill in so long. I don’t know if I can get us some, though my old plug surely isn’t in business anymore.” Stiles hadn’t smoked weed since highschool, and back then he got it from Greenberg’s older brother who used to work down at the corner store. The FBI did very thorough and routine drug tests so Stiles hadn’t partook in anything weed related in a very long time.

“Dude, did you forget where we are?” Isaac asked.

“What do you mean?” Stiles’ eyebrows scrunched together.

“California has legal weed. Did you forget that?”

“Oh damn, I totally did. Been on the other coast far too long, I suppose” Stiles laughed. “Okay, maybe I’ll go to the dispensary. Are there any around here?”

“Only five different ones,” the beta joked. “I swear a new one pops up like every few months.”

“Okay sounds good. You sure Derek won’t mind?” Stiles knew Isaac lived with his alpha now but Stiles didn’t want to intrude.

“Derek totally smokes, dude.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, excitement clear in his voice. He couldn't picture it. Sure, he'd seen Derek drink a few special werewolf beers but the image of him having a blunt and stuffing his face with spicy chips was far more amusing.

“Yeah," Isaac laughed back, "I smelled it in his room one time.”

Oh, Stiles was going to bother Derek about that for sure. He couldn’t wait.

Isaac headed home not long after and Stiles got himself dressed and drove over to the clinic, excitement for dinner withering away to the dread in his chest. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel the entire time. Every red light and turn as he neared the clinic only made him more nervous. He was terrified to see Peter again. The dream he’d had a few nights ago still plagued him. He wanted to save the wolf but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it’d even be worth it. What if Peter hated him? What if he tried to hurt Derek? There were so many what if’s but Stiles had to focus. All that mattered was at least trying to set things right.

Stiles opened the door, trying to be hopeful, and was surprised to see Malia. She was sat, looking more pissed than usual, in the waiting room. She looked up when the bell rang and rolled her eyes when she saw Stiles walking in.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, smiling at her.

“Stiles.” She looked away from him and leaned to knock on the wall behind her. “Deaton, please hurry up.”

Stiles laughed a bit to himself and took a seat across from his ex girlfriend. “Sorry, I just thought I should come and try to help Peter.” He took a good look at her and felt a wave of nostalgia hit him. It was one of those moments where he could feel all the time that had passed. High school was so long ago, but oddly so close in his mind; especially when he looked at Malia. Her hair was shorter and it looked like it had been dyed darker, her thick eyebrows still set low on her face, and her skin had become covered in sunspots and freckles. She looked older. Still beautiful, but older. He wondered if she would’ve even lived this long if she’d stayed a coyote all those years ago.

“Well, then you should stay and I should go,” She said as she grabbed her bag off the floor. “I don’t really care what happens to him.”

Deaton, followed by Scott appeared from the back room and Malia sank impossibly further into her chair. She looked like she wanted to run back into the woods again. Scott gave her an awkward wave and it felt like you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. So much so even Stiles was feeling like he wanted to leave.

“No one’s leaving,” Deaton declared, tucking his hands into his doctor coat. “Peter needs all of you here. We have to try every angle we have.”

Malia sighed but got to her feet anyway. “We aren’t exactly close,” she explained. “I don’t think I’d be much help convincing him to not turn into a wolf and go run off. Every day I still contemplate it.” She looked to her feet and shuffled them around on the floor like she wished they’d turn to paws.

“I know, but we have to try, it’s the right thing to do,” Scott replied with his trademark puppy dog eyes and heartfelt earnesty that made it almost impossible to say no to him.

Stiles stood up as well. “I wanna try.”

Scott went first, at Deaton’s request. He promised to do everything he could before sliding back into the operating room.

Stiles listened by the door anxiously but he could’ve stayed in his seat because after a minute of silence, the alpha howled so loud all the animals in the back began to bark and hiss. He growled and flashed his eyes and yelled Peter’s name, he did everything he’d done to Malia to get her to change. Still, It didn’t work. The wolf walked out looking disappointed but not exactly surprised, shaking his head in defeat.

Stiles walked in next. His heartbeat was so fast he felt like he could pass out any minute. When he slipped his hand onto the door handle, he turned back to look at Scott who gave him an encouraging thumbs up but it did nothing to increase his confidence. He creaked the door open and walked inside, closing the door behind him. As he turned around to look, he couldn’t help the gasp that left his lips. He felt his knees go weak and he had to hold onto the wall for support.

Peter looked terrible. Stiles could see him more clearly now than he had in the vault. See the way his bones looked crowded and twisted, the way his spine jutted out from his back, how his one human eye looked like it was being pulled to the far side of his skull. He'd been sewn up, the stitches on his back, chest, and shoulders seemed to be healing slower than they should. It looked like Deaton had wiped up the blood off of him but he was still cowered over in pain. His bones were sticking out and it still looked like someone had ripped his leg off and put it in backwards. His neck tilted up and his eyes met Stiles’.

“Are you okay?” The younger man asked, worry thick in his tone. For a moment, he felt hopeful. Something in the way Peter looked at him made it seem like he knew it was Stiles, and that he wasn’t lost in his wolf. This gave Stiles the confidence to walk forward. “Hey Peter, I just wanna help get you back, man,” he whispered, trying to ease Peter into conversation. “We can do this, you and me.”

The wolf whined and raised his hand out like he wanted Stiles closer.

Stiles took another step forward with a smile. Then Peter raised his malformed snout in the air and sniffed. His neck snapped around and Stiles immediately froze.

The wolf’s pupils swelled, making his eyes look almost completely black save for the tiniest ring of glowing blue at the edges. He lunged, opening his jaw to try to bite and revealing a mouth with far too many teeth in it. Fangs smushed next to human teeth, crowding the space around his gums and on the top of his palate. He lunged forward but was stopped by the leather restraints Deaton had placed on his legs and stomach. He opened his mouth but no words came out, Only a broken, painful howl that was halfway between a human shout and a kicked dog.

Stiles never showered. f*ck. He walked in smelling like Derek and whatever lingering arousal might be stuck to his skin. He was an idiot. He’d gotten distracted by Isaac and planning f*cking dinner. He wasn’t just an idiot, he was a complete asshole. He had to find some way to get through Peter’s jealousy and just talk to him.

“Peter,” Stiles raised his arms up in defense, “I know I smell like him, I know and I’m sorry," the spark apologized, lowering himself to the ground. "But you have to understand, you need an anchor. It can’t be me. You need to find something, anything, because I can’t lose you,” Stiles begged. He felt tears falling down his cheeks.

Peter cried out and Stiles could see the borders of fur start to colonize the tan skin around it. His ear slid up and began to point and turn to fur.

“No, no, Peter, please!”

The door swung open and Malia ran in.

Chapter 37: Cold Blood

Chapter Text

Peter reached Stiles’ house late in the night. He was covered with sweat and fearful of what could happen if the younger man saw Peter outside his house. But he couldn’t resist. For days, all he'd thought about was the crackling sound of the younger man's laugh, the way his hands squeezed Peter's forearm the night he'd drank too much tequila, how he spat venom at his old alpha to defend Peter. The wolf needed him. Needed to have some part of him. He crawled up the wall and onto the roof. Taking a second to quiet his breathing as he reached the window, hoping to see his sleeping fawn. Despite his rejection, and despite him being adamant he never wanted to see Peter again, the wolf needed to check in on him.

It was an odd feeling, one Peter couldn’t recall himself ever having. Maybe once or twice for Cora or Derek, but they were family and thus it didn't have this frantic desperation he was currently experiencing. No, he’d had plenty of girlfriends and boyfriends and flings, but it was all just for fun. Something warm to sink his teeth into, something to squeak underneath his fingers and lean into his mouth. They were all nice enough but never did they light this desire in his chest. Not Stiles, though. Not his beautiful, witty, snarky, intelligent Stiles. The boy’s absence was like an anvil on his shoulders, slowly crushing him. Knowing he couldn’t have him was driving Peter mad. He’d done so much to try to make sure it was Peter who Stiles would turn to, not anyone else. And that had been the very thing that caused the spark to hate him.

Peter peeked into the room, lit only by a small lamp in the corner near the spark’s bed. It was nearly three in the morning and Stiles was nowhere to be found. He listened for his heartbeat, but only heard the steady thumping of a sleeping Sheriff. A sharp jolt of jealousy hit him. It was late and he didn’t need to guess where Stiles was. He already knew. The thought of him cuddled up in Derek’s sheets, his perfect pink lips parting in moans and laughs while Derek’s beard rubbed the soft pale skin of his neck and left marks; it made Peter’s skin boil.

Peter couldn’t control it. His vision went dark and he could feel his claws jutting out. He opened Stiles’ window with sharp nails and rooted around until he found what he was looking for. A well worn, unwashed pair of Stiles’ jeans. They smelled so much like him, Peter felt a rumbling growl in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he would lose control. So, he ran out the window as fast as he could and headed back to his loft, hoping to find some semblance of comfort in its familiarity.

Once inside, Peter went to his bedroom and sat down on the mattress. He tried to calm his breathing, inhaling the smell of his cleaned lavender sheets. It did nothing. The only thing that helped was to bring the denim to his nose and just smell. Inhale it, let the sweet fruity scent of Stiles’ skin and sweat fill his sinuses and cloud his mind with thoughts of scattered moles, honey eyes, and fluffy brown hair. He was chewing on it before he could even notice it, and he took a bite and tore it off, swallowing it in some desperate attempt to keep Stiles with him to consume him.

It was pathetic. It was pointless.

He tossed the jeans onto the bed and headed back down the stairs. He couldn’t get the thought of Derek and Stiles with matching mating bites out of his head. He imagined the sharp inhale and squeal that would escape Stiles' lips when Derek’s teeth sank in and scarred the skin Peter wanted so badly for himself.

In his rage, he swung his arm and sent a lamp flying across the room. It’s base and light bulb shattering. The sound of the glass breaking just triggered something in him. He let out a howl through his fangs, his vision went blurry and he just began to destroy it all. He started with the couch that Stiles’ slept on, shoved the cushions in his mouth and ripped them apart. In a frenzy, he wrecked it all. He didn’t care about how expensive anything was. Didn’t care about what memories it held. He just wanted to break it all. His mind became overcome with images of Derek’s torso shredded, his muscle and fat between Peter’s teeth. Long strands of sinew hanging from his jaw. His body dropping like a rock to the ground, finally out of Peter’s way. He’d smile at Stiles and take his place by his side.

Peter shook his head. What was he thinking?! He couldn’t hurt Derek. Peter thought of the younger Hale, bare faced with his beta golden eyes hanging on the edge of Peter’s door begging him to come on a run, or to sneak out so they could try to eavesdrop on his mom’s conversations. His nephew. Chubby fingers reaching up to him, Peter cradling his head in his hand and hearing his sister’s calm voice tell him to make sure to support his neck. His family, one of the few he had left.

The wolf sighed and looked around his loft, a mess of shredded fabric and stuffing. His claws extended and his fangs hanging low in his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip drawing blood. Derek was a ghost to him. Malia didn’t speak to him. Cora hated him. Any semblance of family was lost to him. Stiles was lost. Peter had to get out of here before he did damage he couldn't repair. He felt a single tear rush down his cheek, a cold feeling overcame his body in response.

The transformation had begun. His wolf would eat him to save him.

It was slow, then all at once. Peter fell to his knees and felt them snap, he howled in pain but no one could hear him. And even if they could, no one cared to help.

It felt like someone had broken every one of his joints and put them in the wrong way. Like his muscles all tore and his bones snapped all at once. His spine cracked and bent, his jaw snapped and pushed forward. He looked down and saw his fingers blooming reddish brown hair that spread up and up his arms until they turned to legs and his hands to thick paws. He felt his wolf swallow up whatever semblance of humanity he had left within him. Any lingering bit of heart turned black and cold in his chest. Next thing he knew, he was on all fours and couldn’t think. Every time he tried to form a coherent thought, it just looped back around. He looked at the books scattered on the floor and stared at the words but they looked like chicken scratch to him.

The bright lights of the apartment were blinding, and he had to leave. He had to get as far away from Stiles, from Derek, as he could. So he ran through the door and just kept running. All he remembered was tearing into small animals, the taste of hot blood in his mouth and dirt under his paws. The pull of the moon and the feeling of chasing deer until his legs gave out. This was his life. Until that day he smelled an all too familiar scent by the den he'd made under the old garden.

-

Stiles fell back against the wall, bringing his knees to his chest and watching in fear as Malia ran in, Scott following with his claws out. Stiles' rabbit heartbeat was rampant and he felt his breathing pick up. Panic was setting in. Guilt felt like lead in his stomach.

“Peter, it’s me,” The coyote said, holding her hands out in front of her. “Don’t do this.”

The changing wolf looked at her, and it seemed for a second the transformation paused when Peter’s eyes met his daughter’s. But his head turned and Stiles could see his tail stretching out from his tailbone. He let out a guttural howl and Stiles heard a loud snap.

“Peter,” she repeated, pushing her hair behind her ear and crouching down a bit. “I get it. I lost control too. I lost Stiles too.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide and he found himself hiding behind his hands. He shouldn’t be here for this but there was nowhere for him to get out. Scott and Deaton were blocking the door and if Stiles ran, he’d only draw Peter’s attention back to himself.

Malia sighed and walked closer, flashing her eyes blue and Peter’s flashed back at her. “He’s great, he’s the one who made being human seem not so terrible.” Scott put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. “But, I promise you it’s not the end of the world. As nice as the woods are, I’m glad that I stayed human and I know you’d regret it. You’re like a co*ckroach, you always survive. You’re strong and I know you’ll live through this.”

Peter whined and his tail started to retreat back into him, and his fur withered away. He still wasn’t completely human but it seemed like some of his bones began to go back to normal. His snout was still present, as were his claws and some remaining fur around his shoulders and stomach. But it was better than he’d looked before.

Malia let out a shaky breath and Stiles could see an awkward smile grace her lips. “You’ll come back even stronger! I know we’ve never really been close. I know I haven’t accepted you. But you are my dad and…” She shook her head, looking embarrassed, “I do kind of care about you." Scott nudged her. "We all care about you, no matter how much crazy sh*t you do,” another little laugh, nervous but honest.

Peter’s eyes went wide in surprise. And Stiles watched in awe as the rest of the fur sank into his skin and he saw the man he knew, naked and sitting on the cold metal operating table. His muscles looked less defined and his ribs were visible under his skin. His beard had grown out and his hair was long and more gray than it was before. But it was Peter, looking around the room like he had no clue how he'd gotten there. Unashamed of his nakedness and he turned to look at Stiles, a sad smile spreading across his face when their eyes locked together.

Stiles took a full, deep, breath for what felt like the first time in days. It filled his lungs and he let his shoulders drop. He smiled back.

Chapter 38: In the Woods Somewhere

Chapter Text

Peter left with Malia and Scott to go back to his loft. Stiles hadn’t moved an inch.

The wolf said almost nothing, and the quietness of his usually constantly running mouth was eerie. If Stiles didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Peter was embarrassed. His eyes were downcast, and avoided Stiles’ gaze purposefully. Stiles mimicked this, staring down onto the cold floor beneath him and just breathing. Relieved that the wolf was alive and human-well, human shaped, again. Still he felt all the rage and guilt and fear that had been consuming him every time Peter flashed through his mind. Too much had happened for them to be normal with each other and maybe it was wrong for him to think that it would ever be just normal between them again.

Peter had quickly gotten dressed in random sweatpants Deaton had laying around quickly. He was out the door with his daughter and former beta without a word.

“I think it’s best if you two take time apart,” Deaton said, his icy calm voice breaking the silence. He was shuffling stitching needles and gauze into one of the many drawers against the wall.

Stiles scoffed, “I think we can decide that for ourselves, Doc.” Despite agreeing with him, the young man was getting tired of taking orders from Deaton. It made sense when they were kids and had nowhere else to turn, but now it felt like he was trapped in the thick lines of the druid’s webs. Malignant or not, Stiles didn’t like feeling controlled. For good reason.

Deaton’s faux-sympathy fell from his face. He walked to the other side of the room and kneeled in front of Stiles. His dark eyes like endless pits. “I saw the sprout, Stiles.”

His words hit Stiles like a frigid wind and the spark was caught off guard; By both the hostility of the vet’s words as well as his closeness. “I-what do you mean?” he sputtered.

Deaton rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You are not nearly skilled enough to do what you’re trying to do.”

“What makes you think I’m trying to do something? All this sh*t just keeps happening, I’m not actively wishing for it. It sprouted and I’m just helping it grow.”

Alan shook his head, knees creaking as he stood up. “You haven’t learned anything about your magic yet, then,” his voice was now tired and annoyed. “That’s how sparks work,” a huge dose of condescension. “No spells needed, though they help. Your magic wills itself by what you want to happen.”

Stiles stood up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I mean, I just have to focus and reach for it but I never know why it’s doing the things it’s doing.”

Deaton took a few steps back, gesturing towards the door. “I think you should probably do some introspection then, Mr.Stilinski.”

Stiles nodded and left. Normally, he would’ve pried more but this was all a lot for him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that clinic as soon as he could. He wanted to run to the woods, to check on his sprouting sapling and stay all night armed with his glock and a f*cking grenade launcher to make sure Deaton didn’t come to rip it out. But he swallowed the urge down.

He jumped into his car and when he slammed the door of his Jeep, it rattled his bones as he took a breath. He pulled his phone out from his pocket and pulled up Derek’s contact.

To: Derek: Isaac invited me for dinner tonight. Is it alright if I join?

Stiles’ phone buzzed immediately, much to his surprise.

From: Derek: You’re always welcome. How is Peter? I just got off the phone with Scott.

To: Derek: He’s got thumbs and 32 teeth again so definitely better. He left without saying anything to me, so idk really…

From: Derek: Are you alright? I can come get you if you need?

To Derek: I’ll be okay.

From: Derek: I'm on my way. Stay put.

Stiles was taken aback by Derek’s blunt command but some part of him felt eased by it as well. He pulled off into the further part of the parking lot and was thankful to see black hair whipping in the wind as Derek ran up to him only ten minutes later. The wolf gave him a smile and wave and opened the driver’s door.

“Scoot over,” Derek said and Stiles obeyed without thought, crawling over the center console and into the passenger seat.

“You didn’t have to come, I really am fine,” Stiles declared. He knew the wolf could hear his lie, but that wasn't going to stop him from at least attempting it.

Derek rolled his eyes as he twisted the keys to start the ignition. “I wanted to come.”

Stiles smiled at him, “Thanks,” he replied, his voice soft. It was still new, all of this. Derek rushing to make sure he was alive was one thing, but the alpha caring about Stiles' emotional state was fairly new territory. The spark's feelings, at least for the past couple of years, had been something he'd needed to deal with all by himself. If he was being honest, he'd say that it felt awkward. He was a grown man, and he should be able to soothe himself. But in that moment, looking at Derek who'd seemingly ran here from the preserve, he felt grateful he didn't have to do this alone anymore.

Derek kept quiet as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road. Stiles let his head rest against the glass and looked out as the trees passed by, feeling calmed by Derek’s silent presence.

“What happened?” Derek asked a few minutes into the drive. Stiles was never this quiet, and it was enough to make Derek anxious.

Stiles sighed, “Peter didn’t talk to me, which I get. But Deaton pretty much threatened me and I’m worried he-“ Stiles’ words caught in his throat and emotion flooded him.

Derek slowed at the red light and reached over to lace his fingers with Stiles’. They were shaking, and he rubbed his thumb in an attempt of comfort. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much.”

Stiles shook his head. “The Nematon is regrowing. I’ve been helping it. I think-well, I know, Deaton wants me to stop.”

Derek looked over at him, “Deaton wants things to stay the way they’ve always been. He knows how powerful the Nematon was when it was still alive. He’s just scared.”

The spark nodded, “I know but I’m scared he’s going to rip it out.”

“Do you want to go check on it?” Derek asked as he made a turn towards the preserve.

Stiles nodded. “I do. But I don’t wanna make us late for dinner and I told Isaac I’d get us some joints from one of the dispensaries downtown.”

Derek laughed a bit, “I can take you there after, but I’ll have to hide in the car. But we have plenty of time.”

-

As they neared the tree stump, Stiles felt goosebumps break out over the soft flesh of his arms. He always felt like he’d been shocked with electricity whenever the bottoms of his feet connected with the twisting root system of this tree he’d become so intertwined with. Almost like it recharged him, in a way. He took a deep breath of relief at seeing his sapling. “Thank god,” he huffed, running up to stroke the soft green stem of the tree. A relieved smile spread across his face as he traced the new leaves and branch nubs with his fingers. He watched as the glittering gold of his veins began to float and fall onto the stem like pollen drifting in the wind. The tree began to glow and this time, its base thickened as it grew. The wood at the base of the stump splintered to accommodate the growing sapling. Stiles pulled his fingers away and the glow faded. He smiled.

Derek came up behind him, looking at the new growth with intrigue. “You made this?”

Stiles turned around, a bit of embarrassment showing up in the red blush on his cheeks. “Actually, I think it was both of us. I found the small little sprig not long after I brought you back. I’ve been helping it grow faster and watering it for a little while.” Stiles left out his visions. He still didn't know how to tell Derek about them. That all he had to do was close his eyes and Stiles could see the faces that probably haunted Derek's dreams. Hear the thunderous rumble of Benjamin Hale's laugh, the cool rasp of his mother's comforting words. Instead, Stiles turned back and smiled, looking up at the tree. He briefly wished he’d brought something to protect it. His mind flooded with runes from his research but he couldn’t remember which ones were used for protection.

“Why?” The wolf asked, with no hint of accusation in his tone. Only genuine curiosity.

Stiles took a breath, “I don’t really know. I just feel like it’s the right thing to do. Like maybe everything will get better if we can somehow repair the scar on this land. I know that the Nematon is a beacon, but maybe it being so broken and dead is why it attracts more evil than good.”

Derek hummed, and Stiles jumped when he felt Derek’s hand on the small of his back. “I think you’re right.”

Stiles leaned into Derek’s touch and found his heart beat calm. “I missed you, thank you for coming.” He looked into Derek’s green eyes, seeing the reflection of the treetops in them. He felt his knees go weak. Derek was as much, if not more, a part of this land as Stiles was. He was born to it, destined to inherit it. His dark hair was the dried lotus pods on the sides of the scattered ponds, his tan skin the dirt that held it all together, his eyes the mossy rocks on the river banks, and the red glow of his wolf the blood moon that painted the forest in scarlet hues the night he returned.

“I missed you too.” Derek looked at him with fondness and this new softness Stiles was still getting used to.

The spark wondered if he’d ever stop feeling shocked when Derek leaned in to kiss him. Their lips pressed together softly and gently, like a ‘hello’. It was sweet and gentle and it didn’t linger very long. Derek pulled away first.

Stiles leaned in, hoping for more, but the wolf shook his head. "Unless you want to dunk yourself in the creek before we go back to the house, It's probably not the best idea."

"I hate werewolf smelling powers so much," Stiles whined. "Why can't I just dump myself in cologne?"

Derek laughed and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"I guess that will suffice," the spark teased.

They broke apart and Derek offered his hand. Stiles smiled wide and took it excitedly. They walked, hand in hand, back to the Jeep in comfortable silence.

-

Stiles came out of the dispensary with a bag full of goodies and was surprised to see Derek wasn’t in the Jeep. He looked around before opening the door and finding Derek ducked beneath the dashboard, his head tucked into his arms. Stiles laughed at the sight. “What are you hiding from?”

Derek’s head shot up, “One of Eli’s teachers,” he said in an annoyed, hushed tone.

"What? You don't want them thinking you're a bad influence?" the spark teased.

Derek shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "No, I don't want them to think Eli's being raised by a ghost."

Stiles felt a pang of guilt that Derek had to do this, that he was basically forced to become a hermit after years of growth. Stiles motioned for Derek to scoot and he took over, driving them quickly out of town.

“We have to come up with a better plan than this. You shouldn’t have to hide for the rest of your life,” Stiles sighed.

The other man hummed. “I know. I just- I don’t want to leave. Especially not now.”

Stiles pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you. But you deserve a life just as much as Eli does. I need to start looking for an apartment myself too. It’s not like I can just stay with my dad forever.” Derek went silent and Stiles immediately realized how cruel his words must have sounded. “Wait-I didn’t mean it like that-”

The alpha sighed loudly, rubbing his forehead. “No, you’re right. Eli is getting older. Three years and he’ll be off to college…” he shook his head, a sad smile on his face, “Where did all the time go? It feels like literally yesterday I found him-” Derek cut himself off, and had this look like he’d said too much.

Stiles knew he shouldn’t pry, but he was never very good at that. “Found him?”

Derek looked over at him, eyes darting around nervously. “Um…yeah.”

Stiles waved his hands around dramatically, “Please tell me Eli is actually your kid and you didn’t just find a baby in a dumpster and turn him into a wolf.”

Derek laughed a bit but there was still a lingering nervousness in the sound, “Eli is mine.”

Stiles waited for more of an explanation but none came. “So did you, like, find him in the foster system? No one ever really explained it to me. It was just Scott texting me saying ‘dude, Derek has a kid now’ with like, no further explanation. I’ve wanted to ask for a while but I didn’t want to be insensitive.”

Derek looked around, like he wanted to throw himself out of the Jeep. But instead, he turned back to face Stiles and took a deep breath. “I don’t know who Eli’s mom is… If I’m being honest, I don’t know if he even has one.”

Stiles almost swerved off the road, but instead pulled over into a gravelly side road and stopped the car. “What do you mean?!”

Derek ran his fingers through his hair. “I found Eli in the woods, crying and all alone. A little werewolf pup with golden eyes.” The alpha got a far off look on his face and Stiles stayed quiet, letting him take as long as he needed to spell this all out. “He was so scared but as soon as I picked him up he just nuzzled into my arms. I took him to your dad, and then to the hospital. He was a wolf so we didn’t want to just put him up for adoption and risk someone adopting him who didn’t know about werewolves.” Derek leaned back in his seat, “Melissa ran some tests and she told me he was a perfect match to me. I guess she saw some resemblance and took a guess to compare our blood.”

Stiles’ jaw was wide but he tried not to explode with questions.

Derek continued, “The other half of his DNA was foreign. I have no clue who. Your dad offered to run it through the system but I didn’t want to. Him and Melissa are the only ones who know how I found him. Everyone else thinks that I just don’t wanna talk about his mom. He was my son, and that was enough for me. But I hadn’t um… been physical with anyone since Braeden.” The wolf shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “And, if you didn’t notice by his literally translucent skin, there’s no way she’s his mom. I hadn’t even seen her in years since Eli would’ve theoretically been conceived.” Derek’s shoulders fell and Stiles felt like he could see the weight of this secret off his shoulders.

“Eli doesn’t know?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. “He knows that he’s my son and that’s it. Of course, he’s asked me a million times but I always tell him I’ll talk to him about it when he’s older. Maybe it’s because I want to be able to give him a real answer.” Derek looked down at his feet and Stiles could see his irises getting glassy.

“You found him in the woods? Where exactly?”

Derek’s head snapped up and his eyes went wide. He paused for a moment. “Near the Nematon.”

Stiles’ mind jumped immediately to the tales of changelings he’s read, but he didn’t want to put that thought into Derek’s mind. “Weird,” was all he said in response.

“To me, it was like a miracle. I’d been so alone all that time. And he was perfect. I took him in and went crazy trying to figure out how to be a dad, but he would just look at me and giggle and it made all my worries melt. I don’t think I ever would’ve had the guts to start a family of my own because…” Derek trailed off and Stiles didn’t need to ask where that sentence was going.

“You’re right,” Stiles cut in.

The other man looked over at him, a bit confused at Stiles’ comment.

“I just meant,” Stiles began, “You’re right that it doesn’t matter who his mom is. He has you. And now he has a pack. But if you want to figure out who his mom is, for Eli’s sake, then I would gladly help.”

“Really?” Derek asked, and Stiles could see the tears fighting not to escape the wolf’s eyes.

Stiles nodded and gave his alpha a smile and laced their fingers together, squeezing Derek’s hand lovingly. They drove to Derek’s house and Stiles tried to fight this burning feeling in his chest that he could only describe as jealousy. He was, afterall, jealous. Jealous of the life Derek and Eli shared that Stiles wasn’t a part of. For all the time missed. Jealous of their family that he’d never really be a part of. Underneath that envy was rage. Most of all, a violent anger towards whoever was lucky enough to have a son like Eli and a partner like Derek, and simultaneously stupid enough to abandon them.

Chapter 39: Sugar and Smoke

Chapter Text

“Hey Dad! And Stiles!” Eli called out from the backyard.

The two headed back and found the teen lounging in the grass, a book tossed to his side. He looked tired, sprawled out with his limbs like a starfish in the lawn, the early evening sun painting him in hues of peach and pink.

Derek ran over and dragged his son to his feet and gave him a crushing hug. It was clear his conversation with Stiles brought up a lot of emotion for his kid. Stiles watched with a smile.

“Woah!” Eli laughed in surprise, but let himself be hugged. They parted after a few seconds and Derek was fighting the tears burning at the back of his throat.

“Hey, bud, how’s your summer reading going?” Stiles asked, staying a few paces behind the father and son.

“It’s going,” Eli sighed, leaning over to pick the book off the grass. “It’s like, I get that the Great Gatsby is a classic but it’s actually so boring.”

Stiles laughed, “I liked it.”

“Me too,” Derek chimed in. “Besides Catcher in the Rye it was one of my favorites we read in English class.”

“Well you guys were both good at school. Me, not so much.” Eli looked dejected, a bit disappointed actually. It reminded Stiles of Scott. Of all those hours he’d spent helping him study, just for it to fall out of his head the second the teacher put the test down on his desk.

Derek shook his head, “That’s not true. You got an A in history and biology last year.”

“You’re leaving out my three C’s in Math, English, and Gym. How do you get a C in Gym?!”

Derek tilted his head and sighed, “Well, I'd imagine that you would hide behind the bleachers instead of running the mile with everyone.”

Eli’s eyes bugged out.

“Coach told me,” Derek explained before his son tried to deny the accusation.

Eli, much like Stiles, knew very well how to twist a conversation around. “I do like History because it’s, like, real stuff that actually happened. With English lit, I don’t get all the metaphors and prose or whatever. It’s all fake.”

Derek hummed and took the book from Eli’s hands, flipping through the pages like it would jog his memory, “Metaphors are just symbols to reinforce the plot that’s already there, and beautiful prose is the decoration. It's nice to read but you shouldn’t focus too much on it. It’s not fake, either. Books are always based on real life to some extent. Just focus on the characters and try to put yourself in their shoes.”

Eli rolled his eyes, “I would never wait five years for a married woman, that’s so desperate. And kind of creepy.” His face spread into a grimace.

Stiles laughed a bit, both at Derek’s advice that made him sound like an english teacher, and Eli’s blunt comment.

“He loved her, he’d wait forever,” Derek replied, his voice soft and honest. “Just being able to see the light was enough for him to feel close to her.”

Stiles ducked his head, trying desperately not to look over at Derek or Eli in fear they’d see the blush on his cheeks at the alpha’s words. Is that how he really felt? Would he have waited forever for Stiles if all of this hadn’t happened?

“You’ll understand it when you fall in love, Eli,” Derek kissed his son’s forehead and handed him back the book. “Just try your best, I’m sure you’re one of the few kids who are even reading it instead of watching the movie.”

The teen groaned, “There’s a movie?! And you’re just telling me now?!” His shoulders slumped in defeat.

Stiles and Derek both chuckled at him before they all headed inside to get started on dinner.

-

“Hey mama wolf, how are you?” Stiles asked when Cora appeared in the corner of the kitchen. Stiles was peeling potatoes to boil and mash while Derek worked on the steaks and the greens.

“Good. Morning sickness hasn’t kicked in yet but apparently it will soon,” Cora groaned. “How about you? I haven’t seen you since uh the Peter thing.”

Stiles’ lips twisted uncomfortably. “I’m okay. It was a lot but I’m hoping things die down for a bit,” he set down the peeler and knocked his knuckles against the wood of the table in front of him three times. “Knock on wood.”
Cora laughed a bit. “You two look cute cooking in here. I don’t actually know if I want Derek to leave. It’s nice not having to cook.”

Derek turned around from his spot to face his sister. “You could cook one of these nights,” he teased.

“Nah, you love cooking for us!” She declared. “Just like mom always did.”

Derek gave her a soft smile and turned around, not denying it.

“Is it an alpha thing?” Stiles questioned, walking next to Derek and tossing his last peeled potato into the pot and starting it up to boil. He tried not to think too hard about how nice this was. How domestic, as well. Cooking with Derek, hearing Eli laugh at the TV in the living room playing reruns of New Girl episodes, watching Cora’s belly swell and Isaac press grossly adorable kisses to the little bump. All things that filled Stiles’ chest with Christmas lights and powdered sugar. He knew it was love. It was only natural to love your pack, he only hoped some day they’d all feel the same about him.

“Yeah, it is. It’s instinct but also kind of tradition. Not a hard rule, though,” Derek answered.

“They’re pretty much hardwired to be providers,” Cora explained. “In the past, Alphas and their closest betas would be the ones to go on hunts. The whole ‘alpha eats first’ thing that people think about wolves is totally the opposite though. In all of my other packs, the alpha made sure everyone else had started to eat before they did.”

“True, usually Dad ate first,” Derek chimed in.

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s a little sexist, no?”
Derek and Cora both laughed a bit. “Actually, it’s kind of the opposite,” Derek remarked as he walked to the fridge to get the butter and herbs out.

“Dad was mom’s mate,” Cora started, “so she had to make sure he ate first as his alpha and provider.”

Stiles smiled, he felt so honored that the Hales trusted him enough to talk about their family so openly like this. Time really had changed both of them. “That’s pretty cute,” he responded, trying not to think about how Derek always did the same. Every night Stiles had been here, even before they got together, Derek sat patiently waiting for Stiles to dig into whatever was on the menu before he began to eat himself. The spark couldn’t let himself linger on the thought, however. If he did, he’d surely begin to stink up the kitchen with pheromones.

As Stiles went to walk towards the island to clean up the pile of potato peels, he felt Derek’s hand brush on his lower back, just out of sight to where Cora couldn’t see. It sent a shock through his body and he found himself stumbling over his feet, almost falling face first into the corner of the counter. Derek had him in his arms before Stiles could even reach. The alpha’s arms wrapped around his waist and quickly pulled him back up.

Cora and Isaac, who of course decided to make his way into the kitchen right before Stiles tripped, were both laughing hysterically. And smiling at the two men with far too much amusem*nt.

“Good to see some things haven’t changed. Stilinski still has two left feet,” Cora chuckled.

“FBI training must not be too rigorous these days,” Isaac followed as he walked into the kitchen, sipping on a mug of hot tea.

Stiles quickly removed himself from Derek’s embrace, stumbling away from him. The spark’s chest and face completely covered in splotchy, red blush. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said, sarcasm drenched in his tone. “I’ll have you know, I actually was one of the best at our hand to hand combat training course. Probably because the rest of the twenty-something year olds didn’t spend highschool fighting off literal monsters.”
Isaac shook his head, with a twisted smirk on his face. “Ehhhh, I’m not buyin’ it.”

“You can literally tell when I’m lying!” Stiles screeched, holding his arms out wide like he wanted everyone to back him up.

“Maybe with your new magic you found a spell to conceal your lies,” the beta suggested with heavy drama in his tone, earning a giggle from his mate.
Stiles picked up a spatula, “Don’t make me do this, Isaac,” he teased, wiggling the metal spatula around like a sword.

Isaac laughed, setting down his mug and picking up the top of one of the lids off the counter. He held it to his chest, using it as a shield. “You’ll never catch me,” he ran off.

“Come back here, scarf!” Stiles yelled, swinging around the utensil and running around the counter after Isaac, into the living room.

Derek didn’t even notice he was laughing until he saw Cora squinting at him, like she was trying to figure something out. Her dark, accusatory, eyes on him immediately made his smile fade. The wolf turned around quickly, tossing some salt into the boiling potato pot.

“You’re happy,” Cora cooed, wiggling around in the bar stool she was sitting on. A hint of tease in her words.

“Of course I am,” Derek responded, not turning around to look at his sister. He instead just turned on the head for the cast iron and busied himself twisting rosemary and thyme into bundles to baste their steaks with.

“You’re really happy,” Cora repeated. “I can smell it over all the food in here. You literally smell like a strawberry donut.”

“Is that a bad thing?” The alpha questioned, as he began to slice the edges of fat off all their steaks.

Cora sighed, “Of course not. It’s nice.” She leaned back, watching in amusem*nt as Stiles chased Isaac around the couch. She shook her head, tucking her dark hair behind her ears before bringing her attention back to her brother. “You really like having a pack again, don’t you?”

Derek nodded, still afraid to meet the beta’s eyes.

He heard her stand up and walk next to him by the stove. “You really like Stiles being around too.”

Derek said nothing, just tossed a thick knob of butter onto the pan.

Thankfully, before Cora could pry anymore, Stiles, Isaac, and now Eli, all ran through the kitchen screaming Monty Python quotes at each other. All the while trying to poke each other with random household objects as their swords. Eli’s was a long ruler, Isaac’s a broom, and Stiles still wielding his spatula. Stiles got a good poke at Isaac, earning a shout from the curly haired beta, before they all stumbled through the kitchen into the dining room.

“Please be careful! I have the nice plates out!” Derek yelled out to the boys, his hands on his hips, trying not to go running after them. He forgot being an alpha was like being a father to all his betas. Wrangling puppies was something his parents were always good at. Derek didn’t know if he was doing as good of a job.

Cora snorted at him and walked into the living room, pausing by the entrance. “You sound like Mom.”

-

Eli, Stiles, and Isaac all helped Derek set up the table for dinner. Stiles manning the mashed potatoes that he made, of which he was very proud. Eli brought all the silverware, and Isaac carried the veggies. Derek individually plated everyone’s steaks cooked exactly how they liked. Cora’s medium rare, Isaac’s well done, Stiles’ medium rare, Eli’s also medium rare, Derek’s rare. He smiled as he watched them all dig in, pride blooming in his chest as they all thanked him for cooking their steaks ‘just right.’ He waited to see Stiles slide the first bite into his mouth before Derek cut into his. Perfect, red and bloody just how he liked it. He stopped, trying Stiles’ potatoes first and he couldn’t help the noise that left his mouth.

“How are these so good?” The alpha moaned.

Stiles beamed. “Special family recipe,” he laughed. “I’m glad you like them!”

Eli dug in next, followed by the other wolves, all moaning and giving praise. Stiles lit up and Derek could smell his pride and happiness even over all the garlic and charred meat in the room. It smelled better than anything on the table.

They chatted casually as they ate, Cora expressing how she was lining up a job for about a year after the pup was born. A gardener at one of the botanical gardens a bit out of town. Derek could picture it. Her with dirt on her cheeks and big cactus gloves on, a little curly haired pup with flowers tucked behind their ears. Isaac beamed with pride.

“I need to find something to do,” Stiles sighed. “I want to focus on my spark but I’ll run out of money soon enough, I was thinking of working at one of the libraries in town.”

“None of you should worry about money. I have plenty for us and more,” Derek expressed before shoving more of the mashed potatoes Stiles made into his mouth.

Cora scoffed, “You should be happy to have a pack that wants to make their own money and not survive off all the insurance and trusts Mom and Dad left us.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I know that. And I am. I just meant that if Stiles wants to stop working for a while, he doesn’t need to worry about making money.” He turned his attention to the honey-eyed boy who was sitting directly across from him at the table. He was looking at Derek with wide eyes. “Your spark is important. To you and to the pack. That should be your priority.”

“Sugar Daddy Derek,” Isaac joked. Cora laughed, and Eli made a fake gagging sound.

Stiles, however, nearly choked on the bite of perfect steak in his mouth. He coughed and grabbed the water next to him, chugging it and attempting to loosen the meat lodged in his throat. Thankfully, it went down with only minimal pain. “Um,” he cleared his throat. “Thanks, Derek. That’s really kind of you but I think I have this thing where if I don’t contribute, I’ll die of shame and embarrassment.”

“You contribute more than enough. The offer is always on the table,” Derek replied.

Stiles hoped the smell of dinner was enough to cover whatever blush might smell like.

-

After dinner was cleaned up and Cora and Eli both turned in for the night, Isaac, Derek, and Stiles found themselves on the patio outside. Derek walked out to the shed to grab firewood and start a small campfire. It was still warm, summer lingered in California for most of the year after all, but the wind had a tinge of chill that let Stiles know Autumn was headed for them soon. His mind drifted to his sapling. He hoped it would still be able to grow during the chillier months. He wondered if its little green leaves would soon turn to warmer hues, shriveling and falling down to the ground.

Here, in the backyard that was starting to feel less and less like ‘Derek’s house’ and more and more like just ‘home’, Stiles watched the stars begin to peek out of the dark blue sky. The songs of the crickets are still echoing through the woods, and the grass under their feet is just the littlest bit yellower than it was weeks ago. He wondered how this time would pass. What would change in the coming seasons?

“How was your first dispensary trip?” Isaac asked as he watched Stiles pull out a small black, zip-locked bag from his hoodie pocket.

“Dude, it’s wild. I haven’t smoked in so long. There were like a million options, I hope I got something good. I just told the budtender to give me a couple of joints of whatever was his favorite.”

“Nice. Yeah, it can be kind of overwhelming in there.” Isaac leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and stretching out like a cat.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know weed worked on werewolves,” Stiles said as he brought his legs up to his chest and settled into the comfy lawn chair.

“Nothing else does,” Isaac replied. “I didn’t know until I accidentally ate a pot brownie a couple of years ago and Cora had to babysit me for the night,” he laughed.

Stiles took a second to look at Isaac. The stubble blooming on his cheeks and chin, the once short hair now a mess of curls falling onto his face. He had this same ease to him that Derek had. Maybe it was being a dad, or a future dad in Isaac’s case, that graced them with softness where they once held so much grit.

“Isaac, wanna get her started?” Derek asked as he tossed dry logs into the fire pit and wiggled a firestarter underneath.

The beta nodded, getting up out of his seat and pulling a lighter from his pocket. Derek sat in the chair closest to Stiles and they both watched as the blonde struggled to get the fire to light with the strong breeze.

Stiles stood up, “Can I try?” he asked.

Isaac nodded and handed him the lighter, but Stiles declined. Isaac’s blue eyes gazed at him skeptically but he didn’t say anything. Derek scooted his chair a few feet back.

“Here goes nothing,” Stiles said. He closed his eyes and reached for his spark. Its flickering light jolted him and when he opened his eyes, he was glowing like a firefly in the otherwise dark lawn. He smiled and looked at the tips of his fingers before grabbing the fire starter. He wrapped his spindly fingers around it and thought of warmth. Of fireplaces dawned with stockings, of the smell of pine tree smoke on Derek’s skin, and the way the stars above them twinkled. As he did, he jumped a bit, the wood lit up in flames. Instinctively, he almost dropped it. But as he felt the flames tickling his palms and wrists, he realized it didn’t hurt him at all. He set the firestarter down, wiggling it back under the dry logs which quickly caught aflame.

“Woah,” Isaac gasped. “That’s so cool.”

Stiles turned around to look at them, a proud smile on his face. Ever since Peter, he was scared to try out this particular power. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. That fire was born of fear and self defense, this one was not. It was born from warmth and love. He wondered if it would hurt any of his pack. “I’ve been wanting to try that again for a while, but I’ve been too nervous.”

“It’s amazing,” Derek said. He was looking up at Stiles with what could be adoration or veneration, Stiles squirmed under the intensity of it. His green eyes like dark olives in the night. He wanted to look into them forever. Instead, he just gave the wolf a goofy smile and thanked him, having a hard time tearing his eyes away from his alpha’s tan skin that was painted in the orange hues of the campfire.

“You have to light the joint like that,” Isaac begged.

Stiles laughed and grabbed the joint out of its little tube casing. He touched the tip of his finger to the end and saw his spark bleed into the rolling paper. It lit and little embers bloomed on the edge.

“I’m never buying a lighter again,” Isaac declared, trying to keep his voice low so as to not wake his pregnant mate or his nephew.

Stiles laughed and so did Derek.

The spark brought the joint to his lips and pulled in, inhaling and blowing it out slowly. It tasted like pineapple and cracked pepper. Oddly enough, the smoke didn’t burn his throat. It felt almost cool. He wondered if that was because his own fire couldn’t hurt him. He took another hit before passing it to Isaac. Isaac hit it a few times, coughed a bit, then handed it to Derek.

“Does the smoke feel cold to you guys?” Isaac asked.

“Yes! I thought it was just me, I figured my own- uh, fire, couldn’t hurt me!” Stiles bounced in his seat.

Stiles turned to watch Derek and he had to clench his jaw so as to not let it go slack. The wolf took a big pull, opened his mouth and breathed in the smoke through his nostrils. The thick white cloud spread into two distinct lines before it came back out of his mouth. He hit it again, normally, a small smile on his face as he saw Stiles staring.

“Was it cold?” Stiles chirped.

Derek looked at him with a smile, “Yeah not like cold but it didn’t feel hot either.”

Stiles beamed, “My fire can’t hurt my pack,” he whispered to himself, though he knew his packmates could hear him.

Derek smiled, and his gaze fell down at his feet with a look that seemed almost embarrassed.

“Fancy with that french inhale,” Isaac joked.

“I gotta learn how to do that,” Stiles said, hoping his amusem*nt at Derek’s party trick would look like enough of a reason for him to have been watching the alpha so intently.

Derek handed him the joint, and Stiles felt their fingers brush with a burst of lightning. He smiled and brought the joint to his lips, he opened his mouth and tried to sniff it, but it hit the back of his throat wrong and he coughed like crazy. So maybe it wouldn’t not hurt him, it just couldn’t burn him. The wolves laughed at him as he did so. “You guys are,” another cough, “mean.”

They finished off the joint and Stiles was floating. His limbs felt heavy, like they were stuck in molasses. The tips of his lips were sticky and tasted like whatever strain they smoked. The boys were all sitting in comfortable silence; Well, almost silence. The crackling of the fire was like tires on an old gravelly driveway, and the embers popped up into the air like sparklers. The wind that whipped around them sounded like ocean waves crashing. The crickets quieted, but you could hear the occasional hoot of an owl out in the woods. “I haven’t been this high since I was a kid,” Stiles spoke up, his voice slow and syrupy.

“I know, I found so many weed crumbs in your jeep when I cleaned it out,” Derek laughed, his voice raspy and slower than normal. It was so attractive Stiles almost didn’t actually hear the words that came out of the alpha’s mouth.

“Oh sh*t,” Stiles giggled, “I still can’t believe you did all that. Thank you again.”

“It was a nice project,” Derek answered. “I still need to get you a new clutch, though.”

“You used to smoke in highschool?” Isaac questioned. “You never smelled like it.”

Stiles turned to look over at Isaac. “Well, it was mostly before Scott was bitten. After that life felt too hectic. It’s not very smart to get stoned when at any second your friends could be getting shot at or mauled,” he meant it to sound like a joke, but the silence that followed was awkward.

Derek, thankfully, responded a few beats later. “You guys shouldn’t have had to go through that. I made a lot of mistakes.” The alpha got a far off look on his face, and Stiles immediately felt guilty for even mentioning the hell that was high school in Beacon Hills all those years ago. Between the alphas, the demons, the Deadpool, the ghost riders, it was like a foggy haze of constant dread in his gut. Stiles never knew when to shut up, and apparently that only got worse when he smoked.

Stiles whipped his head around, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It all started when me and Laura came back from New York,” Derek shook his head and bit his lip.

“No, it started with f*cking Kate,” Stiles barked, venom dripping from his lips.

“Let’s not talk about that crazy bitch,” Isaac chimed in. “Too high for all that.”

Stiles and Derek agreed. Now wasn't the time for those kinds of talks. Now was the time for bonding and relaxing. They all had been so stressed with the Peter thing, and this was the first day they'd had since it all started where they could just be. Be, and not be worried about anything. “Should we go play mario kart?” Stiles asked.

“Sounds good!” Isaac jumped out of his seat, clearly he’d been waiting to do that all night. He grabbed his drink and practically ran inside.

Stiles and Derek put out the fire together.

“Sorry for mentioning her,” Stiles whispered.

Derek shook his head, “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I just hate when you beat yourself up,” Stiles admitted as he dumped what was left of his water bottle onto the fire, turning the smoke to hot steam as he stepped back.

Derek gave him a soft smile, leaning over to look through the window, seeing Isaac already firmly planted on the couch and starting up the game. He took the chance to grab Stiles’ hand. It made the spark freeze. “Thank you,” he whispered as he rubbed his thumb gently over the tops of Stiles’ fingers. Almost like he was tracing them, committing their mountains and valleys to memory. Slowly and carefully. Stiles leaned forward, hoping for a kiss but Derek pulled away. “As much as I want to kiss you,” Derek said, so quietly Stiles could barely make it out. “We should head inside.”

The three men spent the next few hours trying their best to hold in their desire to scream when the other threw a banana back at them, they got bombed, inked, or hit with a shell. It was still so much fun. Stiles felt like a kid again. They tried to be quiet as they brought in bags of chips and dip from the kitchen and stuffed their faces on the couch. The sheer amount of sodium would've knocked lesser men to their feet but the wolves tore through nearly three bags of salt and vinegar chips, Doritos, and takis. Seeing Derek with orange stained gamer fingers spreading grease onto the controller, with matching cheese dust lips was arguably the funniest thing Stiles had seen all day. He thought briefly of Scott and wondered if the two of them could get to this place again. He'd probably have fun if he was here.

Isaac won the first two rounds, then Stiles, then Isaac, then Stiles again. Derek was admittedly terrible at Mario Kart. He was stuck firmly in tenth place nearly every game. He didn't seem mad though, he tried his best but every time Stiles would look over at him, the alpha was already looking at him. A sickeningly sweet grin on his face and rumbling laughs whenever Isaac freaked out because he got thrown off course. Stiles swore to himself that if Derek wasn't sitting next to him on the couch, their legs so close their thighs occasionally grazing, he would've won the Grand Prix. But, Derek was in loose dark grey pajama pants and an old band t shirt that clung to his large frame tightly. He had red, stoned eyes that were squinty and adorable. He laughed more freely. It wasn't really Stiles' fault that he didn't win that night.

Chapter 40: Lullabies

Chapter Text

Stiles fell asleep on the couch, arms dangling off the sides, his one leg tucked under him. He still had a slight tinge of orange around the corners of his lips from all the cheesy snacks they'd devoured earlier in the night. Derek watched his chest rise and fall and wondered how the hell that was even comfortable. His legs looked broken, the odd angle at which his right leg was jammed under the couch cushion. Isaac was upstairs, and when Derek focused his hearing, he could hear all three wolves snoring away. He took that as his sign.

Derek kneeled down, raising his fingers to trace the pale skin of the spark’s cheek. It was squished against the couch, the cheek fat pooled above his eye. Derek pinched it, so gently. He just couldn't help himself. The younger man was adorable when he slept.“Stiles,” he whispered.

Stiles groaned, swinging his arm up as an attempt to swat Derek away.

The wolf rolled his eyes and nudged the sleeping spark again. “Stiles, c’mon, you can sleep in my room.”

Stiles opened his eyes so slowly you would’ve thought they were glued shut. Blinking up at him one after the other like a chameleon. “Mm-what?”

Derek laughed, shaking his head before leaning down. He slid his hands under the other man and scooped him in his arms with ease, it was easier then arguing with a stubborn, sleeping Stiles. He was so light against his chest and he fit so perfectly in the space of Derek’s chest. It made him smile, getting flashbacks to carrying Stiles and his 'obliterated' toe.

Stiles’ eyes went wide as he woke up in Derek’s arms. He, surprisingly, didn’t flail around. No, he just nuzzled into Derek’s chest and breathed in through his nose. “You smell good,” he slurred.

Derek blushed and carried the younger man into his room, gently rolling him onto the bed. Derek went to turn out the light and walk away, but he was quickly hooked. Stiles had grabbed the waistband of his sweat pants and pulled him back. “Don’t go,” he said, voice thick with sleep, but he was clearly awake now.

Derek turned around, shaking his head. “I can’t stay with you, you know that,” he whispered, though every inch of his body was yearning to cuddle up to Stiles.

“We can just say we shared a bed because neither of us wanted to sleep on the couch. Your bed is literally massive. It’s not that weird,” Stiles pressed, looking up at Derek with pleading honey eyes and sleep-tousled hair that made it so hard for the wolf to deny him.

Derek went to walk away again but Stiles stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that was probably the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Big puppy dog eyes pouting at him, Stiles opened his arms motioning for the wolf to come crawl into them. It was too much. Derek caved. “Okay fine. But we can’t get too close,”

“No hanky panky,” Stiles crossed over his chest, “Scout’s honor.” He joked as he kicked off his jeans but kept his briefs and t-shirt on, despite his desire to feel Derek’s hairy, toned, stomach against the bare skin of his back.

Derek chuckled, “You were not a scout,” the alpha chuckled as he crawled under the covers and into Stiles’ open arms. The spark immediately twisted their legs together.

Stiles shook his head, nuzzling into the crook of Derek’s neck. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

-

They tangled their fingers together, and it was so...comfortable. Like they'd slept next to each other a hundred times. Stiles fell back asleep in Derek’s bed easily. It was huge and the comforters were nice, thick, and cool on his skin. His room smelled like chamomile and pine. Like he was nuzzled into a bag of sleepy time tea and wrapped in the warm heat of a werewolf's arms. The rhythmic sound of Derek's heartbeat under his ear was like a primal lullaby.

Only a few hours later, the spark opened his eyes to the dark room, feeling Derek pressed against his back, his hips grinding into Stiles’ ass. The wolf’s breath was hot against his neck and he could hear low grunts spilling from the older man's lips.

The spark turned around, seeing Derek’s eyes shut and clearly more asleep than awake. He peeked down as he scooted away, his jaw going slack at the big tent in Derek’s sweatpants. Even though it was covered, it was clearly hard and… well, huge.Stiles flipped over and the wolf wiggled closer to him, his hands wrapping around Stiles’ waist quickly. The younger man laughed at Derek’s forwardness but shook him by the shoulders. “Der, wake up,” he whispered. Derek leaned forward and brought his lips roughly to the open expanse of Stiles’ neck. He peppered sloppy, toothy kisses against his skin, it felt so good it was hard for Stiles to pull away.“C’mon, wake up Derek,” he sighed, shaking the wolf again.

“Huh? Oh f*ck,” Derek groaned, his eyes opening and seeing the blush painted pale skin of the man in front of him, lit only by the dim, orange, back porch light coming through the large window next to the bed. Derek looked down, feeling the stirring heat building in his low gut and the tightness of his sweatpants. His hardness was obvious and embarrassment poured down his neck like frigid ice water.

“It’s okay,” Stiles laughed. “Nice to wake up to you,” he teased. It was hot under the blankets, he could feel Derek still pressed against him.

Derek was mortified. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize.”

Stiles shook his head, “It was just grinding, a little groping, no big deal.”

Derek brought his hand away from Stiles, smacking his own forehead with it instead. Stiles pulled it away, grabbing Derek’s jaw and bringing their lips together for a painfully chaste kiss. Derek leaned away and rolled off the side of the mattress, grabbing a blanket from the corner of the bed. “I’m gonna go to the couch.”

“Derek, it’s okay,” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and tried to pull him back. He wasn’t upset at all. It was nice, but he figured he’d rather have an awake Derek biting and kissing him than the wolf half-asleep and clearly not aware of what he was doing.

The wolf smiled at him, kissed the top of his forehead. “I know, but obviously this wasn’t the best idea. It’s no big deal. You should get to bed,” Derek whispered. He walked out to the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him as quietly as he could. It was too late for a cold shower, so he just turned his head under the sink and chugged the running tap water before laying on the couch.

Back in the bedroom, Stiles was thinking of any gross imagery he could conjure in his mind to try to pull his mind away from where it wanted to go. And, where it wanted to go was, to Derek, hot and heaving into his ear, grinding against him. It was more than enough to get the attention of his lower-half. Stiles tossed off the comforter, hoping the slight breeze from the cracked window would be enough to cool him down. He tossed and turned for a while, but eventually sleep returned.

Stiles' dreams, however, didn’t get the memo.

His visions were of a dark forest, paintest in bright blue moonlight and drenched in murky shadows. Stiles was out of breath, panting and running. Howls echoed through the woods and Stiles didn’t know why he was running, but then he heard a loud, wet snap. He turned to see a black wolf, with a brown one running behind him. Their eyes glowing red and blue, respectively. They were growling and snarling at each other, both chasing after Stiles.

Stiles turned back around, swerving around a large tree and gaining a bit of advantage on them. He smiled, taking time to notice he was completely nude. His skin looked alabaster in the cold light of the full moon that shined down from above the treetops, his scattered moles like paint specks across his lithe body. He’d thought for a moment that he’d been able to outrun them. That was until he felt a large, wet tongue lapping up the sweat off the back of his leg. The spark turned to see the brown wolf foaming at the corners of his open mouth. His black gums peeled back to reveal shining, huge teeth. Its head turned to snap at the black wolf on his side.

Stiles’ heart was racing, his head spinning. The two wolves had begun to circle each other, pacing back and forth. The tension was thick and fear was sinking into his stomach. He watched the two animals, snapping at each other and lowering their heads as they sized each other up. Stiles took a breath. Then, he made a run for it; but, as is common in dreams, he couldn’t make himself run. His legs felt weighed down, as if they were shackled with lead and stuck in syrup. He felt teeth nipping at his heels, and he gave up. Falling to the cold forest floor with a thump.

Stiles felt a wolf’s snout wiggling under his belly and flipped him up so his back was against the ground. He looked and saw the inky black fur begin to shed. It shifted, and Derek was in front of him. Bipedal and completely naked. Dark hair painting his thick chest, toned abs and legs. His eyes were burning red and his fangs were dropped down over his lips as he smiled. “Stiles,” he growled.

Before the spark could get a word in, Derek fell to his knees and grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck as he crashed their lips together. It was hot and desperate and Stiles could taste coppery, thick blood on his lips. He knew Derek had sunk his teeth into his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It didn’t hurt, it felt good. He leaned into it before he felt the fangs pull out of his flesh and the wolf began licking and kissing the rushing blood up.

Stiles' eyes peeked open, and he saw his entire circulatory system was lit up in that warm orange, the sparkling light drifting up around them, circling them like fireflies. It sunk into Derek's body, like patches of fireworks underneath the tan skin. He felt Derek’s co*ck against his thigh as the wolf began to rut against the naked, fuzzy skin.

Stiles moaned, twisting his fingers in Derek’s dark hair, “Please,” he found himself whimpering, begging. He’d waited so long for this.

Derek laughed against his lips, grabbed the spark’s waist and flipped him back around. Stiles’ face was buried in a thick pile of crispy, fallen leaves. It smelled like rain, wet earth, and sex. He didn’t even mind. He felt the wolf nibble on the squishy meat of his ass, almost gnawing on the skin there. “Derek, please f*ck me,” Stiles whined, sticking his ass up in the air, not even caring how pathetic it made him seem.

He felt clawed hands on his hips, digging into the soft flesh they found. He gasped at the sharp, delicious pain they caused. “Not yet baby,” Derek’s raspy, deep voice growled.

Stiles woke up in Derek’s bed, shooting up to his elbows quickly. He was covered in hot sweat and panting. Derek was standing by the bed with an amused smile. “Mornin’,” the wolf said with the hugest smirk on his face, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a long, dramatic, sip.