Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started off slow, the relationship Stiles has with the Hale Pack. Scott had decided not to join Derek's pack and everyone assumed that meant Stiles did too. It was his ADHD that made him grow restless and the impulsivity of the disorder that made him occasionally drive over to Derek's loft. It was his hunger for knowledge that made him start to stay longer and longer when Derek let him read the surviving texts from his family's library. It was his depression that made him return. He hated being alone when he felt the darkness creeping in. Scott was always busy with Allison and Stiles hated himself for resenting his friend for being happy so he occupied his time at the Hale Headquarters (as he called it) while his dad was away, which was more and more frequent these days. 

He also liked being around Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. All three of the kids were lonely for one reason or another and in need of support and care- especially Isaac. Stiles knew what that was like, he'd felt the same helplessness when his mom died and left him in the care of his father who'd turned to the bottle. He saw the signs in them and just like he did as a small child he began to make meals and clean up for the three pups. 

They were slow to trust him at first most likely from considering him to be apart of Scott's pack. Perhaps the fact that Derek slammed him up against walls and appeared annoyed with him all the time didn't help his case. But Stiles kept coming. He kept showing up at the last minute and offering them vital information to take the biggest and baddest monsters down. He kept risking his life and saving theirs (mostly Derek's). 

Stiles is stubborn and brave and loyal to a fault. Every time he shows up and Derek tenses up the pack would bristle until he clapped a hand on Derek's shoulder and smiled widely. For whatever reason when he made physical contact with the older man and Derek didn't stop him the pack relaxed with his presence. They even talked to him at school sometimes- mostly when they needed something or if they needed homework help. Scott would always give him a dirty look when he chatted amicably with them. Stiles would roll his eyes and shrug at his best friend. He needed this, needed to be needed like this. 

It wasn't like they were best friends or anything, he still hung out with Scott when he wasn't obsessed with Allison, but he began to feel a pull towards the pack members. The strongest pull though was toward Derek. They spent long nights in his bedroom doing research together anytime weird things started to happen in Beacon Hills. Those research sessions were annoying at first but somehow turned soothing. Derek's ever looming presence with his alpha strength made Stile's feel safe from all things that go bump in the night-especially while his dad was at work. The first few times was awkward for Stiles because he found it difficult to fill the silence. Every time he opened his mouth Derek shot him a look that made him shut it just as quickly. 

Their relationship changes- it morphs into mild annoyance on Derek's part and something akin to liking on Stiles's. The most important development is the trust. Stiles trust the alpha with his life and more importantly the lives of his dad, Scott, and Melissa McCall. Stiles tends to care about everyone in his life more than himself. Derek tends to do the same. It's why their research sessions work. Both males are too worried about something happening to the people in their lives to actually stop researching and get a good nights rest. They care too much about everyone else to take care of themselves. 

They have dinner or snacks together at least. Derek will sit on Stiles bed and Stiles will be perched in his computer chair and occasionally sprawled out on the floor- always with a mass amount of books and paper with scribbles and highlighted passages. Stiles once read on the internet somewhere that holding a hot mug is good for people with depression. He's been diagnosed with it since he was 12 years old and he's not a psychologist but he's certain Derek suffers from it too. He makes them cups of steaming hot coffee, tea, or cocoa depending on their mood. If they are going over a particularly tough case with a lot of deaths (yes he calls them cases because he likes to think of him and Derek as sexy detectives sue him!) and a monster that's impossible to track down he makes them cocoa with extra marshmallows and whipped cream and sometimes chocolate syrup on top. When his mind wont stop spinning with useless thoughts and he can't seem to stop fidgeting because of his tics he makes them tea preferably a floral kind because the aroma calms him and reminds him of his mother. Other nights when it seems they wont get any sleep at all he makes pot after pot of coffee. Derek always bitches that Stiles should drink it black because its healthier but he always puts a bit of cream in both of theirs anyway. He thinks Derek secretly likes sweet things but like all things he enjoys he refuses to let himself appreciate them, preferring to torture himself from guilt that isn't always his to bear. 

Lately there have been open graves at the local cemetery where bodies have gone missing and a relative of each of the deceased have turned up dead. However, after a family member has turned up dead the skeleton of the body has been returned. The ground covered as if the graves had never been touched at all. They've already had three and a half cups of coffee each and are getting nowhere. It's nearly 6 in the morning and Derek is sat on the floor beside Stiles looking at a map he's made of the cemetery and the younger boys laptop as the obituaries are pulled up. None of the deceased have anything in common. The graves that were dug up aren't even in close proximity to each other. Everything seems to be random. Nothing is making any sense and a migraine is forming behind Stiles's eyes. Even Derek has stifled a yawn and scrubbed his hand over his face from exhaustion. 

"C'mon." Stiles says setting his lukewarm cup of coffee down as he stands up and makes his way towards his bed. He crawls into the side closest to the wall and pulls the covers over himself. When Derek doesn't move he looks up at him to find his eyebrows raised in confusion. "Christ Derek just get in the bed. We've been up three nights in a row and pretty soon we're both gonna drop dead from exhaustion before anything supernatural can get to us first." Derek is looking at Stiles like he's just sprouted werewolf claws and fangs. "Listen here mister don't you go getting any ideas now. I am perfectly innocent and virginal and don't mean anything by it. I know you have a deep rooted guilt and fear of intimacy. So calm your hairy wolf tits and get in the bed. To. Sleep." He emphasized with a dramatic pause between words. 

Derek gave a long suffering sigh and shrugged his leather jacket off and set it gingerly on the chair. He toed his boots off and peeled his jeans off and let them drop to the floor. He sat on the bed as far from Stiles as he could and laid down stiffly beside him. Stiles grabbed the corner of the blanket and threw it over to cover Derek, patting him on the stomach as he did so. "Relax, dude, if anyone's going to bite anyone it's you." He slurred sleepily turning to nuzzle his face in his pillow. 

"Don't call me dude." Derek grumbled but pulled the covers over himself anyway. 

"Fine now shut up I have to be up for school in like an hour." He mumbled right before falling asleep. 

Stiles alarm went off and he hit snooze eight times until finally he woke up with only 45 minutes till class starts. He got up as quietly as possible surprised Derek was still fast asleep beside him. Shouldn't werewolves wake up at the slightest noise? Including Stiles alarm going off nine times? Whatever, Derek probably was as exhausted as Stiles felt. He popped three Adderalls, two antidepressants, an anxiety pill, and a multivitamin because yes he cares about his health...kind of. He slipped a plaid long sleeve shirt over the wrinkled t-shirt he slept in and quickly put clean boxers and jeans on. He grabbed two random socks and put them on as well grabbed his back pack.

He went to the door but turned around and glanced at Derek. The older man is laying on his front, one arm under the pillow the other under his cheek . The blanket sits just above his boxers on his very nicely muscled back. He hesitates for a moment before pulling his blanket up and over the werewolf to keep him warm. With one final look that definitely wasn't full of longing, no not at all, he turned and left. Stiles closed his bedroom door quietly behind him and ran downstairs and quietly as possible. He grabbed his keys started the jeep and peeled out down the road.

Stiles gets to school and has just enough time to brush his teeth in the boys bathroom. There's another boy inside named Rick or Roger or something like that washing his hands in the sink beside him. Stiles had one class with him in the 8th grade and remembers him because the kids dad died in a car accident and he missed three weeks of school and ended up failing a grade because of it. Suddenly Rick or Roger looks up and around the bathroom widely. "Do you hear that?" He asks.

"Hear what?" Stiles asked around his toothbrush because all he hears is the running water and kids running around the halls outside. There are voices too but he can't make out anyone by name. 

"The bells! It sounds like church bells. You don't hear that?" Rick/Roger asks turning to face him in confusion as Stiles shakes his head the hand holding his toothbrush dropping as he strains to hear whatever bells he's talking about. "I heard them last night but they've been getting louder and louder." He explains as if it would make any sense to Stiles. "Damnit!" He yells covering his ears. "I can't take it anymore!" Rick/Roger storms out of the bathroom without drying his hands. 

Stiles quickly rinses his mouth out and shoves his travel toothbrush and toothpaste into his backpack before stepping out into the hallway. Rick/Roger is running down the hall and straight out the front door of the school like a maniac. It's totally weird but not the weirdest thing he's seen in his life so he files it in a to-think-about-later file and heads to his first class. 

Scott's already there and so is Allison and they're both making goo-goo eyes at each other until Allison spots him and her smile drops completely. "Stiles what-" She says with a deep frown. 

"Holy shit, Stiles!" Scott exclaims and immediately stands up from his seat and starts to crowd him. 

"No. It's fine. I'm fine." He says with a dismissive wave of his hand and slinks down into his own seat. 

"Stiles I mean this seriously as your best friend. You look like absolute shit." It comes out much more worried that Stiles would like to hear so he just nods his head because he knows he looks like shit. He knows and he doesn't need to be reminded of it. He saw his dark bags under his eyes in the mirror and the hollow of his cheeks and his tousled hair. Scott must smell something on him because his face sours. Derek. He must smell Derek on him. Stiles can't help but shut down when Scott starts to open his mouth to accuse him.

Allison, ever so compassionate, beats him to it. "Stiles what's going on? If you don't tell us we can't-" Allison starts but can't finish because their teacher comes into the classroom and they all take their seats. He spends his next class without either of them and rushes to lunch. Erica must see the look on his face as he's clearly looking for a way to avoid Scott so she links arms with him and drags him over to the table that the pack is sitting at. He plops down tiredly next to Isaac and lets out such a depressing sigh he's starting to sound like Derek. He knows the other wolves can smell Derek on him too because instead of asking him a bunch of questions they accept him being there as if he was a member of the pack. 

Isaac even rubs a soothing hand on his back as he rest his heads on his arms to try and sleep through lunch despite the fact that he hasn't eaten yet. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd talk quietly amongst themselves content to let Stiles rest beside them. It's like smelling of Derek puts them all at ease around him, as though they can smell the way their alpha trust him and it lets them know they can too. 

He's nearly asleep thanks to Isaac rubbing his back when he hears the low growl emitting from the blonde boy. He sits up in a daze and through bleary eyes he makes out Scott angrily approaching their table. He lets out another sigh. "Scott-" He starts but is interrupted by Scott coming in hot and once again crowding him. He's got his hand flat on the table leaning into his personal space. 

"Why do you smell like Derek? Why do you look like shit? And why are you sitting with his pack like you're one of them?" Scott asks, his eyes flashing yellow with a scowl on his handsome face. "What did Derek do to you?" He asks, taking in Stiles rumpled appearance. 

"What did Derek do to me? Scott, do you hear yourself? You sound crazy!" Stiles exclaimed as Erica and Boyd stood up protectively. Whether it's from what Scott said about Derek or for Stiles himself he can't be sure but in that moment he kind of appreciates it. He finds himself backing up slightly until he bumped into Isaac's chest who's eyes were also flashing yellow. He can tell from the faint rumbling coming from the blonde's chest that he's feeling protective of both him and Derek. "Derek wouldn't hurt me." He says sternly. 

"This is Derek we're talking about!" Scott says as if that clears everything up and makes perfect sense. It doesn't. 

"You don't even know him!" Stiles argues back. 

"Oh, and you do?" Scott sneers back. 

"Yes!" Stiles yells so loudly the entire cafeteria looks at him, including Jackson and Lydia who are about to stand up and head over. "Yes, I do know Derek." He says, dropping his voice to a low and angry tone. "I know Derek and you would've figured that out sooner if your head wasn't so far up Allison's ass that you didn't have time for me anymore. I've literally spent every night with Derek this week and you didn't even smell me on him until today." He doesn't mean for it to come out as suggestively as it does but he knows his heart doesn't skip because it's technically not a lie. The way Scott's face screws into disgust lets Stiles know that Scott took it the wrong way too. He couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied as soon as the guilt hit his best friend next. It melts away quickly when Scott tries to take a step back and stumbles like Stiles pushed him. 

"Are you in his pack now?" The hurt in Scott's voice is enough to actually break Stiles heart. He looks at the pack to help him explain his relationship to them and especially Derek but they look curious as if they're not sure of the answer either. Stiles wants the world to swallow him whole- but not literally because with everything supernatural going on he's not sure it's safe to even think that. Now, Stiles is panicking. "Zawsze będziesz pierwszy." He says. You will always be first. "Zawsze będziesz moim bratem." You will always be my brother. 

Scott isn't fluent in Polish but he's heard Stiles and the Sheriff speak to each other in it occasionally, especially in the years after Stiles mom died because she only spoke to him in Polish. When they were in middle school Stiles taught Scott some Polish so they could gossip and especially so Stiles could tell him how in love he was with Lydia. He's not sure Scott remembers a lot of the language but he hopes he understands enough of what he's saying. He scoots forward on the bench and reaches his hand up slowly so he doesn't freak any of the werewolves out and pats Scott on the arm. "We still need to talk about this, Stiles. You have to tell me what's wrong and what's going on with you. I know I'm...occupied with Allison but I will always have time for you, okay?" Whatever Scott understood from what he said was enough apparently to get the sentiment behind his words. He seems to have calmed down a bit, his eyes returning to their normal hue. 

"I know." Stiles says with a nod. "I know. How about we hang out tomorrow night after school?"

"Tomorrow night works for me. I'll see you at mine we can play video games and talk." 

"Promise?" Stiles asks because there's a part of him that's not certain Scott won't cancel on him to see Allison. 

"I promise." Scott says and starts to back away to go and sit with Allison. "Enjoy your umm lunch?" He says, gesturing to the table and the pack. 

"Cool. You too." He says as casually as he can watching as Scott walks away. He stares a little too long because Boyd clears his throat. 

"You okay?" Boyd asks his expression is almost completely blank but there's a twinge of sympathy in there somewhere. 

"Yeah, I'm just tired." He dismisses any of the packs concern, scrubbing tiredly at his face with his hands. It's not their problem and the last thing he wants is Derek's pack to find him incapable- useless. 

The pack must hear his lie in his heartbeat but decide not to push it any further. Isaac resumes his back rubbing like the kind, gentle guy he is. Stiles wants to sink down into his warmth but doesn't because he thinks it'll be totally weird and definitely piss Scott off. He's not sure when he started taking comfort in the pack and it makes him kind of feel like he's betraying Scott after all. "You and Derek have been working hard to figure out what's going on." Erica supplies like it justifies hurting his best friend. 

"Yeah, you're just trying to help everyone." Isaac agrees nodding along eagerly. It makes Stiles wonder if they can smell the guilt and anxiety rolling off of him. 

"I'm just..." Stiles sighs and drops his forehead on the table with a loud bang-"I'm doing the best I can." His voice breaks and he knows he sounds pitiful but he can't help it he's just really tired and feels like he's being pulled in so many directions he can't keep his feet on the ground. He's so busy with homework, lying to his dad, helping Derek and the pack, being the dutiful best friend, saving the town, and trying not to die that he can't keep up anymore. "I'm fine." He says again after clearing his throat, trying his hardest to keep his heart from betraying him. 

"Stiles if you need help-" Boyd starts but gets interrupted by Erica. 

"We know you've got this, Stiles. We believe in you, okay? So don't stress about us. We've got your back, Stilinski, whatever you need." She says sounding determined and sure of herself. 

He lifts his head and nods at her in acknowledgement before putting his head back down to rest the remaining 15 minutes of lunch. 

Stiles goes through the rest of the school day without incident and sluggishly made his way to the grocery store. He goes home and unloads the groceries and gets started on making a Bigos for dinner, he bought enough to cook for two humans and a werewolf.

His dad is home probably doing work in this office or trying to rest since he worked the night shift last night. Stiles makes a bowl for his father and brings it upstairs to him. His dad's asleep in his bed so he leaves it on the bedside table to eat when he wants it. He'll probably wake up soon anyway. 

Stiles sits at the table and eats his dinner alone. When he's finished he does the dishes and trudges upstairs to take a much needed shower. It's scolding hot and feels so good on his very tensed up shoulders. His skin is bright red and the steam follows him out into his room where he pulls on sweatpants and a hoodie. 

He does his homework while he waits for Derek. He finishes it all before the older man shows up and there's a tinge of disappointment in him when the clock reads 2:00AM and he's still not there. Out of boredom he sits on his bed and reads a book The Song of Achilles while listening in for the police radio. Nothing happens on the radio other than normal traffic stops and completely boring calls so he falls asleep to the static with the book on his chest. 

He wakes up to his alarm and for some reason he doesn't feel the need to hit snooze. He has goosebumps on his body and a bad feeling when he sits up and listens to the radio. "skkkk" It's all static at first. "McPherson says the body belongs to Diane Clemmons's kid. Roger Clemmons." Officer Neal says, referring to officer McPherson both of whom Stiles knows. He leans in to listen closely to the radio set up on his nightstand. 

"Have they ruled out cause of death?" Officer Jody Harps asks, probably from the station. 

"Coroner says it looks like asphyxiation but we can't be sure until the autopsy." He responds. 

"Alright. Meet me at the station by 8 we've got work to do. Over." 

Stiles blindly reaches underneath his blanket in search of his phone. As soon as he finds it he calls Derek. The phone rings three times before he picks up. "Stiles-"

"Derek, hey! Good morning! Well not good morning there was another body found last night or this morning I'm not sure. His name is- was Roger Clemmons he went to school with me. I just saw him yesterday and he had this total wig out and stormed out of school. They think asphyxiation was cause of death but it's unconfirmed until the medical examiner gets on it.  Anyway, I've got to get to class so can you check the graveyard for any graves with the last name Clemmons? I have a theory but I'm running late and I've got to get ready." 

"Yeah." Derek says gruffly. "I'll check the cemetery. I'm sure this has to do with the other deaths but find out about his friends at school and see if anything was going on at home just in case."

"You got it, boss!" 

"We'll meet up later to share what we find." He says in that demanding alpha kind of way that leaves no room for argument. Which is weird because there's no way Stiles would argue against being a cool sneaky detective with Derek. He likes it far too much to give it up. 

"Can't wait." He says, smile evident in his voice. "I'll text you later, bye!" He says cheerfully. 

"Bye." Derek says sounding annoyed and bored like always and hangs up. 

Stiles takes his meds and gets ready for school. He feels good. He's slept up to four hours last night and he's roaring and ready to go. He's in total hyperactive, low impulse, sexy detective mode and he's ready to blow this case wide open. There's a light ringing in his ears that comes and goes occasionally but he chalks it up to normal tinnitus and does his best to ignore. 

When he gets to school everything seems totally normal and he's certain no one's heard about Roger Clemmons's death. The kid didn't have many friends but the two he did have were totally nice normal girls

The ringing in his ears gets louder and he thinks he's going crazy because it doesn't seem like ringing in his ears at all it sounds like bells. He lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes it's probably coming from the music room down the hall. 

When the school day is over he gets into his jeep and turns the radio on but turns it off quickly as the sound of church bells blast through the stereos. Man what the fuck was going on? 

It isn't until he's alone in his bedroom looking at his notes on the case that it clicks. "The bells! It sounds like church bells. You don't hear that?"  He remembers the words Roger had spoken to him the day before or of his death. 

He looks down at the notes of the graves and the causes of deaths he'd written under them based on the obituaries he was able to uncover. Fall, car accident, drowning, Spanish flu, tuberculosis, chocking, hell even a factory accident from 1947, and lastly three different suicides from a span of 150 years. All of these deaths were accidents or sudden. There must be a connection with that. None of these people were murdered. He types into his search from the disturbed graves of accidental and suicidal deaths and the sound of bells. It takes a couple searches but he finds an urban legend for a beast called Nachzehrer. Apparently it's a vampire like creature born from sudden deaths, illness, suicide, or accidents. They cannot turn someone by biting or scratching them. They awake from their graves to suck the soul of a family member (no matter how distant) only to fall back in it's grave to eat itself. Those who hear the church bells are their next victims-

"Fuck!" Stiles hisses. He prints the webpage out and leaves it on his desk. The best thing he could do right now was go to Scott's and wait for Derek. Scott's house is the closest and by far the safest. He runs downstairs into the jeep and tries to start the car but the engine won't turn over. "Fuck!" He yells again, beating the steering wheel with his fist. The fear coursing through him doesn't allow him to think straight but he thinks he still has time because the bells aren't driving him crazy yet. He gets his phone out to text Derek. 

  I can hear the bells!

He hits send because his fingers are shaking and it's all he can get out right now. Stiles looks up and sees a shadow like person standing across the street staring at him. He clumsily gets out of the car and breaks out into a run to Scott's house. Of course he doesn't get very far before the shadow figure goes full on dementor on his ass and opens it's mouth to suck the oxygen from his lungs. Not all of it but it's enough to get him seeing black spots. Beyond the spots he sees a face in the shadow and nearly sighs in relief when he sees the face of his mother looking back at him. The black spots get bigger until they explode into a blinding white light and eventually into nothing at all. 

Chapter Text

Derek is sitting on Stiles bed by the time Scott shows up. He hears him and smells him before he sees him. The younger boy had used his spare set of keys to open the front door and storm up the stairs. Derek had expected Stiles to be with him and is confused by the sound of one erratic heartbeat not two. He's even more confused when Scott starts yelling, reeking of anger. "What the hell Stiles? You were supposed to come over three hours ago! I swear to God if you're up there sucking face with Derek I will-" Scott's voice catches in his throat as he spots Derek sat on Stiles bed alone. "Where's Stiles?" He asks dumbly. 

"I thought he was with you." Derek says, trying to keep a blank face. He's got that sinking feeling he gets every time something doesn't feel right and he can't place how he knows he just does. Years of experience of bad things happening would do that he supposes. 

"No. I thought he was with you. His jeeps here." Scott says, eyebrows pulling together as his brain tries to form a reason for Stiles to leave the house without his beloved car. Derek had seen it the moment he'd walked up to the house, his Camaro parked down the street out of sight in case the Sheriff came home.  "What are you doing here?" He finally asks. 

"Stiles and I are working on something." He says, trying to gauge Scott's reaction to see if he had even figured out people were going missing or more importantly if Stiles had bothered to tell him. 

"Working on something?" Scott repeats sounding very suspicious and Derek is even more confused as to why Scott presumed he and Stiles would be up here 'sucking faces.' "What are you 'working on'?" 

"There's been what appears to be some unusual grave robbings and some murders. Stiles and I were working the case." He keeps his face as neutral as possible but he's had a bad feeling for the past couple of hours, out of nowhere some level of fear and anxiety bloomed throughout his chest. With Stiles not showing up to Scott's the fear and worry is only intensified. Stiles may be a lot of things but he's fucking reliable. Every time the damn kid says he's going to show up he shows up, even when he's not supposed to for his own safety. "Do you know what this means?" He asks holding his phone up to show the text he got from Stiles. 

I can hear the bells!

Just as Scott is squinting at the phone another text comes through. 

Stiles wakes up cold and in the dark. His head is pounding and he immediately feels woozy from trying to lift it up. He rolls from his side where he'd kind of curled up and onto his back. His shoulders and arms immediately hit the walls of wherever he is. He tries to maneuver his hands up and he hits the surface in a matter of seconds. As he begins to feel a panic attack coming on he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself and takes in the smell of dirt and stale chemicals. He kicks his legs out and lets himself slip further down off the dirty and most likely moldy pillow to see how far his legs can go before he hits the end. It's about 7' he thinks based on his own height of 5'10". 

And holy shit he's been buried alive. In a fucking coffin! 

He comes to the conclusion quickly and panic fills his lungs. He begins to push and pound on the coffin walls above him. He opens his mouth to scream for help but his throat is raw and his mouth dry from whatever it was that attacked him. That sucked part of his soul out of him! 

Okay. Okay. Okay. This is fine. I'm fine. Think! Think! Think! 

He slips his hand down to his front pocket and pulls his cellphone out of his jeans. He literally has almost no batter and very little service. Immediately he goes to call Derek but the call doesn't go through, doesn't even ring. 

He's got maybe thirty seconds left of batter to send a text, which he knows because he always lets his phone die when he's too lazy to charge it. He's not even sure what the fuck to say to get them to figure out where he is, the situation at hand, what attacked him. There's no way to fit it all in. In a panic he types out the most stupid and cryptic text he's ever sent in his miserable and most likely short life. There's no way Derek's gonna know what the fuck that means and it's too late to send anything else because the small light from his phone cuts out as the battery dies. Once again he's lost in the darkness unable to call for help. It's getting out of hand how used to this he's beginning to feel. 

I AM APOLLO 13

"He just sent another one!" Scott says almost excitedly. Immediately Derek pulls the phone back and starts to read the text, his mind working into overtime. "Apollo 13? Like the spaceship?" Scott asks and Derek really wishes Stiles were here to say something along the lines of 'well it's a good thing you're pretty.' 

"Obviously." Derek barks out because yeah it's a good thing Scott's pretty. 

"Well what the hell does it mean?" Scott says with an eyeroll, not affected by Derek's harsh tone. 

Derek's too busy trying to remember everything he's ever heard about Apollo 13. "Apollo 13 was supposed to be the third ship to touch down on the moon but there was an oxygen tank explosion and the mission quickly changed from landing on the moon to getting the astronauts back to earth alive. It was easily the most impressive survival mission to take place in space." His thoughts were all over the place trying to connect as many dots as possible. Why was this the text Stiles sent? He could literally curse the younger boy for being way too smart and cryptic for his own good because there's no way he or Scott were as smart as him. There's no way he could ever think like Stiles. There's no way he could ever being to fathom what his Adderall ridden brain came up with, right?  He feels anger and frustration welling up in him because he's too stupid to figure it out and too stupid to save Stiles. He starts to spiral in his own head about being a bad alpha and not being able to protect one tiny human let alone his whole pack when...Oh. 

The moment Derek connected the dots must have shown on his face because Scott's face screwed into a mix of horror and worry. "What? What is it?" He asked. 

"The missions changed." He said, voice low and serious. His eyes flashed alpha red as he practically launched himself to Stiles desk. He opened the desk draw and started pulling out all of the notes the younger boy had taken on the murders. He threw a bestiary at Scott. "Look for something that has to do with bells!" He demanded using his alpha voice that left no room for argument. 

Scott nodded jerkily and opened the book, fumbling with the pages because his hands were shaking. Derek's emotions were rolling onto him in waves and he could smell how scared he was for Stiles. It only amplified his own anxiety. "This is all in Latin!" Scott said nearly throwing the book to the ground in frustration. He stopped himself, trying to regain control as he flipped through the pages anyway unable to make heads or tails of anything. "Since when does Stiles understand Latin?" He grumbled under his breath. 

Derek was throwing the pages he didn't need out of his way in an embarrassingly frantic way. Nothing was making any sense. There wasn't anything here that told him what the creature was and yet somehow Stiles had figured it out and got himself caught by it. If he wasn't so pissed he'd be proud about how smart the idiot was. 

He ran his finger over the track pad of Stiles laptop and put in the ridiculously long password. pawsoffsourwolf 

He couldn't help the almost fond eyeroll he gave. It wasn't his fault the moron got under his skin and became tolerable. The first thing he saw was an article for a creature as the last search Stiles made. 

Nachzehrer

The Nachzehrer is a creature that originated in German folklore. Nach meaning after and zehren meaning living off.  It is described as a vampire like creature but is in fact of it's own species. The Nachzehrer condition is not communicable like the tales of vampires but instead can only be created after an accidental and or sudden death or suicide. When one Nachzehrer rises it can create a catalyst within the cemetery causing others to arise. The Nachzehrer will awake from death to devour the soul of those of it's own flesh and blood before returning to it's grave to eat itself. If one hears the sound of church bells and comes across a shadow it is certain they are the Nachzehrer's next victim. The Nachzehrer will feast upon the soul of at least one relative, turning their body blue of asphyxia. The only way to stop a Nachzehrer is to place a coin in the creatures mouth and cut off it's head. Though the Nachzehrer will only eat the soul of it's relatives it will eat the flesh of anyone that dares attack it. Once the Nachzehrer is caught and killed correctly the disease of the beast will be released and no other Nachzehrer's should rise within the cemetery for at least a thousand years. 

"It says here the creature we are looking for is a Nachzehrer. It's a creature born of accidental sudden death or suicide that awakens to eat the soul of it's relatives." He explains turning around to look at Scott who's paled an astonishing amount. 

"Suicide?" Scott essentially squeaks out. 

"Yes, suicide." He nods, narrowing his eyes to look at Scott suspiciously. 

"Then um...then what?" He asks looking as if he doesn't want to hear the rest. 

"The victim hears church bells-" He says holding up his cellphone as if it explains the texts from Stiles-"and the creature sucks the soul out of them." 

"Right." Scott says, turning away from Derek and bursting out of Stiles room to run down the stairs. 

Derek is hot on his trail because it's obvious from the texts and the information they found that this is the creature and it's taken Stiles. They have no idea how much time they have left and they can't be late. "C'mon." He says running ahead of Scott out the house and leading him to his Camaro. They both slide in the seats and Derek actually slams the door of his precious car shut in a hurry. "Suicide." Derek repeats from the conversation they'd just had as he speeds down the back roads to get toward the cemetery hitting 85 in a 55. 

"Yeah." Scott says beside him fiddling with his hands in his lap like a nervous child. He has this look of discomfort on his face like he'd rather die than share whatever he knows. 

"Is that-" Derek starts and stops himself. It's not his business and it's not Scott's information to share. He may be a douchebag on most days but he can respect this boundary. After all, he'd want them to do the same for him.  He contemplates asking Scott to text the rest of the pack but decides against it. They're all probably busy with it being Friday night. And maybe because a part of him wants to be the one to rescue Stiles, a thought he will shove down and do his hardest not to analyze. They make it to the local cemetery in 8 minutes when it should have taken closer to 20. He skids to a stop on the grass, tearing up some of the lawn with his tires. He doesn't care. He pops his trunk and rips his driver side door open. He goes to the back of the car and opens a chest. Inside the chest is various weapons and even mountain ash in a tightly sealed bag. He grabs the machete he stores for times like this and turns to hand it to Scott. Then pulls a shovel for himself. "I have to put a coin in it's mouth before you can cut it's head off." He explains upon the quizzical look he receives when Derek starts digging in his pocket and pulls out a quarter.

Finally, Derek goes to sprint to Stiles but he realizes he doesn't know what grave it is nor can he smell him from all the dirt and death. "It's this way." Scott says solemnly before breaking out into a run towards a grave. One he's clearly visited quite a few times.

Claudia Gajos Stilinski 

1972-2004

So, when tomorrow starts without me,
Don't think we're far apart,
For every time you think of me,
I'm right here, in your heart.

Derek takes a moment to read the headstone, stuttering to a stop. He feels as though his breath has been ripped from his lungs and his heart has been hit forcefully with a stake. He feels guilt that shouldn't be his and he can't help but wallow in it for a few seconds before sprinting into action. He and Scott immediately start digging up the loose soil, Scott with his claws and Derek with the shovel. It doesn't take long with werewolf strength and stamina. The pounding they hear against the coffin below encourages their efforts. 

Finally they're low enough that Derek takes a hold of the coffin door and rips it open, the remaining dirt flying off from the force. "Stiles!" He hears Scott scream through the rushing of his ear drums. Below them, six feet under Stiles is wrestling with the shadow figure. His mouth and the creatures are both wide as Stiles soul is being stolen from his body. His soul glows a warm orange color full of courage and compassion while his skin is turning blue, his lips a dark navy hue. His eyes are nothing but white orbs rolled into the back of his head.

Without thought or plan Derek shifts, his eyes glowing red and dangerous with his sharp fangs on display. He lunges forward grabbing the creature by the cloths on its back and throwing it out the grave onto the cemetery grounds. Without missing a beat he launches himself onto the Nachzehrer, the places where his claws connect shrivel up and turn into puffs of black clouds of ash but the creature remains strong and hungry. Up close when he looks into it's face he sees Stiles's eyes but they aren't Stiles's eyes. Not really because they belonged to his mother first. The guilt he feels swells up and it gives the Nachzehrer enough time to take a large bite from the top of his shoulder ripping skin and muscle with it. The pain feels blinding and surely would've have rendered him unconscious were he human. The creature claws his ribcage next leaving dark scratches that bleed as they wrestle one another on the ground. 

Derek ignores the pains and the attacks having to unshift in order to place the coin in the Nachzehrer's mouth. "Scott, now!" He calls, using one hand to pry the creatures jaw open and the other to drop the quarter inside. True to his word, Scott is there and ready with the machete. As soon as Derek forces the Nachzehrer's jaw closed he raises the blade and cuts the creatures head off in one swift swing. 

The creature screeches even as it's decapitated releasing Stiles's bright orange soul. The orb dances in the air, circles Derek once and presses up against his cheek. It feels as though lips have touched his skin, leaving behind a warm sensation that makes his skin flush red. The orb passes Scott but stops for a few seconds as if to say hello brother thank you for saving me before whooshing fast and dropping quickly into the grave, finding it's rightful place in Stiles. 

Derek crawls over to the edge of the grave just in time to watch the orb enter his body. Slowly, the orange colors seeks through his skin covering the ugly deathly blue, starting from his chest and blooming throughout the rest of his body until all the warmth is back. His eyes are closed throughout the process of the color returning to normal but when they finally open they are as wide as a doe caught in headlights. There is wonder, fear, adrenaline rushing through him just as wholly as regret, despair, and pain. 

His body arches up as the breath and relief of having his soul back fills him up, he leans his weight on his elbow looking up to see the night sky filled with stars above him- freedom. He sees freedom first and Derek second. 

"D-derek-" he stutters voice hoarse and nearly inaudible. Derek hears it though or at least sees the movement of his lips and is the most certain he's ever been in his life that someone is finally relieved to see him. 

"I'm here." He says, keeping his voice calm and low as to not startle him any further. He moves slowly, standing up and dropping down into the hole. Stiles is sat up now, leaning against the back of the coffin with his knees to his chest looking around trying to figure out what's happened. 

The moment it dawns on him that his mother....the Nachzehrer took him and buried him alive to steal his soul is written all over his face and body language. He seems to flatten in on himself, curling up looking small and fragile and so devastatingly human that anything Derek was going to say to calm him chokes in his throat. If there's anything Derek knows it's pain and mortality. If he could he would take it from Stiles and protect him from ever looking so frozen in self-condemnation again. But he can't. He knows that so he does what Laura did to him when he was 16 years old. He carefully crawls his way over to Stiles and moves his arms so one is under the younger boys legs and the other around his back. He lifts him up with ease until he's pressed securely to his chest. He doesn't make any promises and he doesn't lie to him. He just holds him tight and carries him out of the grave and into safety. 

"Scott call Boyd to get the pack down here so they can help with-" he looks down at the skeletal remains of Stiles's mother and the open grave not wanting to say it aloud while Stiles is in shock. 

"O-okay yeah sure." Scott says, shock evident in his own voice looking at Stiles like this is the end for him....that this incident is something he can't make it through. 

"C'mon." He tells Scott trying not to sound so gruff this time. 

"But-"

"They'll take care of it, Scott. They're pack." He says like that explains it all, maybe it does because Scott nods even though he's still hesitating. "Just call them." He assures, motioning with the hand around Stiles's back for him to follow them. "You can drive." He says, heading toward the Camaro. 

Scott puts the shovel and machete back in it's place in the trunk and slides into the front seat, the keys still in the ignition from Derek's haste. Derek places Stiles down in the backseat just long enough to shrug his trusty leather jacket off and placing it on Stiles like a shock blanket. He scoots in beside him and closes the door. He pulls Stiles back into him, as if the arms around him could shield him from the world. It's obvious Stiles is so shocked and disturbed that he's completely shut down. He doesn't seem to take in the world around them, doesn't even hear Scott's voice from his call to Boyd. He doesn't hear the familiar hum of the Camaro. He doesn't hear Derek whispering to him that he's safe and he's not alone anymore. His eyes are still wide, blinking occasionally but otherwise unseeing. He's lost in his head somewhere and Derek knows how dangerous a place that can be. Slowly he takes Stiles chin in his hand and tilts up so the other boy is forced to look him in the eyes. 

"Stiles. Stiles, can you hear me? Can you hear me, Stiles? We're taking you home now. I'm going to stay with you to make sure you're okay, alright? Stiles, can you hear me?" Stiles doesn't respond so Derek represses a sigh and tries again. "I know you're scared." He says sounding as sympathetic as he's ever been in his entire life. "I know you're scared and that's okay. I was scared too." He says quietly trying to empathize with him because he's read somewhere that it can help coax someone out of shock and because it's painfully true. He ignores Scott's gaze in the rearview mirror so he can press on without having to feel embarrassed. "Can you hear me, Stiles?" He asks and is nearly overjoyed when Stiles gives him a small nod of acknowledgment. "That's really good, Stiles. Really, really good." He encourages, smiling softly through the pain he feels because he was in shock too from seeing Stiles like this, and the pain from the large gap where the meat of his shoulder should be is finally registering. He lets out a small groan of pain before clearing his throat and smiling softly again. "You're doing really good, Stiles, but I need you to stay with me. I know you can do it so just stay with me please." His voice breaks at the end because he's not a robot. He has feelings and somehow he began to feel them towards this weird teenager who wormed his way into his life stubbornly and steadfastly. Derek wasn't prepared for a situation like this. He's never had to be the gentle compassionate one. He's the strong, fierce, angry protector. No one has ever had to seek him out for comfort since his younger siblings had died not even Laura and yet Stiles seems to be responding to his efforts to coax him out of shock. 

"O-okay." Stiles finally speaks, his voice raspy and breathy. "I'm o-okay." He assures just as he always does when he's the exact opposite of okay. 

Derek doesn't push it. "I know you are." Derek says accepting the lie with ease because he gets it. If there's anything he gets it's this. 

"Good." Stiles says clearing his throat and letting any rigidness leave his body in favor of slumping against Derek's warm and strong chest. By the time Scott parks the Camaro in front of the Stilinski house he's fast asleep. 

Derek carries him upstairs and lays him gently on his bed while Scott trudges behind him slowly. They both stand there and stare at Stiles for a few minutes as if he'll disappear again if they look away. When they finally turn to look at each other Derek puts his blank face on and Scott's is screwed in confusion. "Stiles was right." He says sounding equal parts amazed and shocked. 

"About what?" Derek asks because he genuinely doesn't know what Scott could be referring to because Stiles is right most of the time. 

"He said you would never hurt him. I didn't believe him." Scott says, tilting his head to the side like a puppy as he stares at Derek. "I do now." 

"Of course Stiles is-"

"Pack?" Scott asks this time without accusation. He doesn't know why Derek would want Stiles in his pack because up until now he didn't think they had that much to do with each other. Clearly he was wrong. 

"Something like that." Derek confesses because there's something about Stiles that feels different from Boyd, Erica, and even Isaac who was basically his son (as Stiles called him) at this point. 

"Someone has to stay with him at all times. Just for a little while." Scott says suddenly and urgently. 

"Once one Nachzehrer is killed no more will rise." Derek explains in case Scott didn't realize the threat is over. 

"Someone has to stay with him." Scott repeats his eyes flashing yellow to show how serious he is. Oh. Scott doesn't believe there's an external supernatural threat after all. Stiles is the threat...the threat to himself. 

"Okay. I'll stay with him tonight." Derek promises, not ready to leave him alone yet either and because he wasn't planning on going home anyway. At least not until Stiles woke up. Scott's eyes drift to Stiles on the bed, huddled under two different blankets and clutching Derek's jacket to his chest. "I won't leave him." He assures once again. 

"I know just...how often do you..." He pauses, his face scrunched up in a grimace like it's painful to get the words out. "Just make sure he's okay." Scott finally settles on clearly not sure it's the right time to bring up any of his other questions. 

"I swear." Derek says hoping Scott can tell how much he means it. "Take my car so the Sherriff doesn't see it." 

"Okay, I'll just...call me if you need me." He finishes giving Stiles's sleeping figure one last glance before slowly making his way down the stairs and out the house, locking up on his way out. 

Derek leaves the desk lamp on so that when Stiles wakes up it won't be in total darkness. He doesn't want him to wake confused about where he is and going into shock again. He settles himself on the bed beside Stiles with his back pressed against the headboard. He tries not think about how rough the lives of the teenagers in his pack have had. It makes him angry and hurt on their behalf but also remorseful that they've got him as their alpha considering he's the world's biggest fuck up. A better, stronger, smarter alpha would've figured out what the creature was and taken it out all on their own without having to rely on a human teenager for information and certainly without almost getting that same human teenager killed. 

He just wants to die he's so angry with himself. He's even angrier at Stiles for wanting to seek comfort in him despite the fact that he's the reason the teen almost died. Did the kid have no self preservation skills whatsoever or was he stupid enough to actually believe Derek knew what he was doing? 

He can't help but feel some of his anger dissolve as he looks down at Stiles face. There was a certain fondness he had for him. He wasn't fearless but he was fiercely courageous. He lacked supernatural strength but he could hold the weight of his friend's lives and happiness on his shoulders like it weighed nothing. He may be a smartass but he was kind and compassionate and always willing to lend a hand even when it meant stretching himself thin. Above all he was trustworthy and loyal proving it over and over until Derek was forced to accept it of him despite his horrible trust issues. 

It's not until the early hours of the morning that Stiles wakes up sucking in air like it's being taken from him. His body jerks violent from his dream. His eyes open wide blinking in the dim light of the room. His head is rested on something warm and firm and when he turns to look up he sees Derek with his back against the headboard staring at him calmly, strong and unrelenting like a knight guarding a princess's tower. "Hi." He says, his words more audible than before but still a bit hoarse. 

"Hi." Derek answers looking down at him with an open expression. He's not smiling nor frowning but it's not a blank look either. It's a face that can become mailable depending on Stiles's needs.

Stiles eyes flicker to the blood staining Derek's shoulder. "Are you-" he clears his throat-"okay?" 

"I'm fine." He responds, the corner of his lip twitching, in what Stiles would call a Derek smile, like he just shared a secret meant only for the two of them. "It's healing." He explained. 

Stiles opens his mouth to ask what happened but closes it shut tight almost as fast. He doesn't want to know. It's too much for him to know. 

Derek sensing his discomfort awkwardly raises a hand and places it on his back, patting him slow and comfortingly. "Go back to bed." Derek says instead of offering him lies to try and soothe him. 

Stiles stares up at Derek, practically bearing his throat for him as he soaks in the older man's face searching for something. He stares for a few minutes before finally finding it and nodding to himself. He settles his head back down on Derek's thigh instead of on the bed like he knows he should and closes his eyes. Derek continues to pat his back and he lets out a small hum of appreciation. He's perfectly content sleeping like this knowing his neck will hate him for it in the morning. But that's the morning and this is now and right now he's got a knight keeping him warm and guarding him while he sleeps. Now actually doesn't feel that bad anymore. 

Chapter Text

It took two weeks since the incident as he called it to be buried deep along with his other trauma. Two weeks, that's it. That's all he gave himself to get his mind right so he could act normal again around the pack. It took missing two pack meetings before he thought he could face Derek again. Normally when bad things happened Stiles took them in stride but this was different...this had involved his mother. He's not sure how much Scott told Derek or if he told the alpha anything at all about what happened to his mother but just the thought of him  possibly knowing that it was all Stiles' fault was enough for him to keep his distance. 

He was afraid to face the pack too in case they looked at him like the whole town did for years after his mother died. Full of pity and discomfort. He felt like Boyd and Isaac wouldn't push it but he couldn't be sure about Jackson, Lydia, Allison, and mostly Erica not bringing it up. 

He sat with Scott when he wasn't busy sitting with Allison and the library when he was. Sometimes, as if Danny could sense something was up he'd wave Stiles over because he was just that nice and thoughtful. Mostly he kept to himself letting his scars heal or more accurately hiding them so no one else could see the trauma he'd endured. Sometimes he had dreams about the incident but not all of them were from his perspective. Some of them were like he was someone else staring down at the grave and Stiles feeling emotions that weren't his to feel. It was odd but so was everything else in his life. The worst part when when the person the dream was meant for looked into the shadowy creatures eyes and found Stiles' own eyes looking back. He could feel the harsh emotions and the quick reeling from the shock. 

It wasn't until he dreamt of a the back of a girl's head, her long brown hair flowing in the cool night air did he begin to feel suspicious. Images of this girl and her long hair and calming voice filled his dreams. "I've never been one for goodbyes. So, till I see you there I'll be singing a traveling song to ease the ride."  The girl would sing/scream powerfully and full of life and spirit over her shoulder as she dashed through the trees with a laugh. Her hair still somehow covering the side of her face turned toward him. Stiles had seen that hair before, somehow, but he couldn't place where or when. It was a nagging sense of familiarity that somehow caused nausea to build up inside his stomach every time he saw her run through the same woods. 

Every night he saw the girl he felt soft, comforted, warm, at first and then guilt, hurt, and vengefulness, next. He did not know this girl to feel this way and yet he did. It made him wonder, if perhaps, somehow, these dreams did not belong to him. 

He didn't tell anyone about his dreams or the feelings he felt with them. Instead, he pushed on and smiled and babbled and played his part well once the two weeks were up. Which is why he agreed to go to Lydia's stupid party in the first place. It was the perfect place to prove to everyone that he was fine and they didn't need to ask him if he truly was anymore. 

Sure, Stiles was still a teenager and all teenagers liked to party but ever since his more frequent brushes with death he stopped seeing the point of it. He'd rather sit at home safe in his room with a book so he could arm himself with knowledge since he was just a puny human who didn't possess any super awesome supernatural abilities like everyone else he knows. But whatever he agreed to go so that was that. He was going to show up, have a good time, and act totally and completely normal. 

And he did. He totally nailed it. He had told his dad he was spending the nights at Scott's and drove them both to Lydia's. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson were already there. Lydia had surprised them all by having a cooler full of wolfsbane laced alcohol so the werewolves could actually let their furry butts loose- her words not his. Lydia, Stiles, and Allison had normal alcohol to drink. Stiles' didn't drink much being the Sheriff's son but he snuck some of his dad's whiskey a time or two when he knew his father was too drunk to notice. Lydia had handed him a red solo cup of something reeking of alcohol but tasting sweet like fruit. 

A couple more people showed up from school including Danny which was really nice because Stiles actually liked the guy. A couple turned into a handful and eventually half the school. It wasn't Lydia's fault that she was popular and when she had a party people flocked to it to feel popular too. 

The beginning of it had been awkward initially and then kind of fun. Stiles had let himself loose once he was a few cups of vodka in, he danced and sang with Lydia and Erica while Jackson rolled his eyes and Boyd tried to hide his smile. It had been nice when it was just the pack and a few others but as more people flooded into the house his heartbeat rose along with his anxiety but no one seemed to notice. The pack too drunk to care. His drunk mind wondered if he was safe? Anyone there could secretly be a supernatural creature that had it out for him or his friends or his dad. Every shadow and body brushed up against him made him jump. He didn't want to be this pathetic but he couldn't help it. The crowd was getting bigger and his lungs felt smaller and smaller, finding it impossible to expand like he needed them to. 

He took his drink and forced himself out the backdoor through the crowded kitchen. The cool air assaulted him through his red hoodie and felt calming against his clammy skin. With the door shut behind him the noise grew quiet and he could, after a few tries, finally breathe. He stepped down the porch and onto the concrete that surrounded the large pool. There were a few white fairy lights hanging up for decoration but the bright moon above him caught his attention. Just looking at it evened his breath and calmed his nerves. His hand moved to the phone in his pocket before he remembered his brain making the call. 

It rang three times like it always did. "Stiles?" The voice is rough but not groggy and full of sleep like it should be. "It's 2 in the morning why are you calling me?" There was a pause. "Is everything alright?" 

"Hey, Derek." He says as casually as he can, humming at the sound of the alphas voice. Maybe it's because he's drunk or the night air feels so good that he feels content just sitting alone on the phone with Derek instead of enjoying the party like all of his friends. "Everythin's fine now." He promises. 

"You sound...different." Derek says because of course he's not just a handsome face and body and hair and everything else that makes up the alpha. Of course he could pick up on the fact that Stiles was intoxicated just by hearing his voice. The bastard. 

"I am, I think. I feel different." He confesses, the soft bass of the music audible from where he sits staring up at the crescent moon. 

Derek makes a noise of indignation and probably annoyance because yes Stiles drunk dialed him. But so what if he did? It's not a crime to get drunk and want to hear the voice of the person who's actually been there for you lately! The person who saved you from your mother turned creature. 

"I don't know why I was so shocked." Stiles finally says, breaking the silence like he always does. "It wasn't the first time..." that she tried to kill me, goes unsaid. 

"I know. It never gets easier." Derek answers as if he understands. With all Derek has been through maybe he does. Maybe he's the only one who can understand. "I'm sorry." He says sounding mildly uncomfortable. 

"Hey, Derek, can I ask ya question?" His alcohol added mind doesn't give Derek the chance to answer. "Have you ever...d'you ever feel a pull sometimes? Like, a pull to somethin' you don't understand?" 

Derek laughs though it's not joyous. "I'm a werewolf, Stiles. We're creatures bound by the moon." 

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense I um..." He trails off forgetting his train of thought. "I'm glad you answered." He finally settles on. "I wanted to talk to you." Stiles gets up and starts to walk to the backdoor.

"You are talking to me." Derek says choosing not to get into the emotional aspects. 

"Hold on. I have to do somethin'. Can you hold on?" Stiles slurs, scared that once he enters the house Derek will hang up from the noise. 

"Yeah, I'll hold on." 

"Okay. You can't hang up. You promised!" Stiles demands, accusation already settling in his voice cause it would be just like the other man to hang up on him out of annoyance. 

"I won't." Derek assures. 

Stiles waits a few moments listening to Derek's breathing through the phone. "Okay." He says once he believes him. After taking a deep breath, he opens the door and walks through the crowded kitchen towards the front door. Isaac catches him when he's walking through the living room. 

"Stiles, hey!" He hears a familiar voice shout rather enthusiastically. "Where ya'goin'?" Isaac asks, slurring his words together. 

"Home." Stiles answers, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Isaac drops his wrist.

"Ya should stay. Party!" Isaac says doing an awkward shuffle while grinding his hips in a very embarrassing dance. The blonde boy laughs heartily when Stiles huffs in annoyance but smiles fondly. 

"Nah. M'good. You have fun!" 

"No, Stiles. Y're not good. Stay! You can't drive anyway." Stiles heart warms slightly from the way the blonde seems genuinely distressed by him leaving the party. He wraps an arm up and to the back of the other boy's neck, squeezing slightly and pulling him into a half hug. 

"S'okay. I'm walking. I'll be fine." He promises, his words having a serious double meaning because he doesn't want the werewolf to be worried about him when he should be having fun and pretending to be a normal teenager. Stiles felt too old, too awkward to pretend but that didn't mean Isaac should. "Make sure Scotty gest home safe, m'kay? I'm countin' on you." He says forcing a smile, so much for being fine after the two weeks was up. 

"I will." Isaac promises, smiling back obliviously. 

"Thanks I owe you one!" He promises, reaching up to Isaac and ruffling his hair affectionately. Isaac tilts his head down to give Stiles a better reach because he's a big fan of skinship and he's started to like getting it from Stiles. 

"Be safe." Isaac says sounding genuine for once. 

"You too." He says before holding his red solo cup out to the other boy. "Finish this, will ya? Stiles out!" He says handing the cup over and turning to leave out the front door. 

Once the door closes behind him and he's bounding down the steps and walking into the street he presses the phone up to his ear. He can hear the familiar hum of the Camaro through the speakers. He hums at the sound, appreciative for the familiarity of it while he looks out into the dark night alone. "M'back." He slurs wobbling a bit on his feet as the alcohol starts to kick in stronger than before. He drank a lot for being a lightweight and of course it decides to hit him when he leaves. 

"Stiles, where are you?" Derek asks, voice rough and tough and manly and warm and comforting and safe. 

"Lydia's. Well, leavin' Lyds." He answers honestly. 

"Stiles, are you drunk?" He asks sounding scandalized by the idea. 

"Mhmm." He answers too drunk to be embarrassed. He kicks a few rocks on the road and nearly trips a few times because of it. "There's a party." 

"Okay." Derek said like he's forcing the words out, trying to sound pleasant but failing. "Why did you leave the party then?" The Camaro makes a screeching sound like he's taking a curve way too fast, and Stiles looks up fearing a harpy or some other flying bird creature was around to kill him. He walks faster, his heart picking up in speed. 

"I told you. M'different. M'like you now." He says quietly, almost whispering like it's a secret he doesn't want anyone to know. Not even Derek. "They're not...they aren't like us yet." Stiles looks up and around again. "I don't want Scott to be." He says solemnly. "I have to...I have to protect him...you have to help me, 'kay? I can't...I can't do this without you." Stiles confesses because it's true. Somehow he began to trust Derek with his life and more importantly Scott's. He stopped telling Scott things when he started getting busy with Allison. He started telling Derek them instead. Every person he became suspicious about ever time he felt like someone was more than human. Every time he was afraid he sought the alpha out. Showing up at the loft for no obvious reason and wondering if Derek could tell if he was afraid or not. 

"I am." Derek says stiffly. "I am helping you." He sounds uncomfortable but in a way that means he's being sincere and he's not used to it. Stiles nods even though the older male can't see him. "Stay where you are. I'm almost there." 

"Okay." Stiles says because it's enough for him. He squats down feeling dizzy anyway and rest his head on his knees, holding the phone to his ear. "S'good. S'really good." He mumbles feeling sleepy. 

"I'm almost there." Derek repeats. 

Stiles lets the cool air whip around the back of his neck as he sits and hums the song Cara Mia by Jay & The Americans, a song his mother sang to him when he was just a boy. A song from before she got sick. He keeps humming to the phone pressed between his knees and his ear. He doesn't even look up as Derek's car screeches to a stop just past where we was sat on the side of the road. Derek must have smelled him and stopped before he could see him. 

He hears the car door and blearily looks up, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Derek?" He asks quietly as if he's not sure that it's really him and not some Derek shaped imposter. 

"Jesus Stiles what are you doing out here? It's like 45°."  As the figure gets closer he can smell leather, sandal wood, cinnamon, and forest. Yep, definitely Derek. 

"Derek." He breaths out sounding relieved, looking up at the older man and grinning lopsidedly. 

"C'mon." Derek huffs and bends down pulling Stiles up by his arm, holding onto him as he tilts to right him. Stiles leans forward, his face an inch away from the alpha's as he searches his face. Derek's face scrunch up in confusion and at the stench of alcohol. His eyebrow quirking up in question. 

"Wow." Stiles says sounding genuinely amazed, lifting one hand up to shakily stroke Derek's eyebrows. "I missed you." He says more to the older man's eyebrows than to him. "S'good you're here." He mumbles, letting himself fall forward, his cheek slamming into Derek's broad chest. The hand on his eyebrow slides down to rest above the alpha's heart. He pats his chest in a slow rhythm, just like Derek had done for him two weeks ago. He hopes it feels as good for the alpha as it had for him. 

Derek stands there stiff as a board for a few moments before sighing. "Let's get you home." He says wrapping an arm around Stiles and leading him to the passenger door of the Camaro. He sets Stiles up in the seat and even buckles him in while the younger boy sways slightly even as he's seated. 

"C'nt go home." Stiles whines in protest. 

"Why not?" Derek asks, trying to sound patient but failing. 

"Dad." Stiles says, tilting his head to lean on the window. "N' I got dreams. Bad ones." He says so quietly a human wouldn't hear, Derek of course did. 

He nods and starts the car, heading into the direction of the loft. Stiles continues humming the song from before. Slowly he stops humming and Derek takes the silence of him being asleep. When Stiles speaks again it makes Derek twitch in surprise. "The party...I got scared... an' you...you weren't there. Nes time...next time you sha' be there." He mumbles, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Okay." Derek says, pulling into the parking space by the loft. "Next time I'll be there." He promises. Getting out and moving to the other side of the car to get Stiles out, putting one arm around his neck and another around the younger boy's waist. He easily carries him upstairs and to his apartment, discarding him on the couch. He goes to the fridge and returns with a bottle of water that he holds out to Stiles who hungrily drinks half of it. "Why were you scared, Stiles?" 

"S'called...s'called ummm hyper...hypervigilance. That. I have that. Bad. S'drowning." He explains, leaning back on the couch. 

"I'm sorry." Derek says because he feels like it's his fault. After all it was his uncle that bit Scott and dragged Stiles into the world of the supernatural. 

"Nah, s'cool. Happens." He says with a flippant wave of his hand, patting Derek on the shoulder as his head lolls to the side. 

"It's not cool. Next time I'll be there." He promises just as Stiles falls asleep in a very awkward position that's definitely gonna make his neck hurt in the morning but would prevent him from choking on his own vomit as he lays there with Derek's jacket wrapped around his shoulder. Derek grabs a spare blanket and tucks Stiles in, content to let him sleep there. The calm expression on the boys face also makes him feel content. 

Finally, after feeling a bit creepy for staring too long he makes his way upstairs to his bedroom. He strips out his jeans and lays down in the bed. He listens to Stiles heart beating steady from downstairs and it calms the wolf in him, lulling him to sleep. The last thing he thinks about before drifting off completely is how Stiles feels more safe with him than when he's surrounded by the rest of the pack. That definitely did funny things to him. 

Chapter Text

He's laying in a small twin sized bed with the covers tucked neatly under his chin. The moonlight is shinning through the blinds illuminating his mother's face where she sits beside him, carding her nimble fingers through his hair, and IV attached to the top of her hand. Only he knows she's not his mom and this isn't his bed...and this isn't his dream. The woman has a gentle face and a soft smile, her eyes much like the boy who inherited them are sad. She's wearing a white hospital gown, with bags under her eyes. She's humming softly to him...well not him...Stiles probably. 

"You try your hardest to leave the past alone but crooked postures all you've ever known. It's the consequence of living in between the weight of family and the pull of gravity." There's a sad but tender smile on her face which annunciates the paleness of her skin, her flesh void of any blush. The longer he looks the closer to death she seems. Her hand trails from his hair down to cover his eyes, sheltering him from the way her body sags from exhaustion.

"Long before you were born there was light hidden deep in these young, unfamiliar eyes. A million choices, though little on their own, become the heirloom of the heaviness you've known." Her voice is whisper sweet, a tremble in her voice that radiates through her body as much as she struggles to hide it. Her voice though weak fills the room and through the darkness he can smell the bitter undertones of chemicals and alcohol from a hospital. Claudia Stilinski carries the scent.

"You pressed rewind, for the thousandth time when the tapes wore through." His eyes are closed under her hand covering them and he seems flashes of this woman getting sick, forgetting to pick him up from school, falling out of bed, medication, the long hospital stays, treatments that don't work, forgetting who he is, attacking him, blaming him, accusing him, losing function, swallowing an entire bottle of pills, her convulsing on the floor, the vomit oozing from her mouth, her eyes rolling into the back of her head before never coming back, the movement stops, the air in her lungs stop too, then her grave. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. My fault. My fault. My fault. "So you memorized those unscripted lines, desperate for some kind of clue: when the scale tipped, when you inherited a fight that you were born to lose." 

Suddenly the hand slides off his eyes and when he looks up he seems the brown eyes he'd never thought he'd see again. "It's not your fault. No, it's not your fault, I put this heavy heart in you." Her hand falls to his chest just above his heart and she pats him soothingly. "I put this heavy heart in you." Guilt flashes across her face, and the memories of her attacking him on the roof and shouting that he's trying to kill her resurface. Though they aren't his memories to feel. 

And then the sad smile is back on her face but there's a flicker of hope, of pride, of love in her expression too. "You remind me of who I could have been, had I been stronger and braver way back then. A million choices, though little on their own, became the heirloom of the heaviness we've known. You are so much more than your father's son. You are so much more than the wars you've won. You are so much more than your father's son. You are so much more than what I've become." And then like this has happened before, a skinny arm reaches forward and snatches the woman's wrist in a vice like grip. 

He feels himself...or not himself Stiles...He feels Stiles shake his head. "Don't." The voice is higher, squeakier than he knows but he could recognize it all the same. Claudia's smile falls as she takes hold of Stiles' thin wrist and tugs herself free. 

"I am sorry, my son, that this is the only heirloom I could give you." Her eyes drift low to his chest, where his heart sits, heavy with grief and guilt. "Though a heavy burden, it will be useful in the end. You are such a smart boy Stiles but don't forget to handle the matters of the heart. Without them you will never truly be happy." It feels like a warning though she says it gentle and airy. It's as if she knows he has already made choices neglecting his hearts wants and his body's needs. "Goodbye, Mischief." She presses a kiss to his forehead, he closes his eyes savoring the moment. "I love you." She whispers, her voice fading out until there's nothing left. She's gone, he knows without his eyes ever opening. 

Derek wakes with a start. He doesn't suck in air or thrash about wildly but his heart aches as much as his mind tells him he's just been comforted. It's not until he sits up and the tears fall down his neck, soaking his wife beater does he realize he's been crying. He looks down to find his hands trembling by his side. He should be freaking out about seeing something that was not meant to be seen by him but instead he feels so defeated. 

It hits him suddenly that if the dream truly was meant for Stiles that he must've had it to. He must've woken up the same time as him feeling overwhelmed with grief and guilt and pain and all the things Derek knows can drive a person mad. He's on his feet in seconds, throwing on his jacket and tugging jeans up his legs. He's down stairs, tugging his boots on and in his car in seconds driving straight to the Sherriff's house. He parks down the street like he always does and runs the rest of the way there. He climbs the house and is inside Stiles bedroom in mere moments, coming in through the familiar window. He could smell the sadness and salt of the boy's tears from outside but it feels amplified times ten from inside the bedroom. 

Stiles is curled up in a ball on his side, weeping while his body is wracked with sobs. His hands are covering his mouth, muffling his sounds probably in fear of waking his dad up. Even as he sits in tremendous pain he refuses to be a burden to anyone else. Derek's chest aches, a rush of fierce protectiveness shoots through his being. His wolf rushing over to the bed, collecting Stiles in his arms pulling his up and cradling him to his chest. His own body wraps around Stiles before he has the time to feel awkward or invasive. His shoves his face in the crook of Stiles neck, inhaling his scent and rubbing his cheek against the boy's speckled skin. He freezes and pulls back when the wolf inside him very loudly declares MINE. 

Stiles, looks up at him in surprise. His eyes wide and doe like filled with tears. There are streaks down his flushed cheeks and his lips are chapped and bleeding slightly from where he's bitten down on them. "What are you...." Stiles starts to say, his voice breaking and hoarse. 

Derek stares down at him and blinks a few times feeling as though he's woken up from a trance. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He says stiffly, looking out at the room as the awkwardness fills him up. 

"Oh. Okay." Stiles says as though that makes perfect sense. "Wait what?" He asks, his brain catching up to the situation. "How did you...?" 

"Well, if you're okay. I should get back. Isaac is waiting for me." Derek lies, but doesn't move Stiles off of him. He lets the boy pick the pace, slowly detangling himself from Derek on autopilot. Stiles feels like he's in shock wondering if Derek knew something was wrong or if he was planning on checking on him or if...if he saw the same dream Stiles did. 

Once Stiles is off of him, Derek backs up off the bed and stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. He's hesitating not sure if he should actually leave or not. "Go." Stiles says, gesturing to the window. "I'm okay." Derek can hear the lie in his heartbeat but the determination on Stiles tear stained face lets him know the other boy would like a bit of privacy. After all he's sitting in only a pair of loose fitting plaid boxers with his hair sticking up at odd angles. His cheeks are flushed bright red and his lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be okay." He insists when Derek doesn't leave. 

Derek nods stiffly and makes his way to the window. With one leg through he turns his gaze back to Stiles. "Call me...if you need me." He says with his face strained as if the words were difficult and painful to get out. He doesn't leave until Stiles nods, shutting the window behind him. 

He sits on the roof and listens into the house just in case Stiles changed his mind. He hears the rattle of a pill bottle and after another hour Stiles breathing evens out until he falls into a deep sleep. Derek doesn't leave until he hears the Sherriff moving about the house...he's content leaving Stiles in the care of his father. That doesn't mean that he doesn't worry the whole way home because he does no matter how hard he tries to squash these new feelings he has for this very loud and annoying human. A loud annoying human who's had a rough life and needs someone to protect him...it's not Derek's fault he was the only one around to do it last night...and all the other times before that. But it doesn't mean anything it's just instinct, he tells himself, pure wolf instinct to protect someone so close to his pack. Someone innocent like Stiles should always be protect regardless of pack status. Yeah, it definitely doesn't mean anything.                                                                                                                           

Chapter Text

The following Monday Stiles was once again called into Ms. Morrell's office. Scott, Lydia, and even Isaac who were in class with him at the time gave him a worrying look while he just shrugged and slunk out the classroom trying to keep his head down. He looks down at his dirty sneakers the whole way to her office. When he gets there the door is open invitingly and she's got a pleasant smile on her face. "Stiles, hi. How are you?" She asks, as he closes the door behind him. 

He shrugs and sits in the seat in front of her desk. "Fine, you?" 

"I'm fine as well, thank you. I've noticed you've been quiet in class lately and you haven't been eating with your friends at lunch. Did something happen?" As she talks his eye catch on the plate of mini chocolate chip cookies on the edge of her desk. 

"No. Nothing happened." He lies quickly on reflex and can't help but cringe at the realization. If there's anything he's turned into lately it's a liar. He can barely look his dad in the eye without having to lie to his face. He knows his father knows he's lying too which makes it even worse. 

"You don't have to tell me what happened Stiles but would you like to talk about your feelings lately?" She suggests in a way that strangely makes him consider it. 

"I was at a party the other day." He starts after a long pause of contemplation. "I got so scared for no reason. There were so many people there and it was like I was struggling just to breathe and no one...no one noticed, y'know. No one ever notices." He worries his lip between his teeth and shakes his head. "I think it's getting worse...the hypervigilance." He supplies helpfully. 

"How's the drowning, Stiles?" She asks softly, and he tugs nervously on the end of his plaid shirt. 

"It's fine. The same. Maybe worse." Stiles mumbles, somehow feeling ashamed of himself. Everyone around him, everyone he's ever cared about, has almost died. They're all under attack, all of them, but he's the only one that feels ready to throw in the towel and he knows it. It's like he's drowning and instead of keeping his mouth closed to keep on surviving he's left it open sucking in the water like it's air. He feels like he's going through hell and all his friends aside from Lydia are doing better with the pack around. Stiles can't even feel safe in his own house anymore, always afraid something is hiding in his closet or under his bed to take him away from his dad and his friends. He feels like a pathetic child scared of what lurks in the dark. The only time he's not afraid is when Derek comes over to do research with him. Even when Derek's eyes flash red and he slams him up against a wall he still feels safe. It's weird how that works and kind of frightening. He doesn't want to be emotionally dependent on someone who can barely stand him.  

"Does anything make it better? Anything make you feel safe?" Stiles stares at her with a blank expression wondering if she could tell how he felt about Derek or if she was capable of reading minds. He nods slowly though, not trusting his voice. She smiles that same pleasant smile. "Good. Hold on to that. Whatever or whoever-" she pauses giving him a pointed look-"hold onto them as tight as you can."

"But what if...what if Der- he doesn't want me to?" Stiles asks quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

"If he makes you feel safe and he makes you want to keep holding your breath just a little while longer you can't afford to lose him, Stiles. Whoever he is it seems like you need him just to keep surviving. And, Stiles, it's okay if right now all you do is keep on surviving. If that's all you can do than do it. I want you to know that no one is judging you and no one is shaming you. You need to do whatever it is that will keep you on this Earth until you can feel safe on your own again. Okay?" She asks tentatively, as if wanting him to promise to hold on a little longer. 

Stiles nods slowly, feeling his throat tighten and his eyes start to water. "Yeah, okay." He agrees. 

"Good. Now how are your panic attacks?" She asks and before he can answer there's a frantic knock at her door. "Excuse me just a moment." Ms. Morrell says getting up and answering the door. "Marie, hi. I'm with a student right now." She explains calmly before stepping out into the hallway to speak to the student, leaving the door cracked. 

Stiles does his best not to ease drop and turns his attention to the tiny plate with the tiny cookies. He thinks maybe it's a bad idea to take one but at the same time if she has them on her desk at the edge where the students sit they must be for the students. He takes two because he's greedy when it comes to food and shoves them in his mouth whole. Immediately he's hit with sugar and a floral taste. Huh, definitely not chocolate chip like he assumed. He leans in to look at the other cookies and notices that what he thought was chocolate chips was actually some kind of brown flower that had been mushed up and mixed in the flour and the insane amount of sugar. The cookies weren't awful necessarily just weird and the sugar inside gave him some kind of headrush, his cheeks flushing red without his permission. 

Too absorbed in the cookies he doesn't hear the conversation between the French teacher and the student until Ms. Morrell comes back into the room. "Stiles, I'm so sorry to cut this session short but I have an emergency appointment, are you gonna be okay if we reschedule?" 

Stiles looks behind her to the girl behind her, Marie with tears streaming down her face and a nervous shake of her hands. He quickly looks away not wanting to make her feel embarrassed or ashamed like he felt for having to see a counselor again. "Yeah, no problem. I'll see you later." He says grabbing his bag and rushing out before the girl can feel even worse about having to be seen by a student like that. 

He feels a bit dizzy but shakes it off as having high emotions from what they were just discussing. He's making his way from the counselors office to the lunch room because he's pretty sure the class he was just in should be done by now. Out of the corner of his eye he sees something brown skittering around the floor and whips his head around to take a look his forehead already beaded in sweat and his heart pounding in his chest. All that's there is the brown trashcan and he lets out a shuddering breath. God, he's even hallucinating shit now. He needs to calm the fuck down before someone notices. 

He takes a few deep breaths, shakes his head like he can remove the paranoia from his thoughts and heads to the cafeteria. He goes through the motions in the lunch line to get his food and looks around for Scott who is sitting all lovey dovey with Allison. No thanks. He turns on his heel and decides to sit with Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. He's nearly at the table when he trips, falling face first with his food pressing into his chest. He scrambles up, his face bright red in embarrassment when he hears people laughing at him. He looks down to see why he tripped and his fucking shoe laces are untied. He knows for a fact they were just double knotted. He'd been staring them down in Ms. Morrell's office. "Ahh fuck me!" He hisses angrily. 

"You wish." He hears Jackson sneer and he's so tired of his bullshit it's not even funny. Because he's a good person he cleans up as much of the food that's fallen on the floor as he can and puts the tray up without eating before storming out of the cafeteria. He heads to his locker and grabs his red hoodie and changes in the bathroom. He's got two more classes before lacrosse practices and he can go home. That's it. He can definitely do that. 

Stiles was wrong. He can't do it. His water bottle spilled in his backpack and ruined his economics textbook that Finstock practically demanded Stiles pay for it. Then in his next class he was called to the board and ended up hitting his hipbone on a desk and getting a gnarly bruise on his side. Which sits very nice next to all the other bruises he got from falling in the cafeteria earlier. 

Lacrosse was even worse. His clothes were somehow soaking wet from a burst pipe that only soaked his locker and he ended up freezing his ass off on the field. He gets hit more than he usually does but that's because his body is already sore and battered and clumsy from having such a shit day. He doesn't have the physical or emotional energy to dodge the hits. Maybe, part of him, lets himself get hit as a sick sort of punishment for wanting to kill himself and leave his friends behind because he's scared. 

Scott who is usually obsessed with Allison had leaned into his very personal space in the middle of practice and sniffed him. "Why do you smell so weird?" He had asked loud enough that half the team heard and laughed at him. Everything about this day sucked. 

The next morning he wakes up with a cold and a slight fever but decides to suck it up and go to school anyway because Tuesday couldn't be as bad as the day before, right? Also wrong. 

When Stiles gets to school his locker won't open because it's literally been super glued shut. He has to track down the janitor to help him pry it open which takes both of them since the janitor is a tiny but sweet older lady named Mrs. Milton. He's super late to class which sucks because when he gets there everyone is taking a test and his teacher makes him complete it with less than half the time the other students got. His pencil is completely out of lead and when he grabs a spare it is also completely out of lead. In fact, all of his pencils are. He groans and smacks his head on the table in anguish. Jackson takes pity on him and throws him a pencil from the back of the class. It hits him in the back of the head and he picks it up from the floor with another groan. 

He finishes the test with literally no time to spare and is thankful for his natural smarts because if he was anyone else (other than Lydia) he would've flunked for sure. 

When he walks to his next class a locker opens up out of nowhere and hits him on the side of his forehead, leaving a gash just above the tail of his eyebrow. It bleeds down the side of his face but he hustles to his second class anyway because there's a test in this class too and he's not going through the same thing twice, not if he can help it. Besides, it'll go along nicely with all of the other bruises and cuts on his body from his very, very unlucky week. 

He finishes the test early and once he takes it up to the teachers desk he takes his phone out of his pocket to text Derek to make sure the werewolf is still alive.  Considering he hasn't heard from him since the....incident over the weekend he's kind of worried. 

yo 

sourwolf r u still alive or wut? 

hello?

derek?

deeeeeeeerek???

txt me back

NOW!!!!!

He texts Derek multiple texts partly to annoy him and partly to get his attention and let him know Stiles actually would like to hear from him and isn't just bothering him to be annoying. He can't exactly explain it but ever since him and Derek started doing research together and pack meetings have been at the loft which is much cozier than the Hale house he feels weird when he doesn't see Derek. It's not like he feels like he's gonna die if he doesn't see the other man it's just that, well, he feels anxious and wired being apart for too long. He's never really felt it before not even when he was scared to leave his mother alone at the hospital in case she died without him there. 

His phone, which he could've sworn was on silent mode since he arrived to school goes off in a very loud annoying text tone. "Stilinski, detention!" His teacher scolds from across the room, barely sparing him a glance Stiles just sighs and nods in resignation and acceptance. Scott gives him a worried look and he just shrugs it off and dejectedly hands his phone over to the teacher upset he didn't get to at least read Derek's text first. "You'll get this back after detention." 

After class, Stiles heads to the lunch room. His shoes are tied, he double checked this time while standing in line. He gets his sorry excuse of a hamburger and fries and looks out at the tables. Scott and Allison are making googoo eyes at each other while Lydia and Jackson appear to be on good terms across from them. At another table he sees Erica pulling on Isaac's ear laughing loudly while the blonde boy huffs in annoyance and Boyd watches in silent amusement. Derek's pack it is. 

He slides into the seat beside Isaac and smiles pleasantly at him. "Hey, buddy, can you do me a favor?" He asks trying to pull the puppy dog face Scott always uses to get what he wants. It's definitely not as good as his best friends but hey a guy can try, right?

"Depends. What kind of favor?" Isaac asks, narrowing his eyes at him in suspicion. 

"Relax, dude. It's nothing serious. Can you just text Derek and tell him I got my phone taken away so I can't text him back before he gets mad at me for ignoring him, please?" 

All three of the pack members stare at him. Erica looks very smug, Boyd looks at him like he's trying to figure something out, and Isaac as always looks mildly annoyed but curious. "Fine." He agrees. "But only because if Derek found out I didn't he would kick my ass." Isaac pulls his phone out and quickly shoots Derek a text. 

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it." Stiles says sincerely, reaching out to ruffle Isaac's hair to show his affection in a way a werewolf would understand. Isaac preens under his touch though if asked would totally deny it. "Is anyone else having a super weird and fucked up week? It's like my ass is getting handed to me left and right. I don't want to sound paranoid but it's like someone's really out to get me." He says, half joking as he picks up his hamburger. 

"Yeah, you've had it pretty rough lately." Boyd agrees. 

"What happened to your head?" Isaac asks trying to hide his concern. 

"Dude I walked into a locker that like magically opened. It was weird." Stiles explains trying not to sound too paranoid. 

"Magically?" Boyd questions, his stoic face contorting slightly in suspicion. 

"No, not like magically. Probably. I don't know I wouldn't worry about it." Stiles moves the hamburger up to take a bite. 

"Now that you mention it you do smell kind of off, Batman." Erica pipes up, wrinkling her nose to get a good whiff of him. 

Once Stiles takes a bite and the burger is in his mouth and he starts chewing he realizes something is horribly wrong. He starts to gag from the wriggling sensation in his mouth and the rancid smell and taste. He spits the food out of his mouth and keeps spitting until he's sure all of it is out. The spitting turns into gagging from the worms he spit out. In lightening fast speed he rips the bun off the burger to find the patty rotted and covered in live maggots. He gags again almost throwing up on his lunch tray. His eyes water from the smell and in disgust. He looks up at the pack members helplessly before darting out of the cafeteria. He makes it just outside the double doors before he hurls in the large trashcan in the hallway. 

Isaac is beside him in an instant and starts to rub his back in an uncharacteristic display of trying to comfort someone. He throws up until there's nothing left in his stomach and he's just painfully gagging into the trashcan. "M'sorry. S'gross." He apologizes and Isaac brushes him off. 

"If I just bit into that I would be puking too." Isaac says trying to sound nonchalant but his voice waivers slightly.

Erica and Boyd rush through the doors just as Stiles slinks down against the wall, hugging his knees. "Here." Erica says showing a bottle of coke at him. He must look at it in suspicion and disgust because she sighs. "It's okay. I just bought it and opened it myself." She assures. He takes the bottle in shaking hands and she helps him lift it to his lips and take a few tentative sips. 

"I think Stiles is right. Someone is out to get him." Boyd says, his face hardened in anger. It didn't matter that Stiles was Scott's best friend the boy always reeked of Derek and Derek of him. That meant regardless of if the human knew it or not he was pack. If someone was messing with Stiles they were messing with all of the pack. That's what Derek had taught them. Every time something was after the human boy Derek whether he would admit it or not rushed to his rescue. That meant the pack had to too since it was the Alpha's wish. To be fair, every time the pack was in trouble Stiles would rush to their rescue as well. It didn't just have to be Derek who he clearly lusted after. Stiles had gone to each and every one of the pack members rescue numerous times without any supernatural abilities or healing powers. He would put himself in bodily harm for any of them and if someone was after him it was the werewolves duty to protect Stiles. 

"Out to get him?" Erica asks, looking up at Boyd like this could be some kind of exaggeration. "Just because he had some bad meat doesn't mean someone's out to get him." She argued, trying to defuse the situation and Stiles panic. 

"No one else in the whole cafeteria had bad meat." Isaac supplies, quick to suspicion like Boyd. 

"Yeah, but-" Stiles starts to argue, his voice hoarse from throwing up moments before. 

"It's more than that." Boyd says solemnly and Stiles can't help but start to hyperventilate feeling his anxiety and fear peak. 

"Why would...why would someone be out to get me?" He asks, trying to force his emotions down before the werewolves can smell them. By the very sympathetic look he's receiving from Isaac he doesn't think it's working. 

"I don't know." Boyd admits. "It's okay one of us will stay with you until we can get together to discuss it tonight." 

"Should I text Derek and ask him to set up a pack meeting?" Isaac asks, pulling his phone out right away. 

"Not tonight. I have detention and my dad gets off early." Stiles pipes up, his breathing starting to regulate. The idea of having werewolf bodyguards is very calming. 

"Stiles this is important if someone is out to get you-"

"Tomorrow then." Boyd says effectively cutting Erica off. 

"Yeah, tomorrow." He agrees trying to stand up before everyone else leaves the cafeteria to get back to class. "Thanks guys." Stiles says quietly but genuinely. 

"Don't sweat it. You're pack. We look out for each other." Erica says with a smile, putting her arm around his shoulder and playfully but protectively pulling him into her side. "Lets get you to class." She says, ruffling his hair this time. 

Erica stays with him for his third class where she calls their teacher stupid so she can spend detention with him too. Isaac is with him for his fourth and Boyd and Isaac stick closely to his side during lacrosse practice. Scott gives him a weird look and Stiles tells him that they're just being protective and he'll explain later. Erica practically growls at their teacher until she lets Erica sit beside Stiles for the duration of their detention. Stiles quietly does his reading for his history class and does his chemistry homework. He doesn't say anything when Erica starts to copy his. He feels hot and cold all over and his head is pounding from his cold but he presses on until it's time to leave. 

Erica walks him to his jeep and stares at him longer than necessary. "You don't look so hot." She grumbles, not wanting to sound worried when she clearly was. "You good to drive?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's been a long day and I think I'm getting a cold." He waves her off and gets into his jeep. He gets home without incident and his dad has already made dinner. They eat together but don't talk much since Stiles is so exhausted. 

His dad feels his head after the silence drags on too much. "That explains it." He says grabbing some cold and flu medicine from the cabinets and handing it to Stiles. "You've got a fever. You sure you're alright, kid?" 

"Yeah m'fine. Just got caught in the rain." He lies. He feels like shit. He's scared, he's anxious, he's depressed, he's apparently the unluckiest bastard in the world. He's exhausted to the bone. 

"And what about that?" His dad asks pointing to the cut on his forehead. 

"That's just from being clumsy ole' me." He explains, tiredly playing with his food instead of eating it. The thought of eating makes is stomach churn rebelliously from thinking about what was in his mouth earlier. 

"Why don't you get some rest? You look like you're gonna fall out any second." The Sherriff says, only half heartedly sounding amused. 

"But you rarely get off early." Stiles whines. 

"It's okay. Go get some sleep." His dad dismisses and grabs Stiles dishes to clean them for him. 

Stiles drags himself upstairs and collapses on his bed in his clothes. He pulls his phone out from his pocket and reads the texts from Derek before falling asleep. 

Of course I'm alive. What do you need?

There's a second text that came five minutes later which is weird because Derek never double texts unless it's a life or death emergency and even then he prefers to call. 

Is everything okay? 

He grins at the text and sleepily replies.

im okay :/ 

Immediately after he hits send and his head falls on his pillow he passes out. 

Chapter Text

When Stiles wakes up on Wednesday his body feels battered and sore. He knows he should've kept taking the cold and flu medicine his father had given him but he was shit at taking care of himself and forgot. When he stands up out of the bed he sways on his feet while his vision goes black. He doesn't fall so he counts it as a win and starts to lazily get ready. He washes his face and brushes his teeth and dresses in maroon pants and a dark long sleeve shirt. It takes effort and a beads of sweat lines his forehead. He feels like he's been hit by a dump truck that backed over him a second possibly even third time. He decides three Adderalls should even it out along with his antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication. 

He'd had horrible dreams about maggots crawling all over him and into his mouth and nose, it makes his skin crawl just thinking about it. He skips breakfast all together and just heads to school. He listens to the radio quietly and doesn't hum along or tap his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. He forces himself to pay attention to the road ahead because his head is pounding and his stomach is churning and he just feels very, very ill. He drives slower than he normally would because he's pretty sure he has a fever and definitely shouldn't be driving. 

He gets to the school parking lot without incident and makes his way up the steps to the front doors. Before he can get up the first step Scott burst through the doors and races down the steps to him. "Hey buddy!" He says was too excitedly and very suspiciously. He places his palm on Stile's chest near his shoulder as if he's purposely keeping him back. Stiles studies his best friends face before making a move. His face is scrunched up in pain and nervousness. There's a hint of anger in there too and Stiles is pretty sure Scott is trying to protect him from something. 

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you I'm not in love with Lydia anymore!" He complains, pushing Scott's arm off of him and making his way up the steps. "I don't care that she sucks face with Jackson. I really don't." 

"No, Stiles-" Scott starts again and reaches out for his arm. When Stiles doesn't turn toward him he tugs harder than necessary to really get his attention. "We need to go. You shouldn't...we've got to go, okay? Stiles you can't..." Scott fumbles for the words his nervousness and fear making Stiles anxious. "You can't be here right now. You need to go." Scott says sternly, looking at him with purpose that means he refuses to take no for an answer. 

Stiles stares at him dubiously for a few moments trying to process what's going on. Instead of feeling fear or anxiety he's quick to anger. Who the fuck was Scott to protect him now after everything he's been through this week? His friend didn't even notice when he ran out the lunchroom to puke his guts out. "Scott, you don't need to protect me." He grounds out because if anything he's always protected Scott. Even when they were little and the other kids made fun of Scott's crooked jaw and inability to keep up in gym class Stiles stuck by him and protected him. He always had and always would. Scott needed Stiles to protect him not the other way around. Stiles was doing just fine on his own. 

He angrily pushed past Scott and headed to the door. "Stiles, would you just fucking listen to me for once in your-" Stiles opened the door and Scott's words were drowned out by everyone looking at him and laughing or calling him a mentally ill freak and such a fucking spaz and a queer. What? 

He saw Jackson, of all people, pounding some kid's face into the floor for laughing and pointing at him. The jock looked up at him with such a helpless gaze that Stiles thought someone had died or something. Hell, maybe someone had. 

All over the floor, in people's hands, and taped to the lockers was a piece of paper. Stiles reached forward and grabbed one out of Greenberg's hand. His heart dropped and his pulse quickened in distress. 

Patient Name: Stilinski, Mieczyslaw 

Note: Prefers to be called Stiles

Patient DOB: 05/15/1995

Patient History: Stiles is a 17 year old high school student who presents with major depressive disorder with signs of atypical depression such as insomnia and a friend "Der" who he claims improves his mood. Stiles appears to be suffering from suicidal thoughts and ideations as well as thoughts of death in general. Stiles suffers from insomnia and other sleep disturbances likely brought on from nightmares from PTSD. He also appears to suffer from irritability, loss of appetite, unexplained weight loss, and feelings of emptiness and hopelessness. Stiles appears to have a panic disorder in which he suffers heart palpitations, chest pain, dizziness, and difficulty breathing. Stiles appears to suffer from post traumatic stress disorder due to an unspecified incident which was made worse and first discovered after the Matt Daehler incident. Stiles presents with ADHD with symptoms of trouble concentrating and restlessness. Stiles also suffers from chronic hypervigilance likely brought on by an onslaught of traumatic events which triggered his PTSD and escalated his anxiety disorder.  

Contents of Therapy: Stiles has admitted to feeling hopeless, overwhelmingly fearful, and suicidal. Stiles equates his feelings to voluntary apnea and the sensation of drowning. Stiles used drowning as a metaphor to taking his own life and admitted to feelings of wanting to give up and make the "agony" stop. We continued speaking through the metaphor and attempted cognitive thinking instead of thinking of giving up right away to make the pain stop to give it time to be "rescued." In Stiles case we are working on finding an appropriate treatment option and medication and will continue psychotherapy until further notice. When asked if Stiles had anything he thought was worth surviving for he stated a male friend of his who makes him feel safe and "better." Upon advisement Stiles has agreed to continue to see said friend in hopes of improving his mood until his suicidal thoughts lessen or dissipate completely with treatment. 

Mental Status: Stiles appears to be lucid though has a rumpled appearance and dark bags under his eyes. Stiles appears to be getting thinner and losing more weight since last session. Stiles, however, seems less forthcoming with his emotions and current situations choosing his words and phrases very carefully during our talk. Stiles denies actively trying to take his own life and denies having a plan made to take his own life. Though currently mentally unstable I believe Stiles won't be harmful to others nor himself at this time. Stiles is suffering greatly due to his mental illness and is focusing on surviving instead of living. 

Recommendations : Stiles will continue to take his medications as directed and has been advised to hold on tightly to his friend if that's what he feels will benefit him and allow him to keep on surviving. Stiles has also been advised to keep doing things that make him want to stay alive and to try and focus on those things and people instead of continuing to isolate himself. It is important that Stiles not be left alone as he is refusing to eat, sleep, or take care of himself. I have advised Stiles to try and engage in self care or start a routine to get him back on track to living.

Follow Up: Stiles will be called in next week for a follow up appointment in order to discuss his medication and the tasks he was given as "homework." I look forward to hearing positive updates on this patient. 

Stiles couldn't stop himself from reading the whole thing feeling horror take over his body. He felt frozen in place, paralyzed with fear like when his body had fallen against Derek’s in the Sheriff’s department. Except this time it wasn’t from a kanima and he couldn’t feel Derek’s warm and sturdy body under his. 

He stumbled back, the note crumbled up in his shaking fist. His face paled significantly and he felt as though he was going to pass the fuck out or throw up or both. 

“Wha...what umm....uh?” Stiles looked out at the crowd blinking in surprise at the looks on everyone’s faces. People were laughing at his shock. Scott looked horrified at what he was going to do. Lydia was taking careful steps toward him and he backed away some more not wanting to be touched or crowded. Jackson was picking up as many of the pieces of paper as he could off the lockers and ripping them out of other students hands. Jackson fucking Whittemore was trying to help him and felt bad for him. God, he felt like he was gonna be sick. Isaac and Erica were shoving people who were laughing roughly into walls or down to the floor snarling aggressively. Boyd was staring at him with actual emotion on his face for once...emotions that said he felt bad for him.

Stiles turned and nearly tripped on his own feet trying to make a quick escape. Scott reached out and grabbed him on instinct and Stiles waved him off. “No. Just..take care of that.” He whispered gesturing toward the school. “Please.” He said when Scott didn’t make a move to leave. “For me can you just...please.” He begged pathetically. Scott’s face hardened in determination and he nodded turning back to help gather the pieces of paper and intimidate anyone who said anything against his bestfriend. 

“Somebody needs to go after him!” Lydia yelled when Scott started to walk away. “It’s not safe he can’t be alone r-“

”Christ Lydia I’m not gonna fucking kill myself.” Stiles ground out and took off out the school and toward his jeep. He didn't even make it halfway there before it was too hard to breathe. He was shaking so much and felt so horrible and weak that he let himself collapse in the parking lot, hiding between two cars while he hyperventilated. He leaned against a tire and held his head in his hands as tears streamed down his face. He felt so embarrassed and so full of shame that he wanted to just lay down and die. Everyone knew now. They knew his secret. Worst of all his friends...his pack did. They knew he felt so pathetically afraid that he had thought about abandoning them in favor of his own needs. His pack knew that he wanted to give up and leave them to deal with the mess. God, why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't he just fucking breathe?

A warm weight was pressed against his shoulder and somehow without looking up he felt comforted by the familiar touch. He blearily looked up at the sturdy frame crouching down into his personal space. "Breathe with me, Stiles. In and out. Just breathe with me." 

So Stiles did. He started sucking in as much air as he could until he felt like he could slow down to deep even breaths. He looked into warm green hazel eyes and it broke something deep within his chest. His hyperventilating had slowed into even breathing which turned into harsh sobs mixed with forced laughter. "Derek." He breathed out, trying to gain his composure. "I'm not...I'm not crazy." He whispered, his voice breaking. 

"I know that, Stiles. I know you're not crazy." Derek replies quietly and sincerely. The werewolf struggles to find the right words to comfort Stiles. He's confused about what's going on. He had a horrible sense of dread wash over him not 10 minutes ago when he was at the grocery store and he high tailed it over to the high school. As soon as he got there he could smell the pack and feel their anxiety. But his wolf focused primarily on Stiles pounding heart. The wolf inside him whined and almost fought to the surface sensing distress in the teenager. "I've got you, okay? Let's go." Derek says reaching forward and taking ahold of Stiles arms and pulling him up to his feet.

Stiles nearly burst into tears again just from hearing those words. I've got you. They're so simple and common but to Stiles they are everything. It's like Stiles has been cast out to see and left to drown until Derek came along to toss him a life preserver saying I got you. A choked sound escapes his throat and he turns his body into Derek. Relief washes over him as he inhales Derek's scent he feels a gentle thrum of what he could best describe as electricity when his hands grip the older man's upper arms. It's like the electricity is flowing from somewhere within him and reaching out to Derek. Want. Need. Protect. Love. He feels these emotions flowing through and if he concentrates hard enough the words come to him and he can hear them in his mind. "Woah." He whispers in shock as he pulls his hands back and off of the other man. The electricity or the spark fizzles out when his hands leave his body and as they hover in the air above Derek's chest he feels lightheaded from the loss of contact. "Derek?" He questions, looking up at him with wide eyes. His whole body starts to tremble and somewhere in the back of his mind a part of him is begging to reach out to the older man and resume the connection he just made. He feels nauseous without it, his head pounding from want. He wants to ask if Derek can feel it too but he's suddenly exhausted from whatever he just did that he leans forward against his will and faints. His head hits Derek's chest with a soft thud and he hums in appreciation even though he's unconscious, his body pleased to have remade contact. 

Before he even opens his eyes he knows he's somewhere safe. He can feel the familiar texture of Derek's couch beneath his fingers and the cushions smell like the dark haired man and Isaac. He keeps his eyes closed, his breathing still even and decides to go back to sleep still exhausted. Before his mind can shut off he can hear voices in the kitchen that start to wake him up bit by bit. 

"What if you didn't find him? What if he ran off and killed himself because Scott let him go?" A female voice whisper yells harshly. 

"Stiles wouldn't do that!" A male voice argues back sounding slightly unsure. 

"How would you know? You haven't even been around!" A different female bites back. Erica...definitely Erica.

"I uh...I just know." The male, Scott, replies in defeat. 

"You guys need to grow up. All of us missed this." Boyd replies sounding stoic even from the couch. 

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have dragged him into everything. I knew he was...I knew and I didn't do anything." Derek sounds so tired and guilty it eats Stiles up inside. 

"You know what? It is your fault!" Scott agrees angrily. "What the hell have you been making him do? Stiles hasn't been sleeping at all lately, has he? He's too busy chasing after you to take care of himself." 

"Oh like you're any better." Lydia says immediately. "You didn't even notice all the horrible stuff happening to him this week did you?" 

"What horrible stuff?" Derek's gruff voice sounds shocked and angry that everyone was clearly keeping something important from him. 

"Lydia's right. Something has been out to get Stiles all week and you his supposed best friend didn't even notice!" Isaac pipes up. "Stiles has been pretending he's fine for months, man, but you can't fake it well enough after..." Isaac trails off like he doesn't want to say anything more and break some kind of loyalty he has towards Stiles. 

"What the hell has been after Stiles? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Derek roars, his alpha voice coming through. 

"We don't know. We were supposed to meet with you after school today to talk about it but then whoever it was pulled this bullshit." Erica explains through gritted teeth.

"We were watching him. He was never alone." Boyd says quickly as if he senses the alpha about to explode with anger. 

"Why didn't any of you tell me?" Scott yells instead. "If I had known I could've stopped them before they did this!" 

"You stopped making Stiles your business weeks ago. He's ours now!" Erica yelled back sounding fiercely protective of Stiles which very much so surprises him. 

"Oh so you think he's in your pack now because he sucks face with Derek? Get over yourself he's my brother. I've known him since we were 6. He's my pack!" Scott roars, sounding half shifted. 

"If he's apart of your pack why has he needed our protection?" Isaac bites out. 

"Just because he's keeping stuff from me doesn't mean he's not my family!" Scott argues. 

"Keeping stuff from you? Right because everything's about you. There were maggots in his fucking food!" Erica yells, her voice going uncharacteristically shrill as she steps forward getting ready to assert dominance over Scott if she has to. "The kid had a fucking panic attack and hasn't eaten anything since!" 

"He literally ran out of the lunch room to puke them up you were sitting not three tables away." Isaac points out to Scott with a shrug. This peeks Derek's interest and he turns on Scott with hot anger coursing through him. If Stiles was Scott's pack he should be attuned to sense anything wrong with the boy especially something as distressing as that. 

Jackson who had been leaning against the counter with his arms crossed pretending he didn't care finally spoke up. "Yeah McCall that's a lame excuse. Even I could tell something was up. Me and Lyds caught him running out to upchuck the maggots but figured the pack had it handled." 

"Maggots?" Derek asks with a hard edge to his voice. "Someone put maggots in his food and you didn't notice?" There's a low growl starting to emit from Derek and all of the wolves in the room sense something horrible about to happen. Whatever is going on it's making Derek lose control. The fact that Jackson of all people had noticed fuels his anger and makes the air in the room turn sour with rage. All the werewolves in the room can smell it and even Lydia looks off put by the atmosphere. 

"How was I supposed to know?" Scott asks pathetically because he knows he should've but it's too late now and he's so angry at them for trying to take his best friend away he can't think straight. 

"HE'S YOUR PACK. YOUR RESPONSIBILTY." Derek roars, his eyes flashing alpha red as he pokes a clawed finger at Scott's chest hard enough to push him back slightly. "If you won't take care of him I will." Derek warns sounding dangerous and more of a threat that Scott has ever seen him before. His teeth are long and sharp making him look near feral with heat and anger. He's so serious that Scott feels afraid for a moment that Derek will really try and take Stiles from him and somehow turn him against him. 

Scott shoves Derek back as hard as he could. The alpha stumbles back into the wall and lunges himself at Scott, furious. Erica and Isaac immediately start growling and yelling at Scott to back off while both men wrestle to the floor. Boyd grabs ahold of Derek's waist and tries to hoist him off of Scott who is clawing at Derek's back from underneath the alpha. 

"Guys stop fighting." Lydia says. "It doesn't matter who did what Stiles was going to kill himself and nobody noticed!" Lydia yells over all of them trying to get them to see what was important. 

Stiles scrambles off the couch angry as hell that they think it's any of their faults. Stiles is depressed. Stiles is mentally ill. He's been mentally ill for a long time now and has always felt at least a little suicidal. It almost felt offensive for them to take such a major issue of his and dwindle down to Derek not letting him sleep or Scott ignoring him for Allison. Sure those things didn't help but they weren't the reason he felt the occasional need to off himself. Stiles has been through hell and back the last few years it's no surprise he'd picked up some extra trauma and baggage on the way. But for Derek and Scott to get into a pissing contest over who owns him is too much. It's too much and he feels that electric spark feeling buzzing all around his body and inside him as he storms toward the kitchen. "STOP IT!" Stiles yells with all of his anger, and pain, and guilt because he does feel bad his friends had to read his deepest thoughts like that. All of the lightbulbs in the kitchen burst and the glass shatters to the floor while his words echo throughout the room. He feels the same electrical-like sensation from before and stumbles slightly partly from surprise and from feeling so drained from whatever he just did. His body slumps back, leaning heavily against the fridge as his vision goes in and out. 

Derek and Scott stop fighting immediately and stare over at Stiles frozen from his outburst. Derek's instincts take over and he scrambles off of Scott and to the fridge in seconds. His arms grip Stiles upper arms and he holds Stiles up while his body trembles from exhaustion and buzzes from what Derek knows now to be magic. As soon as his arms make contact with Stiles he feels what can only be described as a connection as if there's a invisible string linking Stiles to him. Fear. Guilt. Anger. Pain. Humiliation. Confusion. Exhaustion. Fear. Fear. Fear. Stiles head lolls back against the fridge so he can look up at Derek. His eyes are wide in shock and his lips are parted in surprise. "Derek?" He asks before his eyes roll to the back of his head and his body crumples in Derek's arms. Through the connection he could feel the relief upon being in Derek's arms thrumming through Stiles before he'd passed out. 

Derek stares down at Stiles extremely pale face for a few moments trying to process what the fuck just happened. It's a lot to take in and he feels a fierce surge of protectiveness take over. His wolf is staring down at this speckled boy and against his will is screaming MINE. 

Scott takes a few steps forward and Derek turns to growl at him, his eyes glowing red and his fangs elongated, sharp and dangerous. Scott stops where he is but doesn't make a move to back up. After all, Stiles is his best friend and he's not certain what Derek's intentions are. All he sees is a wolf who looks feral with rage. He's not gonna leave it up to chance what happens to Stiles. Before he can move any closer Boyd slowly and cautiously takes some steps toward Derek. He approaches cautiously as if Derek is an animal that he can spook rather than a dangerous alpha werewolf. 

He can tell that Derek feels protective and slightly confused. He smells possessive as he holds Stiles to his chest glaring up at Scott who in eyes failed to protect the boy. Boyd knows that Derek may not exactly be the best alpha but he would do anything to protect the members in his pack even from each other (not that Scott would admit to being in his pack). Slowly he raises his arm up and places it on Derek's shoulder, grounding him to reality. In this current reality Stiles is safe. No one here is going to hurt him. No one here is trying to take him away from Derek. "Derek." Boyd raises, voice low and in a way soothing. "No one is taking Stiles from you. We all want the same thing." Derek's second explains, and the red bleeds out of the alpha's eyes leaving the green hazel in it's wake. 

Derek nods his head as his fangs retract. He clears his throat and awkwardly looks around the room. His eyes find Scott and his face scrunches up in discomfort. "Sorry." He mutters uncomfortably. 

Scott nods his head in acceptance. "It's okay. Boyd's right. We all want the same thing." He says cautiously. 

"Exactly." He turns toward his pack. "Why don't you guys investigate the school and see if anyone suspicious is around or if you can smell anyone new? Definitely check out the counselors office and see if there's a sign of a break in." He orders before turning his attention to Lydia and Scott. "You guys should check his house. Lydia go through his things and see if he managed to piss anyone off. Scott see if you smell anyone or thing that's not supposed to be there."  

Scott looks like he wants to argue but Jackson claps him on the back like he would on the lacrosse field and gives him a look that says 'let it go.' Scott swallows down whatever he had to say and nods his assent. 

"What do you want me to do?" Jackson asks, surprising everyone that he actually wants to help for once. When even Derek turns to give him a look of surprise Jackson shrugs. "What? I'm not heartless. Stiles may be annoying but he doesn't deserve to have his dirty laundry aired out like that. No one does." He grumbles. 

"Okay. Jackson you're on strong arm duty. Anyone says a word about this you take care of it, got it?" Derek asks and Jackson nods his head in firm agreement. "Good. Now everyone out." He says pulling Stiles up into his arms bridal style and walking up the stairs of his loft to his bedroom. It is a clear act of dismissal and everyone left downstairs turns to make eye contact with one another in confusion.  

"Sooo Derek and Stiles, huh?" Jackson asks in his regular douchey way, giving a low whistle to show how impressed he is. "Didn't think the kid had it in 'em." 

Scott groans in disgust and gives Jackson a look that says 'I swear to god I will throttle you with all my might if you don't shut up.' Jackson presses his lips tightly together in an attempt to hide his laughter. "Let's just go." Scott says sounding fed up and tired. 

Lydia gives Scott a glare before turning to follow him out the front door to Stiles house. 

"Oh don't tell me you're siding with Derek?" Scott asks, sounding slightly discouraged under her sharp gaze. 

"I'm not on anyone's side but Stiles. We all fucked up." She says with a sigh, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "I just want what's best for him. Whatever that is. I know you do too." She says giving Scott a small smile. "I think Derek does too." She adds thoughtfully. "Whatever we want or think is irrelevant. We have to put Stiles first right now." Her glare returns for a moment more harsh than before. "I mean it, Scott. You're like a brother to him. He needs you right now. Allison doesn't." 

Scott sighs and looks down sheepishly. "You're right, Lydia. Let's go figure this out before it gets worse. It's the least we can do." 

"Oh, honey, I'm always right." She flips her hair back smugly and leads the way. She's confident now that she's involved they'll figure this out pretty quickly. It's a good thing she's always right.

The second time Stiles wakes up he feels warm, comforted, and safe. It's as if his hypervigilance has taken a back seat and he's finally able to just exist without fearing for his life or the lives of his friends. It's so nice he lets out a soft murmur of approval as he nuzzles into the pillow his face is resting on. He pulls the thin blanket up and and over his chin as he snuggles into the bed. He feels weightless in the best way possible. He feels that buzzing feeling again only he's not scared of it this time. It's like there's a gentle push of comfort telling him not to freak out, that everything's fine and he's safe. Whatever or whoever is sending the push is familiar to him in a vague sense. It's like he can feel someone else's being inside of his chest, nestled by his heart. It feels cozy, comfortable, and right whilst also feeling strong, powerful, sturdy, and protective. Somehow he knows it's not there to hurt him or take over his being but to nurture and provide for him. It feels good. Like really, really good. 

He hears a huff of breath and opens his eyes to see Derek sitting beside him with his back to the headboard. His arms are crossed and his lip is twitching in what Stiles recognizes as the Derek equivalent of a smile. 

"Uhh hey big guy. What's going on?" Stiles asks, lifting his head off the pillow to tilt it questioningly at the werewolf. Suddenly it dawns on him why he's there and it must show on his face because Derek cringes slightly. 

"The pack is taking care of it. Don't worry." Derek says quickly as if that could calm down Stiles nerves and stop his thoughts from running a mile a minute. 

"Ahh fuck, dude. Did you uh...did you...?" Stiles trails off nervously, trying to hide the shameful flush rising up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

"No. I didn't read it. Didn't even want to hear about it." Derek promises and Stiles is surprised by how fast he believes him. 

"Good. That's uh good." He sits up and rubs both his hands over his face to hide his shame. "I feel so humiliated." He whispers even though he knows Derek can hear him. 

"Stiles, no. There's nothing to be ashamed of." Derek says softly. "You didn't do anything wrong." He assures Stiles, placing a comforting and grounding hand on his shoulder. Stiles peeks out of his hands to stare at Derek through his fingers. 

"I didn't want anyone to find out..." Stiles mutters sounding completely devastated. 

"I already knew." Derek says even quieter than Stiles. The hands slide off of his face and he stares at Derek in shock. "I knew and I should've done something before. I was trying to respect your privacy and I shouldn't. Not at the cost of your life. I'm sorry." He sounds so genuine and slightly choked up that it makes Stiles want to crawl back under the covers and never come out. 

"Derek it's fine I-" Stiles starts to say, immediately going to reassure Derek even though he had no idea Derek knew before this mess, but he's cut off by the Alpha's phone ringing. 

"It's Boyd." He says turning his attention to his phone. His posture changes as well as the atmosphere in the room. "What is it?" He asks Boyd, gruffly. Stiles can't hear the man on the other end of the line but Derek stands up quickly and grabs his leather jacket. He looks like he's about to put it on while he listens to Boyd speak but looks over at Stiles with a long contemplative stare. He tosses the jacket on top of Stiles in a familiar almost playful way that Stiles feels relief that Derek isn't going to treat him any different. Stiles pulls the jacket off of his face and tugs his arms through the sleeves. He stands up a bit wobbly at first but he proudly rights himself without Derek's help. 

"We're on our way." Derek says before hanging up. "Boyd says Lydia found something and wants us to head toward the school." He explains, reaching into Stiles personal space and pulling the keys to the Camaro out of his own jacket pocket. Stiles face goes bright red as Derek's cheek nearly brushes his own. "Let's go." He instructs in that impatient domineering way he always uses on Stiles. He must be a masochist to feel so warm and happy to hear Derek speak to him like that. 

Derek drives them to the school. He lets Stiles listen to the radio to calm his nerves, something he usually wouldn't do. So maybe not everything is normal with Derek but it's close enough and Stiles will take it. When they get to the high school Lydia is standing on the steps with her arms crossed over her chest with a smug looking gracing her pretty face. 

Stiles and Derek bound up the steps to meet her and her expression falters while she takes in Stiles appearance trying to make sure he's okay...or as okay as he can be. "Boyd said you found something?" 

"Yeah, I went through Stiles' search history-" she paused shooting Stiles an apologetic look-"and noticed him looking up brown flowers and herbs and I figured he must have ingested some herbs he wasn't supposed to. The only places Stiles ever goes is home, school, the preserve, and the loft. Scott says he hasn't noticed any brown flowers at the preserve so we decided to head to the school. Apparently, Ms. Morrell has some brown flowers and herbs stashed away in a box in her office." Lydia explains and starts to head into the school. Both Stiles and Derek follow her, trying to make sense of what she's saying. "Sound familiar?" Lydia asks, sparing a look at Stiles who was starting to feel really stupid and sheepish. He nods his head, wanting to see where she was going with this before he incriminated himself any further. "Yeah well this is where it gets interesting-" Lydia says leading them into a classroom that has the rest of the pack inside and three small little brown creatures wearing tiny clothes, shoes, and hats-"they say you took something that belonged to them." 

Two of the little creatures seem to be seething with rage. Their tiny little bodies tremble from it. The smallest of the three seems to be well adjusted if not a little remorseful. "A-alpha Hale I give you my sincerest apology....we had no idea he belonged to you, sir." The third one says stepping forward and wringing her tiny hands nervously. She doesn't even come up to Stiles ankle and yet she boldly addressed Derek who if Stiles were being honest was a big bad wolf compared to these tiny little things. 

Derek looks down at the creatures and quickly schools his shock into a very intimidating glare. "What gave you the right to mess with a member of my pack?" He asks the creature without missing a beat. 

"He took what was owed to us!" One of the angry little creatures snarls, apparently so caught up in his rage he lost his ability to use common sense. He lunges forward and Derek merely taps the creature with the steel toe of his boot and it goes flying across the room. The creature hits the wall with a thud and slides to the floor. The creature groans and scrambles up to stand and cower behind the female creature. 

"I-it's not their fault, sir. Ms. Morrell is a good lady, sir. She leaves us treats in exchange for the work we do. Your umm..." The creature pauses her stumbling to look at Stiles and tries to assess who he is to Derek-"your mate he took our cookies from us, sir. He angered the Brownies and turned them into Boggarts, sir. It's not their fault you see." She explains, peering up at Derek with wide eyes, her large flat pointy ears are downcast in apology. 

Derek turns his glare from the creature to Stiles. "Goddamnit, Stiles. Did you steal cookies from the Brownies?" He asks, sounding very exasperated. 

"Apparently yes. Yes, I did." Stiles says looking at the creatures-the Brownies. "BUT! But I didn't know that the cookies were meant for them...I thought they were free cookies. Like free therapy cookies. Like 'thank you so much for telling me how badly you want to kill yourself here's a cookie' cookies." Stiles explains feeling justified in his reasoning. It had made sense at the time even though they were super tiny super weird cookies. 

"Stiles." Derek bemoans, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. He turns back to the female Brownie. "Yes, it does appear that Stiles has taken something that did not belong to him. On behalf of the Hale pack I would like to offer a formal apology-" Derek gives Stiles a I swear to God I will rip your throat out with my teeth look when he makes a noise of protest-"However, Stiles is a valued member of my pack and unfortunately I cannot allow harm like your boggarts have caused to come to a member of my pack." 

"Yes, Mr. Alpha Hale. Yes, sir, I understand. Had they know he was yours they never would've caused you trouble, sir." She promises adamantly nodding along. "I will take my Boggarts and go. I deeply apologize to you and your mate." The female Brownie says looking to Derek and bowing her head and then repeating the motion when she looks at Stiles. 

"Stiles!" Derek says harshly under his breath, poking Stiles hard in the arm. 

Stiles gives Derek a look and for a moment they have a full conversation...more like a fight with Stiles facial expressions and Derek's eyebrows. Stiles relents first and looks at the creature. He bows his head as well. "I'm sorry I ate your cookies. I didn't know they were for you." He explains, sounding like a petulant child whos mother made him say sorry for something he didn't exactly feel sorry for. 

"T-thank you Mr. Stiles, sir. We accept your apology and shall be on our way." The female Brownie says, she nudges the Boggarts harshly and they stop glaring at Stiles long enough to scamper away with her. As soon as the Brownie and her Boggart friends are out the door there's a brown mist that whirls around the creatures. When the dirt colored mist disappears so does the creatures. 

"Umm what the hell was that?" Jackson asks, nodding his head toward where the creatures had just been. 

"It appears your counselor Ms. Morrell was rewarding the Brownies that haunted the school. Brownies are usually household spirits but I suppose instead of haunting a home they were doing Morrell's chores. Typically, Brownies are benevolent creatures and will stay that way as long as they are rewarded hence the cookies. By taking the cookies that were the reward for the hard work they do Stiles angered the Brownies and turned them into Boggarts. Boggarts are much more difficult and dangerous. They tend to hold grudges and creatures of destruction and mischief."

Stiles who was momentarily in a trance perked up at hearing his name. "What?" Stiles asks, looking up at Derek to see why he was calling him by the nickname he hadn't heard in years. Derek raised an eyebrow in question. "You called my name..." Stiles says sounding as confused as Derek looked. 

"No, I said they are creatures of mischief." Derek explained.

"Oh...right." Stiles says, trying to shake the weird feelings he was experiencing out of his head. He hadn't heard the word mischief in years. His father avoided the word like the plague after his mother died and it didn't tend to come up in normal conversation. Leave it to Derek to unknowingly dredge up an old nickname like that. Scott comes up to him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder which Derek stares at with a constipated expression on his face. 

"So, you're telling me Stiles turned a benevolent creature into one that can hold a very dangerous grudge by eating it's cookies?" Lydia asks, trying to clarify what happened. 

"Basically, yeah." Derek says lamely, tearing his eyes of Scott's hand on Stiles to stare at Lydia who was shaking her head like a disgruntled parent. 

"Only you, Batman, only you." Erica says clasping a hand on Stiles other shoulder. 

Isaac is next to make physical contact with Stiles, standing in front of him and flicking his forehead. "You single handedly managed to wage war on tiny little creatures of destruction because you were hungry." He tsks at Stiles as if the other boy didn't fuck up majorly. This is why Stiles was so fond of Isaac. The kid was always pretending to be apathetic but in reality he totally had a soft spot for Stiles. Stiles loved people who had a soft spot for him. He really did. He grins up at Isaac even though he's had a really shitty week because the other boy had wanted him to laugh and he's happy to oblige. 

"Yeah, well lets see how long you can hold out from eating delicious smelling cookies that are right in front of you, dude." Stiles challenges, reaching a hand up and ruffling Isaac's hair. "You wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as I did." He says smugly. His eyes drift back to Derek like they always eventually did. The Alpha was staring at Stiles in subtle amazement and something very close to affection. Stiles blushed. "Alright, guys. I'm fine. I'm fine." He assures, rolling his shoulders back so the pack takes their hands off of him. "I got to go home. My dad probably found out I ditched school and is going to kill me unless I get my ass home as fast as possible." He steps out of the room and can feel everyone's eyes on him. "Guys, I'm fine really. I'll see you tomorrow." He promises and heads out before he can feel even more embarrassed about what happened. 

His jeep is still in the school's parking lot so he gets in and drives himself home. He gets halfway there when he realizes he should've asked Derek what a mate was. Lucky for Stiles his dad wasn't home yet so he eats dinner, relieved that he will no longer find maggots in his food and takes a shower before heading off to bed. He's so exhausted he doesn't even realized he used magic earlier that day. 

When Stiles gets to school the next day he fully expects to be made fun of and laughed at and judged harshly by his peers because it's high school and he's the freak of the week. To his shock no one is laughing at him or even talking about what happened the day before. He sits down at his first class and looks around wildly confused as to why no one is talking about what happened. His eyes catch on a familiar figure outside. Derek is standing out on the lacrosse field in just a grey Henley because yes Stiles took his leather jacket home and then decided to wear it to school in case any Boggarts were lingering and didn't realize he was Derek's (whatever that means). Derek just gives him a wicked grin and winks at him. Stiles knows immediately that Derek is the reason no one at school is talking about what happened...in fact none of them seem to be talking about yesterday at all. It's as if someone used magic and made them forget yesterday all together. Stiles stares at Derek in shock and looks down as his phone buzzes. He pulls it out and grins at the text from the alpha. 

Deaton owed me a favor. 

When Stiles looks up Derek is gone but the feeling of warmth and comfort rises in his chest and replaces all the anxiety he had about facing his classmates today. He doesn't know what this feeling is but he's pretty sure it has something to do with Derek. He also knows that he's not afraid of it and in a way kind of welcomes the feeling. It's like something in the back of his mind is telling him to seek out and nurture the feeling in his heart. He can hear his mother's words in his head 'don't forget to handle the matters of the heart. Without them you will never truly be happy.'  Perhaps this feeling deep in his chest was what she had meant all along. Maybe, the dream was, in a way, his mother giving him her blessing to pursue the places his heart was leading him. Right now, it felt like there were a bunch of bright flashing neon arrows pointing in the same direction urging him to chase after Derek Freakin' Hale. 

Chapter Text

Thanksgiving was a holiday that Stiles' father always worked. Being a lesser holiday and since he was the Sheriff he opted to let his deputies have time off to spend with their families while he went in to work. Stiles who spent the holiday with the McCall's when he was younger never seemed to mind. The year before he had spent it alone opting to grieve his mother in private instead of spending the day socializing. This year Stiles had been prepared. He had gone grocery shopping and even hit the Trader Joes for specialty ingredients on Tuesday and Wednesday. When Scott called and asked him if they could expect him Stiles said he had plans. Scott, assuming his dad had gotten off, had let it go quickly and said he was happy for him. 

Stiles woke up at 5 o'clock on Thursday morning and let himself in (broke in) Derek's loft with all of his groceries. By the time Derek came bounding down the stairs in just a pair of low hanging sweatpants and his eyes flashing red with his face furry from being half shifted Stiles had a pot of coffee brewed and was pouring the Alpha his own mug full. "What are you doing here?" The Alpha growled, accepting the coffee and shifting back into his human form. Derek took a big gulp of his coffee and sighed from contentment despite his angry facial expression. 

"Good morning to you too." Stiles said pretending to be offended, keeping his eyes off of the very gorgeous half naked man in front of him. "You said I could come over whenever I wanted." He grumbled under his breath and took a sip of his coffee. He hadn't even had his own cup yet because he had been too excited to surprise the sourwolf with his presence. 

Derek's face softened though he still looked slightly confused. "I know what I said. I meant it too. I just asked what you were doing here. I didn't say you couldn't stay." Derek replied sounding like a child tying to get out of trouble.  

"It's Thanksgiving." Stiles explained as if it were obvious. By look of confusion and surprise on Derek's face it wasn't and Stiles had to force himself to keep his eyes on the face of the man and not his very muscular abs or his delicious looking pecs. "Thanksgiving. Y'know the day of giving the thanks." Stiles deadpanned, taking his groceries out of their bags and organizing them throughout the kitchen as well as pulling out pots and pans. He really hoped his face wasn't as blushed as it felt. 

Derek sighed heavily in annoyance. "Yes, Stiles I know what Thanksgiving is. That still doesn't explain why you're here. In my house. At 5:30 in the morning." 

"Sure it does." Stiles grabbed the closet ingredient which was a head of cabbage and held it up proudly with a huge grin on his face. "I'm making you Thanksgiving dinner, duh!" 

Derek's eyebrows shot up and he took a half step back in surprise. "What?" He asked in disbelief.

"I. Am. Making. Thanksgiving. Dinner." Stiles repeated slowly, enunciating each word for dramatic effect. 

"Why? Why aren't you with your dad?" 

"Because my dad's working. He always working on Thanksgiving and Scott has his mom and you have nobody." He explains, much softer this time. "But that's not true anymore, is it? Because you have me now. So even if it's just this year we can celebrate together, okay?" Stiles stares at Derek with a reassuring smile. He wants Derek to know that he doesn't have to be alone anymore. He can let people in and he can be happy. He doesn't have to punish himself anymore. He needs to know that he can have nice things and he deserves people to care about him. 

The older werewolf stares at him for so long that Stiles can't help but squirm under his very intense gaze. "You wouldn't leave if I told you this was really unnecessary, would you?" 

Stiles face breaks out in a huge grin. "Not a chance, big guy." He says clasping a hand on Derek's bare shoulder and patting him twice. And woah those are some nice muscles. 

Derek sighs again but it sounds more resigned than annoyed. "Okay well...you know you don't have to do this right?" Stiles nods vigorously. "Okay...I'm just gonna go...take a shower." He says setting his mug down in confusion and fleeing from the kitchen before Stiles can hear his heart pounding. 

Stiles simply shrugs and pulls out the cutting board and places it on the counter. He grabs the vegetables and places them by the sink to wash before he starts cutting them up. Before he turns on the sink he grabs his phone and puts his playlist on shuffle. Immediately Sleeping With a Friend by Neon Trees starts to play. He shrugs and starts to wash the mushrooms while humming along. "I said ooh, ooh you got me in the mood, mood. I'm scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end, I said, ooh ooh we're in danger sleeping with a friend!" He sings the chorus as he works but stops abruptly when he hears a loud bang that sounds suspiciously like it came from the bathroom upstairs. Stiles knows it likely has nothing to do with him but he can't help the way his traitorous body flushes at the thought of Derek in the shower listening to the same song as him. A song about how dangerous it is to fall in love with your friend. How dangerous it is to sleep with them when it could just mess everything up. Not that there's a particular reason this song resonates with either of them of course. Certainly not. 

By the time Stiles is done cleaning and drying the vegetables the song changes and he can hear the soft strum of guitar stings of a Paramore song. He hums along at the beginning and he arranges everything and begins to slice the vegetables he needs. He makes quick work of it from practiced ease. "Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts and we've got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face. And I've always lived like this...keeping a comfortable distance. And up until now I have sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness." He sings along softly to the words keeping himself entertained. "Because none of it was ever worth the risk! Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception. You are the only exception. You are the only exception."

He continues to sing and work getting all the dishes prepared as fast as possible because he has to alternate them in the oven and also cook some of them on the stove top. He wants everything to be perfect when the others arrive. He wants Derek, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica to all see that just because they've been so lonely doesn't mean they are alone anymore. He also wants Lydia to feel welcome and a part of their friend group even if she was in a similar position of Stiles...being a non-werewolf and all. And Jackson...well he and Lyds were a package deal so (also maybe Stiles realized he's not that big of a dick after the Boggart Incident). 

He knows what it's like to feel so devastatingly alone. He knows how hard the holidays are. Hell, he and his father hardly celebrated Hanukkah anymore since his mother died. With her death came the Easter bunny's (which they only celebrated because Stiles found out about it at school and was determined to catch the bunny himself) and all other fun children's activities that happened around the holidays. Even his birthday was forgotten a time or two. Despite everything Stiles never blamed his dad. The Sheriff always did his best and Stiles knew it was difficult to survive without his mom he couldn't imagine how it felt to lose your soulmate and be left with a little boy to take care of alone. He didn't want Derek to feel like he had to single handily take care of the pack. Stiles may not be in the pack but he could always help Derek out. 

Stiles wasn't as dense and (sorry Scott I love you buddy!) or as selfish as Scott. He had quickly figured out that just because Derek was older than them didn't mean that he wasn't also scared and lost. As soon as Stiles found out that Derek had turned his three betas he knew it wasn't just a power grab. He could see his desperate need for family and security. He hoped Derek finally felt safe even though he still seemed so standoffish most of the time. 

If all Derek needed was a push to act like the pack was his family and not his soldiers then fine Stiles would push him as hard as he could towards happiness. Derek should be grateful someone as persistent as Stiles cares about his happiness. 

Derek came downstairs to find Stiles stirring two different pots on the stove while singing along to some song he didn't recognize. He could smell cabbage and beet strongly and did his best not to wrinkle his nose in displeasure. After all, Stiles was nice enough to come over and well care about him and how he spends his holiday. It was stupidly sweet and Derek wanted to kick his wolf for preening at how wonderful his ma- Stiles was. The kid was thoughtful to a fault and for some reason he felt butterflies in his stomach that were 10 times stronger than when he thought he was in love with Kate. 

"So," He started announcing his presence-"what can I do to help?" 

Stiles jumped back slightly in surprise and muttered something about Derek trying to give the only human a heart attack. He still turned towards Derek with a stupidly cute lopsided grin. "I thought you'd never ask." Derek hates himself for how much his heart stutters at the sight. 

When the pack walks in at 2:30 in the afternoon ready to have an early dinner they stop dead in their tracks at the sight of Stiles and more absurdly Derek doing a rendition of Leather and Lace with Stiles singing Stevie Nicks' part and Derek singing Don Henley's. Stiles is washing the dishes and Derek is drying them. Stiles of course is much sillier and enthusiastic than Derek who's simply singing along because he likes the song. It's one his parents used to sing to each other in the kitchen just like this. 

"Is love so fragile...and the heart so hollow shatter with words? Impossible to follow. You're saying I'm fragile... I try not to be. I search only for something I can't see. I have my own life... And I am stronger than you know but I carry this feeling when you walked into my house that you won't be walking out the door." Stiles had starting singing, playfully bumping his shoulder against Derek's. His warm eyes were alight with mischief and something much softer Derek couldn't place. He could tell instantly that Stiles wanted him to play along. 

"You in the moonlight with your sleepy eyes, could you ever love a man like me?" Stiles looked up at him so fast he looked like he could've given himself whiplash. He stared up at Derek stunned that the older man was singing and being so...playful back. "And you were right when I walked into your house I knew I'd never want to leave." Derek takes his own shoulder and swings it to the side to knock against Stiles with less force than the younger boy used. "Sometimes I'm a strong man, sometimes cold and scared and sometimes I cry... But that time I saw you. I knew with you to light my nights somehow I'd get by. First time I saw you I knew with you to light my nights somehow I would get by..." Derek's voice is quiet but deep and rumbly and it lights a fire in Stiles' lower belly that causes his neck to flush up to his ears.

Derek flashes Stiles a grin and they start to sing the next part together. "Lovers forever... Face to face...My city or mountains stay with me stay. I need you to love me. I need you today. Give to me your leather...take from me my lace..." Stiles bobs his head up and down while he too enthusiastically sings. 

"Holy shit!" Erica says causing Stiles to drop a mug in the sink that clatters but thankfully doesn't break. Beside him Derek tenses up apparently too caught up in Stiles and the song to have sensed the others enter. To be fair Stiles hadn't told him the others were coming. 

Stiles whips around like he's been caught in a truly heinous act even though he was totally only platonically singing with Derek y'know...platonically. In the doorway stands Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Lydia. Stiles cheeks heat up for the millionth time that day. 

"Oh cool...you guys are here." Isaac says, finally making his way out of his bedroom in his pajamas with his curls still unruly. And oh my god was he here the whole time?

"Have they been...?" Boyd asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

"All morning? Yeah." Isaac confirms, and raises a hand up to work through his messy hair. 

Jackson looks uninterested whilst Lydia and Erica look absolutely delighted by this news. 

"Not all morning." Derek mutters under his breath like a grumpy child and it shocks Stiles out of his stunned silence. 

"Oh!" He starts as if remembering himself. "Happy Thanksgiving you guys!" It's like his ADHD has flared up and he feels like he's buzzing with excitement. "Thank you guys so much for coming!" He says and grabs the tray of brownies from Boyd and uses his other hand to take a pie from Lydia. He sets the desserts in the oven to keep warm and begins bustling about to dish out plates. "Please, have a seat." He instructs gesturing toward the kitchen table Lydia had forced Derek to get. It has mismatched chairs and a table cloth with animated turkeys on it that Stiles got from the dollar store. There's a cinnamon and spice candle burning in the center. 

"Stiles this is great!" Lydia says warmly and appreciatively. "Do you need help with anything?" 

"No thank you, my beautiful ginger angel." Stiles says, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek. "Have a seat I'll take care of it." He pulls her seat out for her to settle into and they both ignore the way Jackson growls at him. 

"You're very kind, my brilliant other half." Had Stiles been paying attention he would've seen the scowl on Derek's face but he was too busy grinning at Lydia's alliance to piss Jackson off to notice. 

He turns away from the table while everyone sits down except Derek who hovers by the table looking uncomfortable and unsure of himself. Stiles picks up one of the pots and a ladle and heads to the table to pour the soup out into the bowls he's already set out. 

"Umm...what is this?" Isaac asks tentatively as he picks his spoon and picks up some of the brown liquid with pieces of mushroom and drops it back in the bowl. 

"It's Zupa Grzybowa." Stiles explains and sighs by the confused looks on the pack members faces. "Y'know mushroom soup." He says trying not to sound exasperated. He goes back and grabs the large bowl filled with Prażoki (mashed potatoes cooked with wheat flour and mushrooms) and dished everyone a serving on their plates. He grabs the Gołąbki (stuffed cabbage with ground beef and pork, onion, rice, garlic, salt and pepper for a filling with a tomato sauce and dollop of sour cream on top) and begins to plate that next. Then the Buraczki Zasmażane (beets fried in flour, sour cream, and horseradish). 

"None of this looks like Thanksgiving dinner, Stiles." Jackson remarks, glaring at the food on his plate like it personally insulted him. Derek hits him hard on the back of the head which makes the blonde glare up at Stiles instead of the food. 

"Yeah it does!" Stiles grabs a bowl of cranberry sauce and proudly places it on the table in front of him. "See?" He insists. "Derek, get the turkey." He instructs pointing at the seasoned and cooked turkey that's sat on the counter ready to be carved. 

Derek dutifully hops into action before he can even question why he's following orders from a human boy. While Derek carves the turkey and dishes it out on the pack's plates along with gravy and stuffing Stiles plates some green bean and sweet potato casserole. When he brought the ingredients home from his first shopping trip his father reminded him to make sure he cooked traditional American dishes as well. 

He had been so damn excited to share his first holiday with Derek and the pack (mostly Derek) that he had pulled out his mother's cookbook and had immediately wanted to share that with the older man. To Stiles these recipes were family...something both he and Derek craved and mourned. He wanted to share this aspect of himself. Looking out at the pack now though he felt kind of nervous. He could see them wrinkling their noses slightly and sharing looks of uncertainty. He felt embarrassed and close to crushed. If they didn't enjoy their first holiday as a pack because of Stiles...well he didn't want to think about what he would do. 

He grabbed some wine glasses and began to fill them up with kompot ( with dried fruit such as prunes, apricots, figs, apples, peaches, pears, 3 different berries, pineapples, cherries, and oranges that was brought to a boil in water seasoned with cloves, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and lemon juice and served cold) and handed them out as well. Derek is finished as well and sat at the head of the table. Stiles goes to the empty seat to the Alpha's right and smiles down at everyone and gesturing at the table. "Ta-dah! Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I'm glad you guys could all make it and I know Derek is too. I just want to say that I'm thankful for all of you and I'm happy to be here." He gives everyone a meaningful look and tentative smile (yes, even Jackson) before sitting down to stew in his anxiety as the pack begins to try his food. 

Everyone seemed a bit hesitant at first even Derek which made Stiles want to wither away and die on the spot. The candle on the table started to shrink away as his emotions oozed out of him magically without him realizing it. Isaac was the first person to take a spoonful of soup to his lips and shoved it quickly into his mouth as if he might change his mind. His eyes went wide in surprise. "Stiles, wow! This is really good!" He praised enthusiastically. 

Derek looked up at the pack and nodded his head jerkily at them to eat because to be honest not everyone was as brave or kind like Isaac. Derek took a spoonful next followed by Lydia who hummed loudly in pleasure. "Oh my god, Stiles. This is awesome where did you learn to make it?" Lydia asked, kicking Jackson under the table to make him eat. 

"It's an old Polish recipe. It's actually uh-" Stiles train of thought stops while he watches Derek's spoon move from the soup to the Gołąbki where he cuts a bite off effortlessly and pops it in his mouth-"uh my mom's." He finishes as Derek's eyes meet his. It's so stupid but he watches anxiously on edge until Derek gives him a half smile which may as well have been a grin had it been on anyone else's face. 

"There's a sweetness...just a hint though." Derek says once he's finished chewing and swallowing. 

"Honey!" Stiles blurts out though the older man doesn't ask. "It's umm...honey. The secret ingredient I mean." He explains with a flush to his cheeks. Derek's gaze is dark and intense and Stiles can't figure out why it's directed at him but he thinks he'll die if Derek never looks at him like that again. 

"It's kinda weird." Jackson says which makes them break eye contact. "Why make Polish food for Thanksgiving?" 

"Because I'm Polish." Stiles deadpans which makes the girls (and Isaac) laugh. He counts this as a win, the candle on the table burns bright and tall as his anxiety starts to disappear. 

"Yeah but-" Jackson starts but stops when Derek clears his throat and glares daggers at the rich boy. Jackson grumbles something under his breath but shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut. 

The dinner goes off without a hitch and everyone (aside from Derek) tells jokes and laughs the whole time. Stiles feels a warmth spread inside his chest that blooms even brighter every time he catches Derek staring at the pack with a content expression on his face. When dinner and dessert are over the pack moves to the living room to watch a movie. Stiles hangs back in the kitchen and begins to clean the plates and dishes as well as put the food away in Tupperware. 

Derek had stood in the doorway of the kitchen and the living room looking between Stiles and the pack as if he was caught in the middle of some horrible decision similar to The Trolley Problem. After two minutes of standing there he made his decision and went to the living room. 

Stiles had pretended not to notice but it felt as if Derek had chosen the pack over Stiles who clearly wasn't apart of pack. He shouldn't be upset. It was an obvious choice. He shouldn't feel disappointed, it didn't mean that Derek didn't like him. Not that he actually did like him. It was complicated. Stiles didn't know how Derek felt or even what he wanted Derek to feel. He knew he was just some young human boy that barely mattered to anyone. He knew that. But somewhere along the way he felt as though he might have wormed his way into Derek's life (if not his heart).

He shouldn't even be pissed off. He hadn't put this Thanksgiving Dinner together for himself. He did it for Derek and for the pack. He just had to be here to cook the food and get everyone together. It wasn't like he was a piece of the Hale pack puzzle. If anything he was the glue that stuck it together but stayed in the background and didn't add to the pretty picture. 

By the time Derek came back to the kitchen the candle had completely burnt out and Stiles had finished the dishes and put the left overs in the fridge. He took the tote bag he had brought ingredients in and put a big container of all the food inside. "I'm taking a plate for my dad." Stiles explained, not looking up to meet his eyes. "Everything is put up and cleaned so I'll be heading out." 

"You're not staying?" Derek asked, the confusion in his voice made Stiles head snap up involuntarily to look up at the constipated expression on his face. 

"Uhhh no. It's a pack thing you guys should enjoy yourselves." He said waving Derek off dismissively. 

Derek looked at him like he didn't know what to say and was struggling to get words out. "It's not like you're not welcome to stay." Derek settled on, keeping his gaze focused on Stiles. 

"No, yeah, I know." Stiles said quickly because he felt bad for making Derek struggle to work through his emotions. "I uh...my dad's getting off soon." Stiles said hoping his heart didn't skip a beat with a lie. The way Derek's jaw twitched let him know the organ in his chest was a total traitor. Stiles let out a deep sigh and rubbed a hand over his face in stress. "This has made me..." Stiles pauses and looks around gesturing to the kitchen and lowers his voice-"I miss my mom." He says, surprised at how true this statement was. Yeah, he was upset at not being pack and not belonging but all of that started when he lost his mom and his family crumpled into pieces. His sense of belonging died when Claudia Stilinski did. 

Derek took a few steps closer in the room and whispered to Stiles. "I miss mine too." He admitted to Stiles. It should be a shock to Stiles at how open Derek was being but it wasn't. Stiles knows how hard the holidays were for him he couldn't imagine losing your entire family beside Cora and Peter who were in a totally different country. And who would want to be stuck with Peter, gross! 

Stiles couldn't help it, he reached forward and grabbed a hold of Derek's arm to comfort him. When his skin touches Derek's his eyes snap shut and images flash behind his eyelids like a movie playing on a projector. He sees the girl running from his dreams with her long, wild brown hair. The image flickers and fades into dark woods and a hole in the ground. He sees the bare shoulder of a woman first, then her open unseeing eyes, and finally brown hair covered in dirt and blood. He feels despair hit him like a ten ton truck. He has to resist the urge to vomit and stumbles when he violently pulls his hand off of Derek. 

The lights in the house start to flicker and he can hear the static of the TV at full volume. He knows somehow it all has something to do with him and he turns away from Derek and just barely manages to point toward the sink when he violently gets sick. Something is horribly wrong with him and he doesn't know what it could be. He's not normal...what if he's not human? What if he's a monster? His stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought. 

He leans heavily on the sink and ignores the sound of his name being called over the loud static of the TV. He focuses on his harsh breathing trying to even it out as sweat starts to bead on his forehead. His entire body trembles with fear and panic. He doesn't know wat's happening to him or what he's doing to Derek that allows him to see inside his mind or memories but he feels miserable with guilt. He doesn't want Derek to find out and hate him for invading his privacy. He doesn't want him to push him away. He doesn't want to be alone and scared anymore. 

Derek steps toward him and lifts a hand to place it on Stile's back comfortingly and he jerks away immediately. "Don't touch me!" He yells, voice harsh and rough from the trauma of vomiting. Derek turns to look at the others bewildered and unsure what to do. 

"What happened?" Boyd asks from the doorway, holding Erica back with an arm in front of her. All of the wolves can smell Stiles fear and anxiety. They can hear his erratic heart beating and his sharp intakes of breath. 

"I don't know. He just started freaking out." Derek sounds helpless and it makes Stiles feel even worse because he's somehow made his way into the older man's thoughts and he doesn't even realize it. Lydia takes a step toward him. "He told me not to touch him." Derek says quietly. 

"What did you do?" Lydia asks, looking between them to see Stiles keeping his back to Derek with his shoulders hunched to make him smaller. 

"I didn't do anything to him. I wouldn't." Derek bites out defensively. "Stiles, you know that." He says to the other boys back weakly. 

"Then why is he afraid of you?" The ginger girl asks. She doesn't wait for a reply as she crosses the rest of the way to Stiles and hesitantly gathers him in her arms. "C'mon." She whispers and to Derek's dismay he lets her take him in her embrace without a fight. 

Derek sags in defeat trying to figure out what the hell he did wrong to make Stiles afraid of him. "Stiles I-" He starts, voice breaking. 

"It's not you." Stiles says quietly, finally meeting his eyes. "It's me. There's...there's something wrong me with." 

"No, Stiles ther-"

"Take me home." Stiles says, ignoring Derek completely. "Please, I want to go home now." As he speaks his hands shake despite the fact that he's balled them into fists. 

"Stiles-" Derek tries but is cut off by Lydia.

"Okay. Okay, we're going home." Lydia says, petting his hair gently. "Jackson, give me your keys." 

"Lydia!" Jackson whines but hands them over immediately when he sees the fierce look on her face.

"Take Stiles jeep and follow us to the house." She demands and fishes Stiles car keys out of his pocket and hands it over to Jackson. She turns to look at Derek pointedly. "Thank you for having us. We'll be going now." She says and guides Stiles out of the house. Jackson nods to the group and follows her out. 

Derek watches them walk out of his loft feeling devastated and confused. Once the door closes the TV cuts back to the movie they had been watching and plays at a normal volume. Derek turns to go upstairs but sees the bag Stiles left and immediately goes to chase after them. "Wait!" He calls after them. He catches up with them on the stairs and hands Jackson the bag. "It's for the Sherriff." He explains, keeping his eyes off Stiles and turning to go back inside in case he manages to freak the younger boy out even more. When he gets back inside the loft the atmosphere is tense but the pack stays close by in the living room in case he wants to talk. He doesn't, of course, but it's a nice sentiment nonetheless. 

He trudges upstairs and changes into his running clothes. He jogs the entire preserve for the rest of his thanks giving. The pack except for Isaac are gone by time he gets back, but there's some texts from Stiles. 

hey big guy

sorry to freak u out

u ddnt do anything wrong

its not ur fault 

dnt blame urself 

srry to ruin thnxgiving

ill make it up to u 

srry again 

pls dont be mad

i need some time

ill see u soon tho 

just dont be mad 

ok? 

ok

gnite 

He's so incredibly gone for this kid because he finds himself smiling at the fifteen texts he received and doesn't feel annoyed in the least like he knows he should.

I'm not mad at you, Stiles. Take all the time you need for whatever is going on. If you change your mind then I'm here to listen or talk or help. 

I'm here for you just like the rest of the pack. Good night. 

He texts back, pleased that Stiles isn't actually afraid or pulling away forever. If he needs time to sort things out then fine. He'll give the boy time. His wolf doesn't like it but he will have to deal. Whatever Stiles needs to figure his shit out Derek will help him in anyway he can. Stiles just needs to ask. 

Chapter Text

Stiles had kept his resolve and stayed away from Derek. The more days went by the tighter his chest felt. He couldn't explain it. He still texted Derek every day just to check in and ease his anxiety. He had spent some time at Deaton's to "train," which really meant Stiles reading some ancient books and staring at a candle trying to will it to light with his mind. Apparently, Stiles has a spark or is a spark? He's not to sure of the details. All he knows is that so far he's had no progress. The tightness of his chest is making it hard for his brain to function properly and his ADHD meds weren't helping-not even by doubling up. He felt like there was some kind of mental or emotional block that had something to do with stupid handsome grumpy Derek. 

He started doing even worse when Derek stopped texting him back. Part of Stiles feared that Derek was mad at him for not going to see him and the other hypervigilant part of him felt like something was seriously wrong. He tried to stuff those feelings down and write them off as irrational paranoia but there was a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away. 

He expressed his concerns with Lydia because she was helping him train with Deaton and keeping him company while Scott was preoccupied with Allison. Lydia told him it was probably Derek being Derek and nothing to worry about. But Lydia doesn't know Derek as well as he does. She doesn't know that Derek is a shit storm magnet that attracted every kind of big bad the west coast had to offer. She doesn't know that Derek's the unluckiest bastard the world had ever seen. She doesn't know that Derek wouldn't just leave him hanging like this. 

He tries to explain to Scott that the werewolf is missing and they need to look for him but he's so far up Allison's ass he doesn't catch how scared Stiles really feels. 

He texts Boyd to ask if he could relay a message to Derek and he says he hasn't heard from him for three days too. He calls Isaac next. Isaac grumpily asks him what he wants and when asked he's got no idea where the Alpha is either. Isaac feels concerned too but other than the slight tremor in his voice he doesn't let it show. Stiles picks up on it though and it sends his anxiety into a whirlwind of panic.

By the fourth day, he gets over himself and drives his ass to Derek's apartment. He lets himself in with a key he had made for himself (maybe without Derek's knowledge) and looks through the apartment. Stiles makes his way into every room and when he realizes Derek's not here he heads to the preserve. He hopes Derek is just wandering around in the woods or hiding in the old Hale house. The horrible anxiety he feels kind of squashes any hope he has left. 

He does either the stupidest or smartest thing he can think of and calls Peter. The phone rings until it goes to voicemail and he leaves a message. "Last I checked this was Peter Hales' number. If you are in fact Peter Hale Derek's been missing for nearly a week and no one seems interested in finding him. Except me. Something's not right I can feel it and I might...Derek might need your help. If you're not Peter Hale please disregard this message. 'Kay, bye." He hangs up the phone and gets out his jeep to start looking for Derek. He starts with the Hale house but there's no one inside. He starts making his way towards the tree's when he sees what looks to be a piece of cloth snagged on a branch. The sun is starting to set when he reaches the tree with the cloth attached. It's a dark heather grey cotton shirt stained a dark red color. He doesn't have to pick it up to know its blood but when he does it feels as soft as Derek's Henley's do. He hesitates before glancing down and see's what looks to be a dried-up puddle of blood that ran down from the base of the tree and even though he can't smell the blood he gags anyway. 

He takes a few deep breaths to try and pull himself back from the brink of a panic attack. He gets himself mostly under control and slips his phone out of his back pocket. He quickly types up a text to Scott.

code blck in woods drk's been attacked com 2 hale house ASAP 

Once the text is sent he takes off sprinting into the woods. He's worried Derek been attacked and has been bleeding out in the forest with no one to help him. No one had even bothered looking for him save for Stiles. "Derek!" He yells against his better judgment. "Derek! Where are you?" He's screaming at the top of his lungs and prays Derek can hear him just so he knows someone is out there looking. It would crush him for Derek to feel like no one cares, to know that no one in his pack went to look for him. "Derek I'm her-"

Before Stiles can finish he hears a whoosh of air and doesn't register the pain of the arrow when it pierces his shoulder blade. His body propels backward from the sheer force and he struggles to stay upright. He grabs a hold of the nearest tree to catch himself but something hard and cold hits the side of his head and it feels like the world is moving in slow motion while he hits the ground. He blearily looks up through tears and fresh blood. Above him stands a large man that somehow he's seeing double of. "Where's Derek?" He asks through the words come out slow and slurred. 

The man's boot slams hard into his nose. He barely hears the sickening crunch before passing out from the pain. 

Stiles wakes up slowly. He registers a terrible pain on the top of his head by his left temple and a sharp throbbing pain from his nose to his eyes. He groans and reaches up to touch his face but there's a resistance and when he opens his eyes he finds his hands are tied together one hanging rather limply from the fucking arrow in his shoulder and wow holy fuck does that hurt. Stiles struggles to pull himself up into a sitting position and leans back on the wall behind him. He turns his head too fast and he feels so dizzy he almost throws up on himself. Once the dizziness passes and the nausea subside some he slowly looks around. The room is dark and cold with a musty smell that he can make out through the rusty scent of his own blood. 

It takes longer than it should for the realization that he's been kidnapped which leads him to believe he's got a horrible concussion. He bends his leg and tried to get up into a standing position but he falls face-first on the hard cement ground and screams in pain as the arrow pushes deeper into his muscle. He feels so close to blacking out again when he hears an angry and mournful howl. He's not sure why but he lets out a sob of relief as the stress he's felt lessens. He would recognize that howl anywhere. He struggles to sit back up and starts to scream louder and with purpose. "Derek? Derek!" He yells. "I'm here! I'm in here please!" 

He hears Derek howl louder this time sounding more sorrowful than the first time. It acts as a catalyst to get him to scramble up on his feet despite the pain and stumble in the dark searching for an exit. He stops when his hands hit metal bars before he can run into them. He runs his hands along the bars until he finds what he believes to be the door. The metal reeks of wolfsbane and it sends a chill throughout his body. The cage takes up a quarter of the room. The rest of the room is probably a cellar or a basement since there are stairs that lead to a door. There's a light bulb hanging ominously at the top of the stairs taunting him with a direct view of his only exit knowing he can't ever reach it. He pulls on the door as hard as he can as if he could magically break the lock and sprint to Derek's rescue. He tugs viciously until his shoulder hurts so bad his mouth is salivating from the urge to vomit. He falls down to his knees in defeat and leans against the bars for support. "I'm sorry...Derek, I'm so sorry. I'm so sor-" The words fade out as he blacks out from pain and exertion. 

When he comes to it's the sound of the metal door opening. Stiles stubbornly keeps his eyes closed and his body turned away from the door so he doesn't give his captor the impression that he's afraid. Because he's totally not...sort of. Whatever they don't have to know that. He refuses to give them satisfaction. 

He hears the sound of something thrown against the floor with a loud thud and a groan. He peeks one eye open and turns his head to look in his peripheral vision. "Hopefully the beast learns his place before it's too late for you boy." The captor says, pulling the wolfsbane door closed and locking it securely. He waits until he hears the door close and the footsteps disappear before opening his eyes completely to look at who made the groaning noise.

As soon as he sees those tight back muscles he gasps and scrambles himself toward the werewolf ignoring his own sharp pain. "Derek!" He calls trying to keep his heart from rabbiting out of his chest. "Oh my god." His hands tremble as he grabs ahold of Derek's burnt skin to turn him over to face him. Derek's skin is clammy with sweat and his eyes have dark purple bags under them. There's sweat dripping down his temple and his hair is slick with it. There are electrical burns from where the hunters tied him up and tortured him. He's healing slow and Stiles deduces they've been injecting him with some kind of drugs probably mixed with wolfsbane to keep him weak and pliable. He shakes Derek's shoulder gently and when the Alpha groans he pulls the man's head into his lap to offer his damaged body shelter with his own.  He pulls Derek with him with all his might using his good arm and doesn't stop until he's in the corner farthest from the door so they can see it clearly when someone enters the cellar. He leans back against the wall, the back of the arrow digging into his skin stubbornly as the wall puts pressure on it. He hisses from pain but does his best to ignore it. He grabs Derek by putting his arm under the man's armpits and hauling so he's laying on top of him, the back of his head resting on Stile's chest while his body is secure between his legs. "I got you, big guy. I got you." He whispers, running a hand through the unconscious werewolf's hair until he falls back under because the pull to sleep is too strong for him to ignore anymore. 

Derek woke up slowly as the sedatives they gave him started to wear off. He's still weak and exhausted but he has the strength to sit up should he want to. But Derek doesn't even want to open his eyes. His body is warm and his face is cushioned against the most comfortable surface he's ever felt. He takes a deep breath and welcomes the pain he feels from his lungs expanding against his bruised ribcage. He sniffs harder letting the smell of the preserve, fresh-cut grass, dandelions, vague chemicals, cinnamon spice, and brown sugar...and blood.

His eyes open wide against his own volition and he tilts his head back to stare up at Stiles who begins to stir awake from the movement. Derek feels his heart drop to his stomach at the sight of him. He takes all of his self-control not to whimper or snarl in anger that Stiles was injured. 

Unlike Derek, Stiles wakes slowly and disoriented. His head swims from the concussion and his vision blurs slightly before focusing on the face scrunched up in front of him. "De..rek." He croaks out still managing a smile that does nothing but aggravates Derek. How could this idiot be smiling at a time like this and when he looks like that. There's dried blood running along his temple and down his face, bruises on his pale cheek, and blood pooling by his shoulder and staining his jacket. 

"What happened?" He demands, his own voice rough for wear. He quickly pulls himself off of Stiles surprised by the way the younger boy lets out a whimper. 

"You didn't answer your phone." Stiles voice is quiet and slightly slurred as he lets his head lull back against the wall.

"So what? You get yourself locked up in the same hell hole as me to relay a fucking message?" He snaps. Derek doesn't mean to be a dick, really he doesn't. He knows he's not being fair but he's not thinking straight. His wolf is too close to the surface and he's way too angry to get a handle on his emotions. 

"No, jackass." He snarks back, no actual bite to his words. "I was worried about you...I went to...I just wanted to find you." He says softly, his voice tapering out to a whisper as he breathes loudly wincing in pain.

Derek stares at him in stunned silence even though he shouldn't be. "Well, I hope you're not here to rescue me because this right here looks like a terrible plan to do it." He deadpans. Derek can't help but grin when a soft smile graces Stiles' face.

The boy lets out a huff of a laugh and opens his eyes long enough for Derek to see him roll them. "Yeah well, you're the dumbass that got kidnapped in the first place." 

"Better to be the dumbass that got caught off guard than the dumbass that gets caught because someone didn't answer their phone." Stiles eyes snap open to stare at Derek and for a second he feels horrible like he's fucked up big time by hurting Stiles' feelings or pissed him off. 

Stiles' facial features soften into a smile and before he knows it he's laughing and Derek chuckles too. "You're lucky you're a somebody. I wouldn't get my dumbass kidnapped for just anybody you know." 

"Uhh yeah, you would." Derek shoots back making Stiles laugh again. 

"You're right I probably would. I'm about as big of a shit storm magnet as you are." He shifts his weight slightly and lets out a hiss of pain. 

Derek immediately surges forward placing a hand on Stiles ankle to pull some of his pain. The black that oozes into his veins is intense and he nearly feels dizzy from it. He's not even sure how someone as human as Stiles is even awake from it. He has to pull his hand off to keep himself from blacking out. He takes a few harsh intakes of breath before speaking. "Stiles, what happened? Where are you hurt?" He can see blood running down the side of his face and blood soaking through his shirt. He can smell it along with the residual dirt, sweat, and fear. His normally sweet and alluring scent is sour with it. 

Stiles laughs again at the panicked look on the Alpha's face. "I can see you freaking out, sourwolf." Stiles cringes slightly as he moves to sit up straighter. "I really don't want to freak you out anymore but uhh...they hit me over the head with a gun I think...somebody kicked my fucking nose in and the real kicker is that before all that-" he bends over so Derek can see the fucking arrow sticking out of his back "-is that they shot me first." From his bent-over position, he turns his head to the side to stare up at Derek's face which is twisted from what he assumes is anger and hatred- not at him but the people who hurt him. 

Stiles lets out a sigh as Derek's hands hover uselessly in the air above his back. "Don't pull it out," Stiles says, shaking him out of his stupor. His eyes finally leave the arrow out his back and over to his face. 

"I'm not...I won't." Derek answers, slowly coming out of his own head. To see Stiles his mat- him like this it's as if the wound is his own. He feels stupid and helpless and most of all inadequate. There's nothing he can do to help Stiles. If he's got a concussion he can't fix it. If he pulls the arrow out he could bleed out. Stiles isn't a werewolf he's not going to heal quickly at all. He's human, he's fragile, he's susceptible to illness and infection. His hands shake slightly as he reaches forward, he clenches them in a tight fist before opening them to grab ahold of the arrow. "I'm going to break the back of it off so you can lay back without jostling it." He explains, giving him a moment to prepare. He doesn't make a move until Stiles gives him a nod signaling he's steadied himself as best he can. He places his palm on the base of the arrow to keep it steady as he quickly breaks apart the half sticking out. 

Stiles lets out a muffled groan of pain as tears fall down his cheeks without his permission. His vision begins to spot and he braces his hands on the ground in front of him to hold himself up on his shaking arms. He breaths out harsh ragged breaths and whimpers in pain. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Derek quickly apologizes. He places his arms around Stile's waist and pulls him up and back against his chest as Stiles had done for him. "I'm so sorry." He whispers, leaning his head down to kiss the hair on top of his head, breathing in his scent. 

"Wow, Derek. I never realized you were actually capable of apologizing." He says though there's a distinct lack of humor in his voice. "What is this? Some kind of fucked up emotional growth? If I knew getting kidnapped would get you to start apologizing I would've done it a hell of a lot sooner." 

Derek lets out a huff of frustration and a hint of amusement as he shakes his head. "I should've known better than to think kidnapping and torture could ever stop you from being sarcastic." 

"How else am I meant to entertain your furry ass?" He shoots back leaning his head back and letting it rest against the crook of his neck. Derek reaches down and rips the bottom half of Stiles jacket and beings to tie it around Stiles' head. 

"This should help with the bleeding." He explains as the younger boy hisses at the pain.  When Stiles does say anything he starts talking again. "You shouldn't have come looking for me." He says quietly after a moment of silence passes. 

"This is me we're talking about," Stiles replies, trying to lighten the mood. 

"You shouldn't have," Derek says, more serious and dark this time. 

"Derek," Stiles says sternly. 

"No, Stiles. You shouldn't have. Why did you?" He demands with an edge to his voice. 

Stiles keeps his eyes downcast, stubbornly refusing to look up. "You know why." He mumbles. 

"You shouldn't have," Derek repeats, his tone hard leaving no room for argument. It should have anyway. But Stiles being Stiles did not find Derek's Alpha voice or the man himself to be that scary. Not anymore.

"I had to." He argues. 

"You didn't." Derek stubbornly argues back. 

"I had to because you needed to know-" Stiles cuts himself off, turning his head to the side but still refusing to meet his eyes.

Derek sighs in exasperation. "Know what?" He prompts, still sounding angry but Stiles isn't sure if it's directed towards him or the situation itself. Stiles swallows hard and shakes his head slightly like he doesn't want to share. "Know what?" Derek repeats, louder and angrier this time. "Whatever it is it's not worth your life."

"You needed to know that someone was looking for you, okay?" He raises his voice back. "Fuck, Derek, I didn't want you to think nobody cares or nobody noticed, okay?" He whips his head up to stare at Derek but ends up falling back against him from the dizziness of his concussion. "Fuck!" He scowls in frustration. "And you are, by the way."

"I'm what?" Derek asks, going stiff under him. 

"Worth my life. You are. You should know that. You of all people should know that, Derek." He whispers the words as if someone else could hear his confession and take it from Derek. Take it so he can't understand the weight. It's not even that he wants Derek to treasure them it's just that he wants the older man to know that he matters. To someone, he matters. Someone, Stiles at least, will come for him. Even if he's not much help. Even if it cost him his life. He desperately wanted Derek to know he wasn't alone, not anymore. 

"Stiles, I'm not-"

"Would you just shut the fuck up?" He interrupts. "Could you please, for once, not try and talk me out of something?" Stiles looks up at Derek finally and the older man stares without saying anything. 

Derek must see something because he nods after a while and presses his lips to his hair again. "I just wish you weren't here." He relents. 

"Someone should come for us soon, hopefully. If not Scott then my plan B was Peter." 

"Your plan B is Peter?" Derek asks, Stiles can see his eyebrows raise as he slowly tilts his head all the way back to stare at him. 

"Yeah, but only because Scott's closer. I called Peter first, though, so technically he was my plan A. But I don't like to get too hung up on technicalities." He explains, giving a half-hearted smile.

"Why and how do you have Peter's number?" A spark of jealousy and a surge of possessiveness course through him. He barely manages to stop himself from releasing a growl.

"He gave it to me, duh." Stiles grins at him as if he knows how this information makes Derek feel. "He said I'd be the only one smart and shameless enough to call him when you need help. He was right." 

Derek pauses to take this information in and what it means in regards to his uncle. He can't help but wonder if he knows about Stiles? If he knows they are mates? Or will be given time. "How did the hunters find you?" Derek finally asks.

"I went to the preserve when I found your loft empty." He explains, feeling his eyelids go heavy and the overwhelming feelings of nausea returning. "What do they want with you?" He asks, suppressing a yawn. 

"Something I cannot give," Derek says darkly, clearly refusing to elaborate. 

Stiles nods. It won't make a difference either way. Even if Derek could give them whatever the hell it is they want the hunters would kill them both as soon as they had it. "I'm sorry if I throw up on you," Stiles says weakly, feeling dizzy as his head pounds. His stomach is empty and at this point, he's not sure if food in it would help his nausea or make it worse. 

Derek's first instinct is to open his mouth and threaten to rip Stiles throat out if he so much as thinks about it but he feels too guilty to even though he knows Stiles wouldn't take it to heart. "It's okay." He says instead stroking Stiles' messy hair soothingly. "It's okay even if you do." Stiles hums his acknowledgment and curls on his side against the werewolf with a groan, nuzzling his cheek to the bare skin of his chest.          

Derek listened to Stiles rabbit heart and his breathing even out. This skin of his cheek feels ice cold against Derek's warm chest. He pulls Stiles against him as tightly as he could, running his hands up and down his arms to heat him up. He sits there holding his fragile human mate to his chest. Like this in the dark, damp, cold cellar locked in a cage surrounded by the smell of Stiles fear and blood he can't deny it any longer. Stiles is his mate. It's a fact like the way he knows he needs air to breathe and how the tides, just as werewolves, are bound by the moon.

He sits there, soothingly running his hands over his arms and gently pushing the sweaty and blood-crusted hair off of his face. He sits there for hours, his cheek rested on the younger boy's head on the opposite side of where he'd been pistol-whipped. He's exhausted from pain, lack of sleep, food, water, and wolfsbane. He fights to keep his eyes open just in case something happens but eventually he passes out. He wakes to the sound of footsteps coming down the cellar stairs. Slowly he moves Stiles, gently laying him on the ground. By the time two hunters come down, he's on his feet crouched in front of Stiles his face half shifted. He growls, low and dangerous. 

The hunters look at him and laugh, kicking the bars tauntingly. "There's nothing you can do, mutt." The large man says. "Not if you don't want anything to happen to the boy." 

Derek narrows his eyes suspiciously at them. "If you come out, no trouble, we'll leave your little boyfriend alone." The woman beside him says.

"For now." The man adds. 

The woman steps forward jingling the keys in her hand. "Take it or leave it. If you don't come willingly he comes with us upstairs and you do know what that's like, don't you?" 

His lips curl in disgust at her but still, he turns his head to look at the boy curled up on the ground. He's managed to make his tall frame shrink in on itself as his body shivers slightly from the cold. The wound on his head is no longer bleeding but the arrow wound is still worrisome. If they take him upstairs and torture him they could move the arrow or pull it out he could bleed to death. If they hit him on the head again it could cause the pressure in his skull to build from worst-case scenario a brain bleed. He does not know if anyone is actually coming to rescue them and he's too weak to fight them off by himself at the moment. The most logical thing is to fight the wolf's instincts to lunge and attack and accept their deal. He doesn't trust them, of course not, but if there is a chance they will leave the boy alone. Even if Stiles didn't know and even if he never accepted it, Stiles is and always will be his mate. Stiles is it for him. There will be no one else after. 

He shakes his head, returning to his human features, and walks to the door to comply with their wishes. If anything, it can buy him time or an opportunity to escape. 

Stiles is freezing when he wakes up and the chill is the first thing that he registers. The second is the horrible pounding of his head. The third is that the warmth where Derek is supposed to be behind him is missing and his side is against the cold concrete floor. It takes a minute for his mind to catch up to his body but once it does he sits up too fast and nearly topples over from the pain and the dizziness. 

Once his vision begins to focus his heart drops to his stomach. Derek is gone. His world falls apart right before him and tears well in his eyes. He wants to scream and pound on the bars of the cage until they bring him back. 

A loud howl cuts through the silence and he feels relieved for a second to know that Derek is alive. Only after 3 seconds into the howl, his blood runs cold. He could recognize Derek's voice anywhere, even his howl, but that- that's not Derek. Stiles has never heard that howl before. He realizes with a sense of dread that there's at least one other werewolf and he hasn't heard Derek at all. He opens his mouth and he's screaming the Alpha's name before he even realizes it. He keeps screaming but all he's met with is radio silence. His heart rate spikes and his breaths come in quick rasps. He's hyperventilating and crying and screaming. He scrambles forward and bangs and pulls at the bars. He begs and pleads to see Derek, for them to bring him back, for Derek to howl or scream to let him know he's alive. The silence is so deafening it pounds in his head alongside the concussion. 

His mouth snaps shut when he hears the door upstairs rattle as someone enters the cellar. He hears heavy footsteps make their way down the steps and he looks up to see a large man with a very pissed-off expression on his face. He angrily wipes his tears away on the sleeves of his jacket and schools his face into a hardened expression. He stands up on shaky legs and juts his chin out defiantly. "I want to see Derek." He demands, narrowing his eyes at the hunter. "Now."