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Derek slammed the rolling loft door shut behind him with enough force to nearly knock it off its track. His head was reeling, thoughts racing so fast but nearly indecipherable above the constant enraged roaring.


He could still taste Gerard’s foul, tainted blood in his mouth…

Feel clammy skin beneath his teeth…


Another Argent had used his body against his will.


With a scream of wild, impotent fury, he turned and drove his fist through the wall, sending a burst of bricks flying through the other side. The outburst did absolutely nothing to assuage the boiling anger he felt over the betrayal – no, the fucking violation – he had just been subjected to at the hands of that stupid, arrogant, useless excuse for a beta.

After everything he did trying to save that dumb fuck, this was the thanks he got? All those times keeping Scott and Stiles safe from everything from hunters to Peter to the Kanima and everything in between… and for what?

He felt as if he was going to burst out of his own skin. His rage was a living thing – wild and ravenous and bloodthirsty. The darkness of it threatening to overcome man and wolf. Threatening to twist his Alpha form into something monstrous – something as truly grotesque as his Uncle had become.

His phone rang and he snarled in response to the intrusive sound.

He ignored it at first, too busy gripping his head with clawed hands, squeezing in an attempt to ground himself. Everything was all wrong. His family was dead. His sister buried in fucking pieces. He had lost his pack again – abandoned by the broken teens he had foolishly hoped might need him as much as he needed them. Gerard fucking Argent had limped off into the night, just one more loose end that would undoubtedly come back to haunt him. And Peter – fucking Peter was back from the dead and acting as if all was forgotten. What the – ? What was he even supposed to do with that? He could not even muster the emotion necessary to kill his last living relative again.

His phone continued to ring, the sound clawing at his mind until he could no longer stand it.

“WHAT?!” he roared as he brought the phone to his ear.

“…Derek? …thank God…” a familiar voice breathed shakily.

Derek recoiled as if slapped, rage burning brighter still at the fucking audacity of Stiles calling him after all of this. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” the Alpha demanded. “You’re calling me? Who the fuck do you think you are? After the shit you and your idiot friend just pulled, you’re lucky I haven’t tracked you down and ripped your spine out through your mouth and you have the fucking BALLS to actually CALL me?” he roared. 

Stiles exhaled sharply. “What – ? Der, I – I don’t know w-what – “ he stammered weakly.

“Oh, bull fucking shit, Stiles,” he snapped back in disgust. “Save it. Everyone knows Scott couldn’t find his ass with both hands. You expect me to believe he thought this shit up on his own? Huh? That he decided to work with Gerard behind my back? That he planned out paralyzing me and forcing me to bite Gerard?”

“What?” Stiles managed in barely more than a choked whisper. “No… No, that’s not… He wouldn’t… That can’t be…”

“Don’t even try it!” Derek spat contemptuously. “You had to fucking know. And I’m not even surprised!” He scoffed before shaking his head and saying bitterly, “No, you know what – that’s a fucking lie. I am surprised. Because I really – as STUPID as it was, against my better judgment – thought that maybe, just MAYBE I could actually trust you. Well, I guess that was my own fault, huh? Lesson fucking learned. So, do me a favor? Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t call me. Don’t look for me. Don’t go anywhere near me. Because I swear, I don’t know how I’d react if I saw either of you right now. Have a nice fucking life, Stiles.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, disconnecting the call before Stiles could even hope to respond. Just before the call ended, he caught a strange, stricken sound through the receiver… a sob… but he easily dismissed it in his blind rage.

He turned back to the wall and returned to using his fists like sledgehammers in an effort to quell the fury and pain that was nearly drowning him. Because he had trusted Stiles. He really had. He had known that it was dumb, but for some inexplicable reason, he actually felt safe with the spastic human. His wolf had been so settled and calm in his presence – had wanted so badly to get closer, always closer. And so many times, Stiles had seemingly established himself as being worthy of trust. He repeatedly put himself in danger in a foolish attempt to protect Derek. Shouldn’t that prove that trusting him was a good decision? Shouldn’t Stiles’ record of actually successfully saving Derek’s life on more than one occasion mean that Derek was justified in giving that trust?

But once again he had been wrong. He just could not seem to get this right – was always putting his faith in all the worst people.

And for some reason, Stiles’ betrayal hurt worst of all. Because Derek had already given up all hope. He had already lost everything. He knew better. He had vowed to never, ever again count on anyone. Yet somehow, against all odds, from the ashes of his former life, from the broken wreck he had become, a delicate tendril of hope had still managed to rise… only to be ruthlessly stamped out.

His wolf howled mournfully in his chest at the thought of losing Stiles now, too. It was all too much. He could not do this anymore… He dropped to his knees on the cold concrete floor, breaths coming in fast bursts as he began to lose control.

Just before he fell over the edge, a familiar sensation caused him to freeze in place. His eyes went wide as he tried to assess it. There… faint and broken but still present… two pack bonds were drawing tight. Noise on the stairwell at the ground floor caused his head to whip around. He held his breath as he listened to their frantic footfalls racing up the stairs.

His heart stuttered in his chest as the door was hauled open to reveal his missing betas. His wolf was whining frantically, wanting nothing more than to crawl to them and wrap around them. He nearly collapsed in relief, his mind repeating like a mantra, ‘they came back… not alone… not alone again…’

He opened his mouth to speak, but they were both faster than him.

“We need to find Stiles!” Erica sobbed at the same time as Boyd asked, “Have you seen Stiles?”

Derek’s expression hardened, rage rising again to smother the anguish. “Fuck Stiles. Where have you two been? What the hell happened?” he demanded as he leapt to his feet and crossed the loft to reach them. His brow furrowed as he spotted blood on their clothes. Their scents were a muddled mess of far too much information to easily decipher. The most pressing items were… Burnt flesh. Hot metal. Concrete dust. Argents. He snarled at that.

Erica drew back in disbelief at his words. “No. NO, Derek! We need to find him! You… You don’t know what…! We have to find Stiles NOW! Please!” she begged, gripping the front of his shirt and gazing up at him with wild, tearful eyes.

Her desperation gave Derek pause, causing him to frown in uncertainty. His rage began to recede enough to allow him to think clearly. “What? Why?”

Boyd’s eyes were tearful and haunted as he insisted, “Der, I don’t know what you think happened, but if we don’t find Stiles right now…”

“He’s gonna die!” Erica cried urgently. “The hunters… and Gerard… they…” She brought a trembling hand up, covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. “Oh, God, Derek… They…” she whimpered. “The things they did to him… Just, please! We have to go! We have to – “

“They tortured him,” Boyd choked out. “So bad. Der, they…” His expression twisted in horror at the memory. “I don’t think he’s gonna make it,” he whispered and shook his head. “I mean… maybe if we can get to him in time and you can bite him, but…”

Derek’s eyes narrowed in confusion as his mind fought to deny this information. Clearly, there was some kind of mistake. “No. No, that’s not… Stiles is fine. He just…” He turned in place, a chill running through him as he looked back to where his phone was lying among the shattered bricks. “He just called me.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “He did?! What did he say? Is he at the hospital?” she demanded frantically as she grabbed Boyd’s arm and started back toward the door.

Derek felt dizzy suddenly – disconnected as he shook his head and struggled to follow along. “N-no. He… I… I don’t know. I didn’t…” he struggled to say. Dread coiled in his gut, heavy and cold. He felt sweat break out across his upper lip as his stomach roiled. “I didn’t let him talk,” he confessed on a whisper before quickly crossing the space to grab his phone.

“What do you mean?” Boyd asked uneasily.

Derek tried to hold back a broken sound when he focused on his phone’s screen. It had been cracked at some point during his frenzy, but it still lit up to reveal six missed calls from Stiles and one voicemail. He bypassed the message for now, going straight for returning Stiles’ call.


Only it didn’t ring.


It went straight to Stile’s recorded greeting.


Derek exhaled tremulously and tried to stay calm. He called several more times, growing steadily more frantic each time, before allowing the truth to settle in.


Stiles’ phone was off.


“No. No, no, no, please, no,” Derek whispered to himself, barely able to see the screen through his tearful eyes.

What had he done?

Had he been so blinded by rage that he dismissed Stiles' call for help?

“Oh God…” he whimpered. He pressed a hand to his mouth as he brought the phone up to his ear and listened to the message that had been recorded just a few minutes prior.



The voice on the message was weak, and breathing was labored, and Derek was already dying inside from guilt and terror.


Stiles sounded disoriented as he mumbled, "...h-hey... Der... 'm... ‘m s-sorry ‘bout what Scott did… y-you might not believe, but… I swear… had no idea… never woulda... done that… to you… um... listen, I… I know... know you don't trust me... but... well, I do trust you and I..." His voice broke as he fought to hold back tears. He paused to breathe for a few seconds before losing the battle and sobbing, "I really need your help right now… I… I can't... see… can't help you find me... and I... I don't know where I am... and I… I can't... can't fucking see... I..." His words became indecipherable as he gave into the need to break down for a minute, weeping and whimpering into the phone.

Derek bit back a sob, biting his hand and squeezing his eyes shut as he listened, holding his breath and praying for something to indicate where Stiles might be.

Abruptly, Stiles’ crying ceased. When he spoke again, he sounded jarringly alert, as if his next words sobered him from his sorrow and made him fully aware of the reality of his plight. "I guess... Wow, I guess you can't really help me if I can't even tell you where I am, huh?” he asked with a broken, wet laugh. He whispered, seemingly to himself, “…so stupid... shoulda realized...” He took a shaky breath before pleading, “Just... just tell my Dad that I'm sorry… please? Tell him I love him… that I was just trying to do the right thing… I never meant for… for him to be alone…" He lost it again for a minute, keening and sniffling. "Fuck, it’s so shitty of me leaving all this on your voicemail, huh?” he eventually asked with a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry, man. You shouldn’t have to… I... Listen, I don't blame any of you, okay? This isn’t your fault. It’s the Argents. They did this. You tell my Dad that Gerard did this to me. Gerard Argent. And... if Erica and Boyd find their way back to you... tell 'em I'm glad they're okay. I’m glad they survived… I… I tried to help them… I really did, Der, but... I just... I wasn’t… I couldn’t… I tried so fucking hard, man…” He let out a frustrated, broken sob, then descended into silence for a moment. His voice was increasingly faint as he struggled to say, “…'m sorry. I don't... I can’t… I think... I'm just..."





The message ended abruptly.





Derek stood frozen in the resulting silence, swaying in place with his lips parted in disbelief. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No. That… That can’t… That can’t be it. I don’t… I don’t know where…” He gripped his hair, his breathing coming in shallow bursts as he looked to Erica and Boyd. “I don’t know where he is!” he said frantically. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do,” he said, voice coming out small and broken as his fractured heart threatened to hammer its way out of his chest. “You don’t… You don’t understand… I… I fucking… I screamed at him. I… Oh God…” His face crumpled in horrified realization, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. “He trusted me…” he gasped. “He trusted me, and I… I screamed at him… I hung up on him… I left him like that to… I… nnn…”

He was barely aware of it as he collapsed heavily to the floor, the full weight of his failure hitting him like a freight train. Erica and Boyd rushed forward to try and keep him upright, taking his outstretched hands, and attempting to calm him.

“Derek? Der?” Erica tried in hoarse voice as she cupped his face and tried to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. We have to go. We have to go look, okay? We have to go now. We can track him. We can. We’ll look. We’ll find him. Come on. Get up,” she pleaded tearfully. “Please, Derek?”

“I’ll help,” Peter volunteered from the doorway, causing the other three to look over at him in surprise. The elder Hale had a determined, somewhat homicidal glint in his eyes, but his voice was calm as he informed his nephew, “If we split up, the four of us can cover a lot more ground.”

Derek took a steadying breath before nodding his head in agreement.

Chapter Text

They divided Beacon Hills into four sections. Erica took the residential areas. Boyd went to the business district with all of the shops.

Peter took the industrial area. Littered with abandoned factories, it was a favorite locale for hunters and monsters alike. It was also the very last place Derek was willing to send his only recently returned betas into alone.

Derek would have taken that location, but instead elected to search the Preserve. It was his only option at the moment, as his control was unreliable and he kept shifting involuntarily every time he recalled the sound of Stiles’ voice on that call before Derek had hung up on him and fucking abandoned him. The memory would invariably cause Derek to roar and tear into the closest tree before forcing himself to press on.

He was lost inside his own head, surrendering to his wolf as he ran through the forest, nose to the wind, frantic for any hint of Stiles’ scent. He had no sense of time when his phone finally rang. With hunters in the area, they had agreed to only howl if absolutely necessary.

As soon as he brought his phone to his ear, Peter said somberly, “I found him.”

Derek’s stomach dropped at the tone of his Uncle’s voice. “Is he…?” the Alpha tried, but could not force the question from his lips.

Peter exhaled slowly. “He… asked me to take him to the hospital, but… you need to prepare yourself to say goodbye.”

An anguished sob tore its way from Derek’s throat. With tears streaming down his face, he managed to choke out, “W-where?”

“The old textile factory,” he answered, knowing that would be enough direction. The Alpha would be able to scent them from there. “I’ll call the others. Just get here quickly.”




The journey to reach them was a complete blur. When Derek broke the tree line and pinpointed their location, he had to stifle a whimper. Stiles… was behind a dumpster. They had dropped him off in the parking lot of an abandoned building… and discarded him behind a fucking dumpster… like trash. Derek fought to keep his tears at bay as he approached. At first, he could only hear Peter’s heartbeat and he nearly lost the will to keep going.

But then he heard a pained sound and Peter whispering, “Shh… Derek’s coming. Don’t try to move.”

The Alpha shuffled closer, but abruptly stopped, face contorting in a mixture of horror and anguish when he focused on the broken form of the typically bright and beautiful teen. There was not an inch of Stiles’ face or body or the scraps of material still clinging to him that was not completely saturated in blood. There were far too many injuries to even begin to catalogue them all. And his face… Christ, he was barely recognizable. Both eyes were swollen shut. His features were just a mess of blood and bruising, preventing Derek from discerning the extent of the damage.

Black lines were racing up Peter’s arms from where he was clutching one of Stiles’ hands, attempting to syphon his pain. And when he turned and looked up at his nephew, the absolute shattered expression on his face made it clear that he was barely holding it together. His voice, however, was calm and steady for Stiles’ sake as he said, “Derek’s here now.”

“…h-hey… big guy…” Stiles rasped between pained gulps and labored breaths.

The Alpha dropped down to his knees beside him. A wolf whine escaped him as he leaned in closer, hand hovering over Stiles’ blood-soaked cheek. He was desperate to touch, to offer comfort, but afraid that he might somehow cause further harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed in a strained voice as he attempted to hold back tears. “So fucking sorry, Stiles. I thought…”

“…’s okay, Sourwolf…” Stiles slurred. “…I know… ‘s okay… just… just don’t…”

Brows drawing together, he took Stiles’ free hand and asked shakily, “Don’t what?” He began pulling pain from him, and nearly burst into tears at what he could feel. Never in his life had he been subjected to this level of suffering, and Peter had already taken a good portion of it.

“…d-don’t bite, Der… don’t…” Stiles answered, attempting to shake his head, then wincing and crying out at the pain the action caused.

The Alpha gritted his teeth and fought with everything he had not to sob at that. “But I… It could help you, Stiles,” he said brokenly. “It could save you. Please let me try – ?”

“…n-n-no… ‘s not your fault,” Stiles insisted weakly. “…‘s… ‘s okay…” he whispered before his body went completely limp.

“Stiles?” Derek called anxiously, eyes going wide as he listened to the slow, faint beat of his heart. “Hey, Stiles? Stiles? STILES?” he called, growing steadily more frantic.

“He’s still alive, nephew…” Peter said before adding regretfully, “…for now.”

A car raced into the parking lot at that point, slamming on the brakes a short distance away. Derek was distantly aware of the fact that it was Erica and Boyd, but he did not acknowledge them. Could not acknowledge them. He was too busy whining and surveying the extent of the wounds on Stiles’ body.

God, what had they done to him?

When the others insisted that they had to move him, Derek snapped out of his horrified daze and slowly, carefully as if Stiles was made of glass, scooped him up into his arms. He held him to his chest protectively – involuntary, high-pitched, repeated wolf whines leaving him despite his best attempts to hold them back because Stiles was so fragile… and human… and those bastards had broken him. He settled into the backseat of the vehicle and kept his gaze on the bloodied, broken teen in his arms.




They reached the hospital, and once they entered the building, it took a lot of coaxing and pleading from his betas before Derek was able to let go of Stiles and hand him over to the nurses. He stood in the middle of the ER, feeling completely lost as he watched them wheel him away on a stretcher. When the doors closed, blocking him from view, Derek nearly collapsed to the floor.

Peter caught his arm and held him upright, quickly ushering him over to a seat, and for the first time, Derek felt a sense of relief that his Uncle had come back from the dead.

Erica and Boyd sat in the chairs beside him and curled into his sides, attempting to offer comfort their Alpha.

Isaac arrived in a rush, cutting around people in the waiting room and making a bee line for them. He crouched down in front of Derek as soon as he reached them, clearly drawn by his distress. He looked as if he might pass out when they told him what was going on, and quickly moved to sit on the floor in front of his Alpha, leaning against the side of his leg while clutching Erica’s hand.

Peter paced in front of them with his gaze locked on the ER doors, the proverbial wolf at the gate, impatiently waiting for the freedom to charge forward. After a few moments, he spoke. “I didn’t want to bring him here,” he said quietly.

Derek frowned and looked up at his Uncle, wordlessly prompting him to continue.

“I offered to end his suffering when I found him,” Peter confessed. “This is too much for anyone to…” He paused, taking a deep breath, and pressing his lips together. “But he wanted the chance to at least say goodbye to his father, if at all possible. So, I honored his wishes.” He turned and looked down at Derek, a distant, heartbroken look in his eyes as he said, “I honestly don’t know why I wanted to come back to this life. I wish I hadn’t been alive to see this. The things they did to him…” He gritted his teeth.

Derek struggled to hold back tears as his betas whined around him.

“Did you know that he was relieved when he realized it was me?” Peter asked, clearly unable to handle this fact. “When I found him, when I spoke to him and he knew it was me, he actually calmed. The last time he saw me, I was a homicidal maniac who was killed right before his very eyes, and yet he was relieved that it was me, rather than Gerard or his men returning for him. What does that tell you?”

Derek shuddered and clenched his jaw, then brought his hand up to cup the back of Erica’s head as she wept into his shoulder.

Peter retreated into his thoughts for a moment, turning his thousand-yard stare back to the ER doors before saying, free of all malice, “I hope he does not survive this. It would be a mercy for him to die rather than live on with the memories.”




Derek was so focused on the doors that he barely registered the Sheriff’s arrival. The urgent questions. The answers provided by his betas. But it wasn’t enough. Of course, it wasn’t. He needed real answers.

And so (after the Sheriff assured them repeatedly that the hospital staff knew where to find him and would report to him immediately with any news on Stiles), the group of them followed him into an office for privacy.

“Somebody better start talking,” the Sheriff demanded, eyes bloodshot and desperate.

“There’s… a lot, sir,” Isaac warned timidly.

Noah bared his teeth in a strikingly wolfish manner as he jabbed a finger behind himself in the direction of the door and snarled, “My son is in emergency surgery right now with a list of injuries a mile long and a terrifyingly low likelihood of survival.” His jaw trembled at the truth of his own words. “I don’t give a damn what you think I’m ready to hear, one of you had better start giving me some answers right the hell NOW.”

Erica took a deep breath, then let her eyes glow and fangs descend. “Werewolves are real,” she declared as the Sheriff took a startled step back.

One by one, the others allowed their shifts to take over, then looked to Derek. Locking eyes with the elder Stilinski, he allowed his own to glow Alpha red before slowly dropping his fangs and allowing his face to change.

The Sheriff’s heartrate skyrocketed as he studied each of them, struggling to process what he was seeing.

And then, finally, with a fire in his eyes he had clearly passed down to his son, Noah said, “I’m listening.”




As Peter and the others gave Noah a breakdown of everything he needed to know, Derek stared down at the dried blood on his hands… at the way his shirt and pants were stiff with it… at the stained imprint of where Stiles had been pressed against him, cradled in his arms… The empty, bloodied silhouette was an afterimage of what was missing and might never be returned to him.

When Erica and Boyd attempted to explain what had been done to Stiles by the hunters, Derek was unable to hold back a shift. He dug his claws into his thighs, but the resulting pain provided no help at all.

Eventually, with a shellshocked look on his face, the Sheriff turned to the Alpha. “They say he left you a message?” the Sheriff asked in a trembling voice.

Derek winced and gritted his teeth at the reminder of his failure. Fighting back tears, he nodded. He withdrew his claws from his thighs and pulled his phone from his pocket. He went to his voicemail and pulled up the message, handing the phone over to the Sheriff and looking back down at his hands as he and the others listened along to Stiles’ words again.

Noah covered his face as he listened to his boy weeping and trying to be brave despite everything he had endured. The man let out a choked off sob when Erica stepped forward and hugged him. She cried against his chest while rubbing her cheek against him, unknowingly responding to the trace amounts of Stiles’ scent she could catch on his clothes.

When the message ended, and after he stood with Erica and cried for a moment, Noah sucked in a steadying breath and wiped his face. “We have no idea where Gerard is now?”

“Not yet,” Peter answered before adding in a low, dangerous tone, “But I will soon.”

Chapter Text

Given Noah’s position, it was relatively easy to keep details relating to Stiles’ condition under wraps, even in such a small town. As soon as the words ‘ongoing investigation’ and ‘lawsuit and criminal charges if anyone breathes a word’ were thrown around, everyone kept their mouths shut.

Everyone, that is, except for that one nurse who made the mistake of sneaking out to the parking garage and attempting to contact the local news with a tip. His phone – effortlessly crushed into several pieces – was handed back to him by Peter along with a quiet, graphic, deeply unsettling promise of retribution should he ever try it again.




Stiles survived the seemingly endless surgeries against all odds. The doctors kept him in a medically induced coma to give his body time to heal, and sent him for every test imaginable in order to determine the full extent of the damage to his body.

Derek and his betas were ever present, guarding over him in his vulnerable state and providing support to the Sheriff in any way they could.




By the second day, Melissa McCall showed up at the ICU room Stiles had been assigned, panic stricken and genuinely distraught after seeing Stiles’ name on the patients’ list.

But the Sheriff was too furious over Scott’s actions to grant her any access to his son.

Words were exchanged – cold and hard – and the Sheriff told her in no uncertain terms that she was not welcome and was to keep all information pertaining to Stiles’ health private, even from her own son. If Scott wanted to know what was going on with Stiles, he would have to come find out for himself.




Stiles would never see again.


The doctor’s somber words raced around and around Derek’s mind, but no matter how many times they repeated, he could not make sense of them. Could not process them. Could not accept them.

Because Stiles needed to see, so it simply could not be true.

Stiles needed to take in everything around him. Analyze. Assess. Scrutinize. Stiles needed to lay out all of his thoughts on his crime board. Needed visual aids in order to dissect the chaos of the million seemingly unrelated details in his mind. Needed it in order to decipher the world around him.

Stiles’ eyes were a vital part of him. They needed to be in perpetual motion. Narrowing. Widening. Flitting over his surroundings. Moving every bit as swiftly as his hands and mouth. Constantly changing in shape, focus, and expression in time with his words to fully communicate the depths of his humor and wit.


But they never would again.


Stiles would never again see his father’s smile. Or his late mother’s gravestone. Or his beloved Jeep. He would never read another book or see his own diploma when he graduated high school. He would never again comment on the positioning of Derek’s eyebrows or the flashes of crimson in his gaze. Would never see another sunrise or sunset.


Stiles would never see again.


Stiles was blind.


And from what Erica had managed to tell them about their time in captivity, the damage to Stiles’ eyes was a result of prolonged electrocutions. Just one of many cruel, twisted punishments he received for refusing to provide information on Derek and the others.

For the crime of his unflinching loyalty and desperate desire to protect those he cared about, they had taken Stiles’ sight.

Derek barely made it into the bathroom before he was throwing up everything that he had eaten that morning. When there was nothing left, he sank to the floor and sobbed through dry heaves of horrified despair.




The morning of the third day, Lydia and Jackson arrived, each looking deeply humbled and desperate to find out what was going on with Stiles. Evidently, they had been trying to find him ever since Jackson vaguely recalled overhearing Gerard mention him by name. The hospital had been their last resort, but they had honestly not thought they would find him there.

Erica informed them through gritted teeth that Gerard had tortured Stiles nearly to death and blinded him.

Jackson’s knees gave out from beneath him, his face going white as a sheet.

Without thinking, Derek rushed forward and responded to the beta’s distress, holding him steady and calming him. It was easy to forget, given Jackson’s typical douchebag persona, just how deeply traumatized he had been by his time as the Kanima, and all the things Matt and Gerard had forced him to do.

While Lydia wept beside them, Jackson looked up to Derek and asked for permission to stay and join his pack. The pack bond that flared to life a moment later was bright and strong with his resolve to defend Stiles while he healed.




In the days that followed, the betas took shifts, but Derek remained at the hospital. He was a constant fixture, refusing to leave when visiting hours ended. Hospital security threatened to have him arrested on the second night – a fate he only managed to avoid because Stiles’ father overheard the commotion down the hall and charged out to come to his defense.

Perks of being the Sheriff – everyone instantly stood down and backed off when they spotted him. Red-faced and furious, Noah informed security and staff alike that Derek was ‘family’ and was to be granted the same level of access to Stiles as his own father. And, he added stonily, if anyone had a problem with that, they were to bring their complaints directly to him and to ‘stay the hell away from Derek.’

Derek had to retreat to the rooftop for a while after that because he was unable to hold back tears.

And when he eventually returned to Stiles’ room, the Sheriff was waiting, offering a tight-lipped smile, a paternal clap on the back, and a fresh cup of coffee.




10 days after his arrival in the hospital, the doctors finally decided that it was time to wake Stiles. And a new, awful truth arose.


Stiles could not – or would not – speak.


And the too-quiet world officially no longer made any sense to Derek.


When anyone attempted to talk to him, Stiles would not engage. He did not respond to the news that he would never see again. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and did not answer questions or make requests. He simply sat rigid and silent, jaw clenched tightly and hands gripping his blankets as if afraid he might drift away without a constant hold on something tangible.

His scent betrayed an endless whirlwind of emotion, but his outward appearance revealed none of it. Grief and anger and fear and remorse and guilt and despair… all while he sat there, utterly silent and still.

He permitted touch – even welcomed it.

When his father would hug him, Stiles would curl into himself and duck his head, as if attempting to hide away from the world. Any time Derek would take his hand to draw his (still dishearteningly intense) pain, the human would hold on so tightly, the Alpha thought for sure his bones would break. The first time Erica and Boyd came and climbed up beside him on the bed, each carefully curling around him while quietly crying and apologizing for not protecting him, he melted into the contact and promptly fell asleep. He accepted Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson’s careful, unsure touches even as his scent conveyed his genuine surprise that they cared.

And when Peter would sneak in after hours (as, according to official documents, he was still a catatonic burn victim who was missing and presumed dead), and the elder wolf would sit beside Stiles on the edge of the bed, Stiles would lean toward him, sometimes even seeking out his hand to hold.

The only time Stiles would react to anything in a way that could be considered even remotely verbal was when anyone broached the subject of Derek giving him the bite. Then, and only then, Stiles would give furious sounds of refusal and shake his head. His father had tried to get him to acknowledge or even consider the possibility of the bite helping him, but he could not be reasoned with.

Derek tried to keep his heartbreak over that refusal to himself.




Three weeks since his admission to the hospital, the doctors finally felt that his condition was stable enough that it was safe to release him. Derek and the others waited down the hall while the Sheriff handled the endless paperwork.

Another blow came when Noah exited the room, looking pale and rattled. He walked up to Derek slowly, expression pinched and scent betraying his sorrow and apprehension for whatever he was about to say.

“What is it?” Derek asked worriedly.

“Stiles wants the two of us to go home… alone,” he informed the Alpha regretfully.

Derek’s brows drew together in confusion. “What? What do you mean?” he asked, not comprehending.

Noah swallowed audibly and ducked his head to hide his tearful eyes. “He… He actually spoke. Asked me to tell you all to go back to your own places. Not to worry about him.”

“Fat fucking chance of that!” Erica scoffed in disbelief, causing Boyd to catch her elbow and attempt to calm her.

Jackson was outwardly as furious as Erica, even as his scent conveyed anguish over the perceived rejection.

Lydia’s jaw was clenched, and eyes glittered with unshed tears despite her best efforts to appear unaffected.

Derek stared at the Sheriff dumbly, struggling to understand. “But… why?”

Noah shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I really don’t know. But… it’s the first time he’s spoken… so I feel like we have to respect this.”

Gritting his teeth to hold back a visceral reaction to the idea of leaving Stiles like this, Derek fought for the strength to agree with the request.

“I’ve got your number,” Noah reminded him quietly. “I’ve got all of your numbers in case there’s an issue. And if you all want to be patrolling our neighborhood from time to time to make sure there’s no sign of trouble, well, I’m sure as hell not going to argue. But… I think Stiles needs time to… try and adjust to this. And I think he wants to do it without an audience who can smell his emotions. I think we can give him at least that much, don’t you?”

As much as it killed him, Derek grudgingly agreed. He owed Stiles anything he asked for – no matter how much it hurt.




The Sheriff took a sabbatical from work (at least, officially) in order to stay home and care for Stiles. He was still in constant communication with the department, though, to keep an ear out for any potential supernatural issues.

Erica and Boyd returned to school for the last few days of the year with Jackson and Lydia.

Scott was… Well, to be perfectly honest, who the fuck cared?

Peter was disappearing again. Mentioned something about ‘finally realizing what he had come back from the dead to do’ – as if that wasn’t ominous as all hell.

But Derek was too broken to pay it any attention.

Derek was… just lost. He walked through life in a daze, aside from the hours he spent patrolling around the Stilinski household. All of the complex mix of emotions he always felt in relation to Stiles were a whirlwind inside his head, interwoven with grief and regret and longing. His thoughts were always there in Stiles’ room, sitting beside him in the bed so far beyond reach, desperate to connect again somehow.

Chapter Text

15 days after Stiles was released from the hospital, Derek woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of his phone ringing – the Sheriff’s ringtone.

He answered it automatically, a hoarse, “What’s wrong?” leaving his lips before he even had his eyes open.

“Hey, Derek,” Noah greeted quietly. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he answered, which earned a scoff of disbelief from the older man. He rubbed his eyes as he said, “I mean, yes, but… no, it’s no problem. Just… Is Stiles okay? What’s going on?”

The Sheriff exhaled heavily. “There hasn’t been any change,” he replied somberly. “At all. He hasn’t spoken another word since the day they discharged him from the hospital. He’s just been sitting up there, silent as the grave since the day we got back home. He lets me take care of him, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions for my sake. Like he doesn’t care if he ever eats or washes or gets out of that bed. He’s shut down. I can’t get through to him. He just… He’s depressed, I’m sure. I mean, not that I can blame him. But he won’t interact with me at all, so I can’t figure out what’s going on inside his head. He’s just…” Taking a steadying breath, he admitted tearfully, “I can’t reach him, Derek. I need your help. And I know he asked to be left alone, but… will you try?”

Derek was already heading out the door by the time the Sheriff finished making his request.




Entering the Stilinski home through the front door was a jarring experience, but it was not the novelty of walking so boldly through the door that caused Derek to come to an abrupt halt. He had to reach out and grip the doorframe for support as it washed over him – wave after wave of a scent so strong it was suffocating him. His lips parted, eyes welling up and spilling over as he fought to hold it together.

“What is it, son?” Noah asked worriedly.

“He’s not depressed,” Derek struggled to choke out.

“He’s not?” Noah asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “Then what’s wrong?”

The Alpha shook his head, lips working silently as he fought to find his voice. “He’s… He’s fucking terrified,” he whispered in horror and had to press a hand over his mouth to hold back a sob.

The entire house was utterly saturated with the scent of Stiles’ terror. It was pervasive – seeped into every inch of the home’s interior in a way that made it clear this had been the constant state of things. Which meant that, since returning home, Stiles had been sitting up there in his bed… completely still and silent… while perpetually, unwaveringly scared to death.

Stiles had not needed privacy to acclimate to his new reality. He had only sent the pack away so they would not worry about him, Derek realized. So that he would not be a burden to them. But it left him in a constant state of awareness of just how vulnerable he was to attack now. He was up there, defenseless, trapped all alone within the never-ending darkness of his blinded state.


But he was not saying a word.


He was not crying or asking for help.


He was just… keeping it all inside.


Suffering in silence.


Derek did not pause to consider his actions before he was racing up the stairs for the bedroom.

“Stiles,” he greeted on an exhale as he opened the door and crossed the room, wanting to give at least some warning of who was there.

The teen’s breath caught in his throat, and he tensed up – his scent broadcasting his mortification, likely because he knew Derek had smelled his fear.

But Derek did not stop or even slow his approach. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the bed, scooped Stiles into his arms, and curled around him. On a mission, he pushed, nudged, and shifted until Stiles was pressed up against the wall with the Alpha draped over him like a shield.

“I’m here,” Derek whispered, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ hair, desperate to cover him in his scent.

Stiles took a deep breath… then abruptly burst into tears as he melted into Derek’s arms.

“Shh… I’ve got you…” Derek soothed, holding him closer still. “I’ve got you now… I’m right here… You’re safe…”

The Sheriff stood in the doorway biting back tears, watching as the Alpha stirred more of a response than he had managed to in weeks.

Derek did not need to turn and look; he could sense the relief and exhaustion rolling off the elder Stilinski. Twenty minutes later, when Stiles’ sobs had finally started to taper off a bit, he suggested, “Sheriff, why don’t you go get some sleep? I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah sighed heavily. “Thanks, kid.” After a beat, he cleared his throat and teased, “You know… for a big, growly bastard, you’re not half bad.”

Derek chuckled at that, and Stiles surprised them both by joining him. It was the first time he had laughed since he woke in the hospital and the importance of that was not lost on either of them.

The Alpha ran his hand through Stiles’ hair fondly as he answered, “Yeah, your son has told me pretty much the same thing in the past.”

“Well, there you have it,” Noah declared. “Two Stilinskis gave you the seal of approval. No higher praise than that.”

“No, sir. I don’t believe there is,” Derek agreed with a smile.

“Okay… well, if you boys need anything, just give a holler. Good night,” Noah said, pausing to see if his son would react to him leaving.

After a few seconds, Stiles sniffled and said hoarsely, “Night, Dad.”

Noah closed his eyes and let out a shuddering exhale before nodding and leaving the room.




A short while later, Derek said softly, “Your father’s asleep.”

Stiles hummed in reply, arms still wrapped around Derek’s middle and face still tucked up against his chest. The Alpha marveled at their effortless closeness, at how it should have been strange somehow for him to be in this position, but it only felt right. Natural. He brought his hand up and gripped the back of Stiles’ neck before drawing every remnant of pain the medicine was not muting for him. Stiles sighed gratefully in relief.

“Can I ask you why you didn’t have your Dad call us?” Derek finally managed. He knew he failed to keep the hurt from his voice as he insisted, “We didn’t want to stay away from you. We were only trying to respect your wishes. But, God, Stiles… If I’d known you were here feeling like this, you have to know I’d have been right here with you.”

Stiles’ fingers flexed against his back, and he gripped handfuls of his shirt. “I know,” he answered weakly.

“Why didn’t you ask your Dad to reach out?” Derek pressed.

Sniffling and considering his words carefully, Stiles finally replied, “Because I… I didn’t want you to… see.”

“See what?” Derek asked, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

“Me…” Stiles whispered brokenly. “…like this.” He was quiet for a moment before working up the courage to admit, “It’s… humiliating being so fucking useless. I can’t even walk three feet inside of my own bedroom without tripping over something. I mean, I’ve never…” His breath hitched. “I know I’ve never been… worth much. I always knew that. All I really had going for me were my powers of observation and research skills. But now…?” He gave a heartbroken laugh. “I clearly can’t observe shit, man. I can’t even read. I have nothing to offer any of you. And I just figured, the least I can do is stay out of your way from now on, right?”

Derek winced and bit back tears, each word that left Stiles’ lips cutting him deeper. He drew the teen closer, holding him as tightly as he dared.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles,” he gasped wetly. “You’re not… This doesn’t…” He clenched his jaw before swearing, “You are worth so much more than research or what you can offer us, don’t you understand? You’re pack. We would do anything for you. And you… you took so much pain for Erica and Boyd. I heard how you deliberately kept the hunters’ attention on you. How you used the only things you had – your mouth and wit – and you fucking protected them.”

Stiles gave a sad huff. “For all the good it did. They still got tortured, too.”

Cupping Stiles’ cheek, the Alpha asked quietly, “You don’t even know, do you?”

Frowning and subconsciously leaning into the grounding touch, Stiles asked, “Know what?”

“Gerard had already given the order to kill them,” Derek answered plainly.

Stiles sucked in a startled breath.

Derek assured, “The only reason Erica and Boyd are still alive, is because you got so far underneath Gerard’s skin, that he had his lackeys turn their attention back to you.”

“I didn’t know… I just…” Stiles’ forehead creased as he remembered, “I could feel something changed. Like… like they’d gotten bored of torturing them… and I knew… I didn’t know they were already about to… but I… I just knew…” His jaw quivered and he nodded to himself, his scent attesting to his relief as he said, “At least it was all worth something, then. At least… if I had to end up like…  like…” He swallowed hard and winced, ducking his head as he muttered, “Well, at least I made a difference.”

Derek’s face crumpled and he urged Stiles to tip his head back again before pressing their foreheads together. “You have always made a difference,” he choked out. “If it weren’t for you, none of us would be alive right now. You’ve given us all everything you have. Even when we didn’t deserve it. You’ve lied, stolen, fought, risked your life, and fucking bled for every one of us, Stiles. To protect us. Do you not get that that loyalty runs both ways? Fuck, Stiles. I would’ve killed or died for you before this happened, and now? I’m here. I’m right here. You can’t get rid of me. So, whatever happens, whatever your life looks like from here on out, I’m in it, do you understand?”

Stiles took a shaky breath, features tensed as he warred with himself over how to react. “You don’t have to…” His scent soured with doubt and disgust as he bit out, “I don’t want your pity.”

Forehead still pressed to Stiles’, Derek shook his head and insisted, “I could never pity you, Stiles. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. This isn’t pity. This is pack. And you’re mine. So, please, just… let me be here for you?”

Apparently, those were the right words to say, as Stiles broke down and nodded, holding onto Derek for dear life.

Eventually, Stiles whispered the heartbreaking confession, “I’m just so fucking scared nonstop, Derek.”

The Alpha frowned sympathetically and pressed his nose into the teen’s hair, waiting for him to go on.

“Every waking second is torture,” Stiles admitted. “I don’t know how to live like this. I can’t relax. Can’t calm down. I just… I just keep thinking there are hunters creeping up on me and I – I’m even more defenseless than I ever was before because they could be standing here. Right fucking here and I’d have no idea.” He sniffled and gritted his teeth, trying in vain to calm down before he sobbed, “I'm trying... to be alive because that's what my Dad needs... and I forced myself not to ask you or the pack for anything because... because you don’t need me to become just another problem you have to worry about... and I'm trying to just... hold it together for... for everyone... because that's what everyone needs me to do... but... I keep trying and I... I just can't do it. I can't and... and if I can't do or be what anyone needs then... then nobody needs me,” he whimpered. “So, what's the point, Der?” he asked in genuine despair. “Why am I even still here? I'm more trouble than I'm worth. My Dad is worried about me constantly. And now that you know I can’t handle this shit, I’m just going to weigh you all down. I'm nothing but bait. A weak point to be used against all of you. I wish... Fuck, I wish I never woke up in that hospital. I wish I’d died."

"I don't," Derek said, voice hard and determined, willing him to sense the truth of his words. "I don't wish you'd died, Stiles. Jesus, I am so... so unbelievably thankful that you were strong enough to survive… that the Argents didn't take away another person I..."

Too close.

Too close to admitting the truth out loud.

Derek bit his lip and shook his head before amending, "…another person who is important to me... That this life didn’t steal away someone else who is bright... and funny... and innocent. They tried to take you away from us but you... you survived... and you have no idea how fucking amazing that makes you to me. And I don't need you to stay quiet when you need help. I've turned to you so many times when I had absolutely no right to do so, God... So have the rest of the pack. So... anything you need... Even if it's just to have someone literally sit in the corner quietly so you know you're not alone, we'd be happy to do it. I'm not... I'm not the best at words. You know that, but... Stiles, you've gotta know... you've GOTTA know... that I'd... I'd do... anything..."

Stiles was silent for a moment before whispering, “Thank you.” He sniffled before a thought made the corner of his mouth tug upwards in an achingly familiar way.

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. “What?” he asked in a playfully suspicious tone.

A smile spread across Stiles’ lips before he teased, “I was just thinking… you really are the perfect person to call if ever want somebody to sit silently in the corner of my bedroom, you big creeper, you.”

The Alpha completely failed to hold back a laugh before gently cuffing Stiles on the back of the head and grumbling, “Shut up, Stiles.”

That night, they fell asleep clinging to one another for the first time…

Chapter Text

The next day, the Sheriff woke feeling well rested for the first time in over a month. The first thing he did when he got out of bed was pad down the hallway to check on the ‘boys.’  (He pretended not to notice the way Derek’s eyes softened in response each time he referred to them as such.)

The boys were awake, he found, but still curled around one another and clearly in no hurry to rise for the day. Any reservations Noah might have had over the age difference between his son and the Alpha, and the few remaining months before Stiles turned 18, were easily ignored when he overheard Stiles openly laughing in response to something Derek said.

It was enough to cause Noah to stop mid-step, heart clenching with joy and gratitude for the small sign that his boy was still in there somewhere. That Stiles could come back from this.

With a smile on his face, Noah took a long, hot shower, washing away the grief and uncertainty of the past weeks. He dressed and then took his time cooking a veritable feast for breakfast. He had not been able to get Stiles to eat much at all since they arrived home, but he took a gamble that Derek’s presence might change that.

Upon carrying the loaded plates up to Stiles’ room, he was pleasantly surprised to receive his son’s many complaints over the presence of bacon and sausage. He jokingly reminded Stiles that there was a genuine carnivore in the room, so he was only being a good host.

Stiles scowled and hummed skeptically at that… then held out an expectant hand for his plate.

Noah tried not to be too obvious about his amazement, but this was the first time Stiles attempted anything independently since they returned home. He glanced over at Derek, only to find the Alpha giving him an inquisitive look. In the span of less than a second, Derek’s brows rose, and he dipped his head to signal his understanding – clearly able to read the significance of this moment based on the elder Stilinski’s reaction. Not wanting to seem hesitant, Noah kept up the joking conversation as he handed over a plate to Derek first, then one to his son.

Stiles leaned his shoulder against Derek’s, grounding himself as he balanced his plate on his lap and carefully worked through the unfamiliar task of feeding himself blindly. His hands still trembled terribly at times – a symptom the doctors assured was due to the trauma he endured, rather than anything neurological – and he dropped the first piece of bacon on the bed. He let out a heavy sigh, clenching his jaw in frustration.

Noah tensed up, unsure of what to say and afraid that his son would be embarrassed or discouraged.

The Alpha, however, snatched up the bacon and bit into it loudly, earning a yelp of protest from the teen.

“Dude!” Stiles cried indignantly. “That was mine!”

Derek shrugged, the gesture plain to Stiles given the way they were pressed together. “Mine now,” he answered simply as he chewed.

“Oh, nice,” Stiles griped. “Really freakin’ nice, wolfman. Stealing food from a blind guy? I’m sure this is a very proud moment for you right now.”

“Consider it payback for all the dog jokes,” Derek stated flatly. Popping the rest of his pilfered bacon strip into his mouth, he hummed before adding around it, “Standard dog rules apply: You drop it, I’m stealing it.”

Stiles huffed as if annoyed, but the Sheriff noted that the corners of his lips tugged upward as he fought back a smile.

After that, Stiles seemed far more at ease with the process of learning to feed himself sightlessly. When he occasionally dropped food, he and Derek would bicker and tease one another before moving on.




Derek offered to stay with Stiles so that the Sheriff could go to the station and check in. After a million assurances from Stiles that he would be fine, Noah headed out.

The house settled into a comfortable quiet. Derek sat at the desk, scrolling through messages on his phone and touching base with his betas, pretending not to track Stiles’ every movement and emotion.

The Alpha opened a new message to the Sheriff, asking questions about what he could expect and how he might need to assist Stiles. He also asked a question he had not wanted to ask aloud. And just as he had simultaneously hoped and feared, the Sheriff confirmed that Scott had not seen Stiles since before the incident. The idiot was apparently working full time over the summer at the animal clinic – but he had yet to reach out to Stiles beyond a few random texts here and there bemoaning the fact that Allison had left with her father. He never asked where Stiles had been. He expressed zero concern for the fact that they had not been in touch for so long. As usual, he only used Stiles as a place to dump his negative feelings, then moved on.

Derek worked to keep his rage in check. It would do Stiles no good to broach what must still be a painful subject.

Oblivious to his struggles, Stiles – emboldened and calmed by Derek’s presence – was exploring his new reality a bit. He slowly worked his way around his bedroom, head ducked as he concentrated on trailing his fingers along the edges of his furniture and counting steps between objects, ensuring that he had the space mapped out in perfect detail in his mind.

Derek did not offer help. His muscles were tensed ever so slightly, ready to jump up at the slightest indication that Stiles needed him, but he kept relatively quiet. He did intentionally make a bit more noise than usual, though – shifting in the chair, clearing his throat, huffing in amusement at Erica’s threats to Jackson in the group chat they had roped him into. Countless little things to make sure Stiles knew he was still present, still keeping him safe.

He listened as Stiles ventured out into the hallway and to the bathroom. He could not keep a smile from his face when Stiles decided to use the toilet and wash his hands while he was in there. More and more items were being added to his list of reclaimed independence.

A moment later, Stiles shuffled into his bedroom and over to the dresser. His movements were still very cautious, but they were gradually picking up speed and confidence. He took his time pulling out boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt – carefully running his fingers across the front of it to decipher the image there. Tucking the clothes up under his arm, Stiles carefully made his way back out of the room and into the bathroom.

Derek’s eyes widened when he heard the shower turn on. He listened as Stiles opened bottles, sniffing them and verifying the contents of each item before using it.

The Alpha was positively elated. According to what the Sheriff had told him, this was all major progress.

A short time later, Stiles came to stand in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and sighing heavily while twisting his fingers together. His hair was still damp and tousled, but there was color in his cheeks and a determined set to his jaw.

Derek watched him, but said nothing, simply waiting for him to work out whatever thoughts were swirling around in his head.

Finally, Stiles cleared his throat and said, “Hey Siri?”

His phone chimed in response from the bedside table, and Derek’s curiosity was officially piqued. Whatever was coming, it was undoubtedly important.

“I’m blind,” Stiles stated simply, voice not wavering in the least at the bold declaration. “Can you help me set up accessibility features?”

As the phone responded with questions about Stiles’ preferences and walked him through the process, Derek ducked his head, sure that his resulting grin was bright enough that Stiles would somehow be able to feel it.




Derek spent most of his time at the Stilinski residence after that. He slept alongside Stiles each night and held him tightly to ensure he felt safe enough to get a good night’s sleep.

Derek’s feelings for the human had always been bewildering and intense, but – in the wake of nearly losing Stiles – the Alpha abandoned his prior doomed attempts to ignore the way he felt. He admitted to himself just how deeply in love he was with Stiles, and was fully aware of the way his respect for him grew every day as he watched him overcome his fears and teach himself how to live again.

The time was not right to actually pursue anything, of course, but Derek was willing to be honest with himself about where he privately hoped their relationship would someday lead.

At least he knew it was not completely out of the realm of possibility to hope they would one day be more than friends. Given their constant physical closeness, it was impossible to miss the strong scent of their shared affection and arousal. Besides, on a fairly regular basis, the scent of that arousal would peak, and they would wordlessly, strategically reposition themselves mid-cuddle, putting distance between certain areas of their bodies to avoid addressing the elephant in the room.

He even woke once to Stiles jumping out of bed for an unplanned, midnight, cold shower. Derek stayed there, alone on the mattress, initially frowning in confusion as he tried to figure out what happened. His frown quickly melted away and he chuckled to himself, smiling up at the ceiling as he listened to Stiles grumble under his breath in frustration about him being an ‘entirely too damned sexy, snuggly, sniffy Sourwolf.’

So, yeah, Derek knew for a fact the feelings were mutual.

They’d get there eventually.




Each new day brought with it a series of significant milestones and continued steady progress.

Stiles had grown confident enough to venture down the stairs alone, and even started to cook for himself a little. Just scrambled eggs and grilled cheese to start, but he pulled it off without burning himself, which was definitely cause to celebrate.

He had started wearing an earbud in one ear, that way he could listen as his phone or laptop read the words on his screens to him. He researched all of the technology options available to assist him, but balked every time he came upon the pricing. He would find some excuse for why each product would not have worked for him before continuing on, seeking something more affordable. He clearly hoped that Derek would not call him out on the scent of his intense disappointment.

After the third time this happened, Derek fired off a text to the individual most suited to help.

When Peter arrived later that day, loaded down with bags filled with upgrades for all of Stiles’ tech, along with all the latest gadgets for the visually impaired, Stiles huffed and made a valiant attempt to outright refuse the gifts. The eldest Hale, however, simply scoffed and insisted that it was all purely for his own benefit. That he could not bear seeing such outdated electronics still in use and that Stiles would be doing him a favor by retiring the ‘relics’ he had been ‘limping along.’

Struggling to suppress a smile, Stiles grudgingly accepted.

The other betas began dropping in for visits within half an hour of Stiles saying he was ready for it.

Erica and Boyd would curl up in bed with him whenever they came by. They always played movies he knew by heart. It was bittersweet to watch Stiles smile as his eyes flitted around beneath their (still firmly shut) lids, as if he were watching the movie clearly in his mind.

Isaac declared himself in charge of snacks during each film, and he went admittedly overboard every time. It was worth the excess, however, if only for the scent of Stiles’ happiness blending in amongst the smells of popcorn, candy, and pack. Isaac also checked Stiles constantly for pain when he was present, and Derek knew the beta identified with Stiles’ struggle to overcome trauma. It was clear that Stiles was aware, too, as he always leaned into Isaac and thanked him sincerely, squeezing his hand or shoulder in unspoken understanding.

The day after Lydia and Jackson first came to visit, an anonymous donation was made to the Stilinskis (obviously from the Martins and Whittemores) in excess of five years of the Sheriff’s salary. When Derek pressed them about it privately, they admitted that they initially attempted to cover all of Stiles’ outrageously high hospital bills, only to learn that another anonymous donor (obviously the Hales) had already paid them all off.

The Alpha was extremely pleased by how his pack was rallying around Stiles, each providing whatever they could to aid his recovery – be it time, comfort, friendship, or money.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

More and more, Stiles was finding his footing in his new reality. The scent of his fear gradually decreased until it was a low-level simmer – never gone completely, but wonderfully diminished from where it had been.

A little over a month after Derek had first been summoned to the home, he entered Stiles’ bedroom to find the teen standing by the door looking anxious and indecisive.

“What is it?” Derek asked as he approached, studying the teen’s posture curiously.

“Can I… ? Can I show you something?” Stiles whispered anxiously.

“Of course,” Derek answered easily, unsure of what he was agreeing to, but willing to help in any way he could.

Stiles’ lips quivered with restrained emotion as he said, “I haven’t… I mean, aside from when it was just me and the doctors and they needed to confirm that it was, like, permanently lights out, but um… I haven’t actually opened my eyes in front of anyone since…” He swallowed with audible difficulty and struggled to keep it together. “I’ve just been afraid that… I don’t… I don’t know what it looks like and I just… I didn’t want to scare anybody, you know?” he managed tearfully. “I didn’t want to make it, like, harder for everyone to deal with.”

The Alpha tipped his head, expression twisting sympathetically as he closed the remaining distance between them and took Stiles’ hand in his own.

“I didn’t want to hurt my dad,” Stiles admitted. “Or remind Erica and Boyd of what they had to… watch… happen to me… but I just… I wanna know… for myself… just how bad it is. The doctors said it’s, like, internal… damage to the nerves… that the broken parts are inside my brain, you know? But… I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask… but…”

“You can show me,” Derek answered quietly. He brought a hand up to the side of Stiles’ face, cupping his cheek and stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. “Open your eyes, Stiles.”

It took a moment before he worked up the courage to do so.

Derek could not hold back the way he exhaled shakily as Stiles blinked his eyes open.

“Is it that bad?” Stiles asked, scent spiking with despair.

“No,” Derek answered honestly. “Not at all. I just… I haven’t seen your eyes in a long time. They look perfect, Stiles,” he assured. “No visible damage. Same as always.”

Stiles’ jaw trembled as he asked, “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Derek huffed and teased, “Have I ever struck you as the type to lie to spare feelings?”

“You have a good point there,” Stiles laughed. “Seriously, though? It’s… it’s okay? I can… I can keep my eyes open, and it won’t freak anyone out?”

Taking a steadying breath, Derek leaned closer and said softly, “I hope you do keep them open. I’ve missed seeing them. You have beautiful eyes – like sunlight through amber.”

Stiles smiled, but it was drawn tight as his scent betrayed a rapidly rising tide of sorrow.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“I just…” Stiles winced and shook his head as his eyes welled up. “I was just thinking about your eyes and how they’re this crazy amazing golden jade color that changes depending on the weather and your mood and God only knows what other factors and I just… I was thinking about how much I miss your grumpy face,” he said with a wet laugh. After a few seconds, he managed in a strained, quavering voice, “And I’m never gonna see it again, am I? Never gonna see your stupid leather jacket or your scowly brows or your scruff. And it just…” Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, “Sometimes it really hits me, you know? All the things I’ll never get to see again.”

Derek reached down and took Stiles’ hands in his own, slowly guiding them up to his face. “I’m not wearing my ‘stupid’ leather jacket today, but…” He brought Stiles’ fingertips up to his eyebrows, then moved them down to his stubbled jaw. “You can see me like this any time you want, okay?” he whispered.

Stiles sniffled as he nodded and eagerly accepted the offer, slowly and carefully exploring the features of Derek’s face. His eyes moved along with his fingers, a lifetime of having the ability to see informing him of where to direct his gaze, even as it remained utterly useless to him.

It was incredibly intimate in the quiet of the room. Derek’s breathing picked up when Stiles’ fingertips unhurriedly traced the outline of his lips. Stiles gulped as his scent broadcast his longing, and Derek could not help but lick his own lips as he looked down at the human’s cupid’s bow mouth.

“Der…?” he whispered, and the Alpha hummed in reply. “We… shouldn’t… right?” he asked, sounding incredibly unsure, as if floundering to recall a reason to hold back. “I mean you… God, you deserve…” His lips pressed together as his scent soured with sorrow. Eyes growing wet, he shook his head. “N-never mind. Just… forget I said anything,” he insisted, dropping his hands and taking several steps back.

Derek frowned deeply, blinking to clear his thoughts and understand. When he caught on to where Stiles’ thoughts had led him, he stepped forward to regain the closeness. “No,” he said stubbornly. “And you better not have been about to say I deserve someone else.”

Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes, and Derek’s breath caught upon seeing the dearly missed gesture. Unfortunately, it had not been done in the usual sarcastic and playful manner.

“Why? It’s true,” Stiles declared as he ran his hands roughly through his own hair in frustration. “You do deserve someone else. Someone better and not… not broken like this.” His pulse raced as his expression twisted, a panic attack coming on strong and fast. “God, this is… this is all a mistake…” he gasped. “You shouldn’t… You all… You should just leave me alone… I’m not… Shit, I’m gonna end up causing you problems you don’t need. How can a werewolf pack keep an invalid like me around in the middle of a goddamned supernatural warzone? I’m just a weakness that someone is going to exploit and use against you. I’m gonna get you all killed. I’m… Oh, God…”

Derek gripped Stiles by the shoulders, steadying and shushing him, stroking his cheek and attempting to calm him as his breathing grew progressively faster and more labored. “Hey… Hey, no, Stiles. That’s not true. None of that is true. You’re not broken and you’re not a weakness and there is no one better than you. Do you hear me? I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please? You have to…” Stiles whimpered. “It’s the right move, Der. You know it is. It’s the best way to keep everyone safe. You have to leave me alone. Just… God, I never should’ve let you help me…” he insisted tearfully as he tried to pull himself free of the Derek’s hold.

And Derek could not stand it.

The Alpha surged forward without thought, pressing their lips together in a desperate kiss, frantic to calm and sooth him somehow.

Stiles let out a surprised, muffled yelp that quickly changed into a pleased hum as all of the tension bled out of his body.

Derek brought one hand up to cradle the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. His other hand went to the small of Stiles’ back to pull him closer, flush against him. He smiled into the kiss as the human shuddered and sighed in response. He gave in to the urge to lightly suck on Stiles’ plush lips, and earned a long groan for his efforts.

After a moment, he pulled away just far enough to press their foreheads together. “Stiles?” he whispered and grinned at the dazed little ‘hmm?’ that came in reply. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t want anyone else. You’re mine. Not just my pack, but mine. The only reason I haven’t pursued this thing between us yet is because I was giving you time. But if you think for one second that I’m going anywhere, you must be out of your mind.”

Stiles took a moment to collect himself.

Eventually, he snorted and shook his head before informing the Alpha, “You have, frankly, appalling taste in men.”

“Likewise,” Derek retorted with a grin. “Now… come to bed with me so I can cuddle the shit out of you, and we can continue pretending we’re not both insanely turned-on by being pressed together all night,” he urged, nudging him in the direction of the bed.

“So bossy…” Stiles joked as he turned and crossed the room. He climbed up onto the mattress while asking, “Is this what I have to look forward to? A pushy Alpha werewolf for a boyfriend?”

“Hey, consider yourself lucky. I personally have a bratty, mouthy, human boyfriend to look forward to,” Derek answered playfully as he pulled his Henley off over his head. Every night he had slept in Stiles’ bed, he wore at least a t-shirt and boxers. In that moment, however, in the wake of Stiles’ fears and attempts to isolate himself again, Derek needed the reassurance of skin-to-skin contact. His wolf was absolutely fixated on the instinct to rub his scent all over the human to offer safety and comfort.

Stiles drew a shaky breath and said, “Okay, full disclosure? I can totally hear when you take off your clothes and it is legit auditory porn.”

Derek let out a deep chuckle and shook his head. “I thought we were still pretending not to be turned-on?” he asked in amusement before reaching for his jeans.

He unbuttoned them, then paused, watching Stiles. The human had tilted his head to the side in interest, amber eyes tracking the movements he could not see (but was clearly envisioning.) Derek’s eyes narrowed, cataloging Stiles’ reaction as he slowly unzipped his pants. Stiles bit his bottom lip and winced through the entire motion, clearly able to detect it with ease, even from across the room.

“Your hearing is getting better,” Derek noted in approval before kicking off his jeans and climbing up onto the bed.

“Sense of smell, too,” Stiles added as Derek slid in beside him and pulled him close. “Hooooly shit…” he murmured and shuddered as he slid his hands up Derek’s back. His voice was shaky as he said, “I can smell you now when you walk into the room. I can tell it’s you by your footsteps, but if you’re walking quiet, I recognize your scent first.” He brought his nose up to the side of Derek’s neck, breathing in deeply and humming in approval.

Derek let out a low groan and clenched his jaw as he struggled not to respond. “That’s not fair,” he chided with a smile.

“Oh, really?!” Stiles scoffed. “Tell me all about it! Did you know you snuffle my neck while we’re sleeping?”

Derek’s eyes widened. “Do I really?” he asked with a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, ya really freaking do,” Stiles confirmed. “Do you know how many times I’ve woken up with a raging hard-on because your nose has a mind of its own?”

Derek burst out laughing at that, not having realized this was an issue, let alone a recurring one. “Is that why you jumped up for a cold shower that night?”

Duh,” Stiles answered. “Here – close your eyes. Tell me if you’d do any better if you woke up to this…”

Against his better judgement, Derek played along and allowed himself to be pushed over onto his back on the bed. He closed his eyes, then sucked in a breath when Stiles began leaning over him and sniffing at his throat – leaving a trail of hot, wet bursts of breath in his wake as he moved back and forth from Derek’s pulse point to the nape of his neck, then up to his ear before starting all over again. For good measure, Stiles began letting out little muffled groans and (adorable) mimicries of growls.

“Unnfffuuck… “ Derek moaned and tipped his head back, body shaking with want as he grabbed handfuls of the sheets. “You should stop,” he warned in a deep, rough tone.

“You should stop,” Stiles echoed impishly before dragging his tongue over the Alpha’s Adam’s apple.

Derek gritted his teeth and groaned as he shifted his hips upwards restlessly, instinctively seeking out friction. “Stiles… your father will be home in a bit, and I really don’t want to have to face him if you make me come in my boxers.”

Stiles laughed before smiling against his throat. “Okay, okay. I’ll have mercy on you, big guy. But we are totally having a conversation about this soon – preferably when no one else is here, hopefully ending with a lot of nudity and me finally losing my v-card.”

Derek froze – brows drawing together as he looked at Stiles’ face in wounded disbelief.

Stiles tilted his head curiously, trying to understand the reason for Derek’s rigidity. His lips parted when he caught on. “Oh… I get it. You… You didn’t realize, huh?” he asked, attempting to hide his sadness behind a smile. “Yeah, I, uh… didn’t get to have that particular experience before losing my vision, so… I mean… yeah that pretty epically sucks for me.”

It took a lot to hold back tears as Derek shook his head. “Fuck,” he breathed before pulling Stiles closer and wrapping him up in his arms. He pressed his lips to Stiles’ brow before whispering, “When we get there… I’m gonna make it so good for you, I promise. I’ll make you forget about everything other than the way I make you feel.”

Stiles let out a tremulous breath before grinning and nodding. “I intend to hold you to that.” He bit his lip, getting that nervous, insecure look on his face again as he pondered something.

Derek pulled back enough to study his expression. “What is it?” When the human swallowed hard and shook his head, the Alpha held him by the chin and insisted, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s just…” Stiles sighed heavily and winced. “I’m all scarred up, man. I can feel it all over my chest and stomach. And my back must be even worse. I know how fucking horrible it must look. And you… You’re freaking flawless,” he declared, tracing his fingertips over the hard lines of Derek’s chest. “What if…?” His jaw clenched and shook as he fought to control his emotions. “What if… when you see it… it’s too much to…? What if you…? It might…” He shook his head as he insisted, “You can’t want me the way I want you, Der. You’re gonna be… sad or disgusted or angry every time you look at me.”

Derek gritted his teeth, swearing for the millionth time to track Gerard down and eviscerate him. For now, though, he needed to focus on assuaging Stiles’ fears.

“I bet you’re wrong,” he declared determinedly. “And I can prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Stiles’ lips parted as he tensed up, clearly torn over whether or not to face his fears. After a moment, he blew out a breath and gave an anxious nod. “Okay. Okay… yeah. Yes.”

Derek grinned and urged Stiles to lie back on the bed. He knew this was going to be difficult – not only emotionally, but also because he did not want them to get carried away and go all the way just yet. He wanted to plan out their first time and give that experience all the care and attention it deserved.

He slowly moved his way down the bed, bringing his face level with Stiles’ hips. He had to stop and close his eyes for a second, already struggling with the overwhelming desire to strip the human down and claim him. Instead, he reached out and slowly inched the material of Stiles’ shirt up a little, revealing a tantalizing strip of his bare stomach. He could see a few scars already, but front and center was the thick, dark line of Stiles’ treasure trail – a feature Derek had caught precious few glimpses of in the past. He let out a whisper of a groan at finally being able to see it up close. He leaned forward, bringing his nose to the coarse hair and nuzzling into it, allowing his lips to drag across the warm, soft flesh of his stomach.

Stiles let out a keen, trembling as his hips rose from the bed slightly, wordlessly urging the Alpha on.

Rather than venturing further south, as Derek would very much love to do in that moment, he forced himself to continue charting an ascending course, pushing Stiles’ shirt up at a torturously slow pace. He pressed progressively hungrier kisses into each new bit of skin that was revealed to him.

The scars were, admittedly, extreme. Thickly gnarled, red, and angry. Horrific memories etched into Stiles’ skin, spread across his torso like a web. And they did, unfortunately, still evoke many powerful and deeply unpleasant emotions in Derek – each mark was further evidence of the ways he failed to protect Stiles.

But he determinedly pushed those negative thoughts aside, refusing to ruin this moment for either one of them. He focused instead on the heated scent of Stiles’ intense arousal mixing with his own, the taste of his soft skin as Derek licked and sucked, and the little sighs and moans Stiles rewarded him with.

“So fucking sexy,” Derek rumbled before pausing to draw one of his nipples into his mouth.

Stiles hissed and bucked his hips in response, earning a deep chuckle from the Alpha before he did it again.

He peeled the t-shirt off over Stiles’ head and tossed it aside, then slowly, purposefully, with his hands bracketing Stiles’ head, he lowered his body. They groaned in unison at the sensation of their bare chests and stomachs pressing together.

“Oh my God,” Stiles panted as he brought his arms up around Derek’s back and urged him closer. “Come ‘ere… Wanna feel you…” he pleaded.

Derek ducked his head, capturing Stiles’ mouth with his own. He contented himself with pressing their lips together sweetly for a moment.

When Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s hips and bucked up into him, all bets were off. The Alpha growled and gripped Stiles’ chin, holding him in place as he licked his way into his mouth, demanding submission. Stiles moaned wantonly and gave it.

The mood shifted instantly, and the pair fell into frantic, delicious rutting. Hands were wandering over every bare inch of skin, groping and exploring and appreciating. The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure – wet kisses as lips and tongues intertwined, hitched breaths and deep moans.

Derek chuckled and shook his head before saying breathlessly, “Told you I’m not coming in my boxers…” Slowly, giving Stiles a chance to protest if he wanted, he reached down for the button of Stiles’ jeans. “Can I…?” he asked.

Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “Holy fucking Hale balls, YES. You absolutely fucking CAN,” he declared emphatically.

Derek laughed loudly at that and, with a bright smile, kissed him. “God, you’re ridiculous,” he muttered, kissing him again as he added, “And perfect.”

Bracing himself with one hand on the bed beside Stiles’ head, he unfastened Stiles’ pants and pushed them and Stiles’ boxers down out of the way. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth when he got a look at his cock.

“Mmm… can’t wait to get you in my mouth,” he rumbled, earning a whimper from the human. He grinned and arched a brow as he said, “But we’re both too close for that. So, instead… how about…” He pushed his own boxers down, freeing his cock before rolling his hips down, allowing it to drag over Stiles’.

“Hnnggggffuuuccckk…” Stiles gasped, digging his shaking fingers into Derek’s shoulders. “Der… fuck… n-not gonna last, dude,” he insisted, shaking his head frantically.

Derek fought to hold back a laugh as he chided, “Don’t call me dude – especially not when I’m about to get you off.”

Stiles laughed breathlessly at that and said, “Fine… how about, ‘babe’?” With a flash of mischief in his unseeing eyes, he lowered his voice and roughly said, “As in, Please make me come, babe…’ or ‘I need you, babe…’ or ‘Wanna feel you come all over me, babe…’”

The Alpha snarled and took their cocks in his big fist, giving them slow strokes that had them both groaning and bucking into his grip.

“Babe works for me…” Derek whispered. “What should I call you then, hmm? My brat? Baby boy? Sweetheart?” He grinned when he heard the stutter in Stiles’ heartbeat. “Ooh, that’s it, huh? You like sweetheart?” He kissed him gently, then pulled back just far enough that their lips brushed as he purred, “You’re so hard for me… so nice and wet for me, sweetheart. Leaking like a faucet, you want me so much…” He slowly began building speed as he stroked them together, their precum making the glide slippery and perfect. “That’s it… So good for me,” he praised as Stiles let out breathy little moans. “Want me to make you feel good, sweetheart? Huh? Want me to mark you up with my come? Gonna make a pretty mess for me?”

Stiles gasped and cried out as his body went rigid. His expression twisted in a silent scream, and he held on tightly enough to bruise as he came, spilling all over Derek’s fist and cock.

“Mmm, that’s it…. Fuck, that’s it, Stiles,” Derek groaned. “God, look at you… So fucking hot…” he swore, hand working faster until he was grunting and shaking through his own release.

“Oh fuck yessss…” Stiles hissed as he felt Derek’s hot come splattering up the length of his stomach and chest. “That is the sexiest thing literally ever,” he declared as he caught his breath. “We are doing this, like, every fucking day from this day forward. Multiple times a day. I demand it. Well done, Hale! Well. Done. All the kudos. 10 of 10, would frott again.”

Derek laughed and shook his head, licking his lips as he ran his fingers through their come and massaged it into Stiles’ pale and speckled, smooth and scarred skin.

Recalling the reason for their current position and what he had set out to prove, he kissed the human’s forehead, then nose, then lips, before whispering ardently, “You’re beautiful, Stiles. I want you exactly the way you are. Any way I can have you. You’re strong. You’re perfect. You’re a survivor. And you’re all mine. Do you understand?”

Stiles let out a shuddering breath and nodded. “I think I’m starting to catch on,” he said. A few seconds later, he gave a smirk and added, “You may need to do that a few more times tonight, though, just to be sure I really grasp the concept, you know?”

Derek snorted and covered Stiles’ face with his clean hand, smushing it lightly as he huffed, “Shut up, Stiles.”

The human let out a loud, bright laugh as he shoved Derek’s hand aside. “Oh, hush, grumpy butt. You know you like it,” he said haughtily. “You must, otherwise you’d have never put up with me this long. And, oh – hey, just for the record? The whole ‘my brat’ thing would totally work, too. Like… just thinking about you saying it is ridiculously sexy. Seriously. It will definitely feature in every single spank session I have for the foreseeable future. And ‘baby-boy’ would work, too. Honestly, anything will work because, holy fuck, who knew you were gonna be a dirty talker? It’s always the quiet ones, though, isn’t it? You just feel free to talk my ear off in bed, babe, I am HERE for it.”

Derek chuckled and shook his head, leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his shirt. He used it to wipe up the mess coating Stiles’ front before tossing it into the hamper. He took a moment to check his phone, finding a message from the Sheriff that made him sigh in relief.

“Sleep now?” Stiles asked curiously when he heard Derek turn off the lights.

“Mmm… yes, sleep now,” Derek agreed as he pulled back the covers and waited for Stiles to shimmy his way beneath them. He climbed in after him, both of them wearing only their boxers and a smile. “Your Dad texted – he’s going to be at the station for a few more hours. Means we don’t need to get dressed right away. Which is good, because I’m not ready to let you cover up yet.” He reached over and yanked Stiles across the mattress, sighing happily as he wrapped his arms around him.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Stiles declared contentedly as he burrowed under Derek’s arms and nuzzled into his bare chest.

“Me, too,” the Alpha agreed, pressing kisses to his brow.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

As was always the way in Beacon Hills, things were quiet… until they suddenly weren’t. Bodies started turning up (with Lydia stumbling upon more than her fair share of them because - surprise! She's apparently a banshee), and before long, the Sheriff had to accept that his supposed ‘sabbatical’ was over.

Stiles assured him that it was fine. He had Derek to keep him company and safe, after all.

The new school year began shortly thereafter, and with it came the return of an unwelcomed reminder of past trauma: Scott Motherfucking McCall.

Evidently, it took the entirety of summer vacation before the asshole finally noticed that – hey… he hadn’t actually seen Stiles in a while… and he’d never received any response to his occasional (fully self-absorbed) texts. Not to give credit where it was undue, though. Scott’s revelation was likely only triggered by Allison’s return and his resulting need to whine endlessly to someone about it. Naturally, he sought out his usual victim.

When Scott made the mistake of approaching Erica and asking whether she had seen Stiles around, she promptly wolfed out and decked him hard enough to drive him through a wall and knock him unconscious for a solid 20 minutes. Lydia texted to let them know what was going on, and Derek was torn. He wanted to go to the school to calm his betas and ensure there would not be any problems, but he did not want to leave Stiles alone.

Stiles told him that he was being ridiculous. He called his father and confirmed that the Sheriff would be home in half an hour. Insisting that he would be fine for such a short period of time, Stiles all-but shoved Derek out the door.

The Alpha scowled and sulked and dragged his feet before finally agreeing to head out (after approximately 25 ‘one last’ kisses and at least as many assurances that Stiles would call if there were any issues.)




The Alpha entered the classroom where his pack had gathered and laid eyes on Scott for the first time since the night of the Gerard incident. His lips curled back over his teeth as he growled. It took every ounce of self-restraint Derek possessed to resist gutting the little prick.

“Derek, what the hell?” Scott had the audacity to demand when he saw him approaching.

The Alpha snarled and pointed at him in warning. “Shut your fucking mouth before I bury my fist in it, Scott,” he snapped as his eyes flashed red. “You don’t get to speak to me after what you did, and you damned sure don’t get to ask anyone about Stiles.”

“What?! What do you mean?” Scott asked with his face contorting in genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be allowed to ask about my own best friend?”

Derek’s derisive laugh was echoed by Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson.

“Your ‘best friend’? Really?” Derek challenged. “When’s the last time you even saw Stiles, huh?” He clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head, giving the outward appearance of calm and patience as he said, “Go on. Think about it. I’ll wait.”

It was borderline painful to watch Scott’s face scrunch up in attempted recollection.

After a silent moment, Jackson scoffed in amazement. “Jesus, look at him… You can almost see the last two lonely brain cells struggling to connect.”

Scott scowled over at him before turning his glare back to Derek and grudgingly admitting, “I… I don’t know. I guess… maybe the night of the last game?”

“Three months, Scott,” Derek announced in barely contained fury. “That’s how long it’s been since you even pretended to give a shit about what was going on with your ‘best friend.’ And you have no fucking clue what he’s been through since then, do you? You were so wrapped up worrying about your stupid, childish, doomed relationship that you couldn’t be bothered to pay him any attention. Not before Gerard and not since.”

Scott blinked at him in blatant incomprehension before waving his arms in frustration and shouting, “I have no idea what you’re even talking about!”

Derek closed the distance between them in an instant, eyes blazing crimson and fangs dropping as he screamed directly into Scott’s face, “THAT’S THE FUCKING POINT!” He gripped the idiot by the throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off his airway. He took deep satisfaction in the way Scott’s face quickly turned red. He ignored the beta’s pathetic attempts to get free as he snarled, “You wanna know where Stiles is? Huh? Why he’s not at school? It’s because he’s fucking BLIND, you stupid piece of shit! Gerard Argent tortured him and left him for dead behind a fucking dumpster! It’s taken all this time for Stiles to get to a good place mentally and physically and I will NOT allow you to jeopardize his healing because you suddenly remembered he exists.”

With a forceful shove, he sent Scott to the ground, sprawled out, gasping and coughing.

“No… that’s not… that can’t be…” Scott wheezed.

Derek let loose a thunderous growl as he recalled, “Funny, that’s pretty much the same thing he said when he found out you’d been working behind his back with the guy who tortured him damned near to death.”

The Alpha placed his boot in the center of Scott’s chest and pressed down to hold him still.

“You don’t go anywhere near Stiles ever again,” Derek warned. “You don’t go to his house. You don’t call him. You don’t text him. You leave the Sheriff alone. Just do what you do best – forget they even exist. Because if I ever catch you anywhere near either one of them? I’m gonna tear you apart with my bare hands.” He took a moment to appreciate the look of dawning terror in Scott’s eyes before turning and looking over at Lydia. “You’ve got the Sheriff on the phone?”

“She does,” Noah confirmed over the speaker as Lydia held her cell phone up. “I heard the whole thing and I agree 100% with everything you’ve said, son. And Scott? If you really wanna know what happened to my boy as a result of your arrogance and stupidity, go on and ask your Mom. I just texted her and told her she had my permission to give you all the gruesome details. As far as I’m concerned, you should know what you let happen. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere beneath all that selfishness and immaturity, you could actually manage to feel guilt over it. Beyond that? You can go to Hell for all I care. Stay away from Stiles. Stay away from me. And stay the hell away from our pack.”

Derek could not begin to hold back the proud grin that spread across his face in response to those words.

The others exchanged grins of their own at hearing the Sheriff claiming them all.

The Alpha gave one last press of his boot to the moron’s chest, glaring down at Scott’s stunned face as he said, “You heard the Sheriff. Go to Hell, Scott.” And with that, he drew back his leg and kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him out.

“Didn’t that feel great?” Erica asked with a contented sigh. “I can’t even describe the pure joy that washed over me when I punched his lights out.”

Derek huffed a laugh and shook his head at his beta. He held out his hand for Lydia’s phone before asking the Sheriff, “Are you almost to the house?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” Noah answered.

“Okay, I’m heading back now. See you there,” Derek said before ending the call.




It took Derek fifteen minutes to reach the Stilinski residence. The second he exited the vehicle he could already tell something was off.

“…really not a big deal…” he heard Stiles insisting, but his voice was shaky and weary like it always was after a panic attack.

Derek’s brows lowered in concern as he walked up the driveway.

“…just don’t say anything, okay? I don’t want this to be a whole thing. Please, Dad?” Stiles asked, sounding borderline desperate for his father to agree with this.

He could hear the Sheriff sigh. “Okay… if that’s what you want. But, come on. You have to know Derek would never think any less of you for this, kid. You panicked. It happens. And, especially in your case, it’s completely understandable.”

Stiles huffed a sad laugh and said, “Of course, he won’t think less of me – he’ll just be afraid to ever leave me alone again. I can’t… Listen, I’m enough of an inconvenience for everyone as it is. Let’s not add ‘can’t go a half an hour by himself without panicking and hiding’ to the list, okay?”

Derek came to a complete halt, hand still outstretched for the front door. He barely heard Noah’s insistence that Stiles was not an inconvenience. He took a shuddering breath as he worked out what must have happened. The thought of Stiles, alone in his perpetual darkness, terrified to the point where he hid somewhere in the house was fucking heartbreaking.

The Alpha had to work to calm himself down, not wanting it to be obvious that he had overheard this conversation. He lost a few minutes, and by the time he checked back in with the conversation happening upstairs between father and son, they had moved on to a new subject.

“…mind if I ask why you’ve never been willing to discuss taking the bite?” Noah asked cautiously. He rushed to assure, “I’m not trying to pressure you or talk you into it or anything like that. I’m just… curious, I guess. I know you must have a good reason to be so adamant about it. Would you be willing to explain it to me?”

Derek’s entire body went rigid as he listened carefully, barely breathing for fear he might miss Stiles’ response. He felt guilty for eavesdropping, but he had personally wondered this exact thing a million times and had never wanted to press the issue.

When Stiles finally spoke, his voice was quiet and hesitant. “I guess… at first… I really didn’t believe that I was gonna survive. Like, no matter what, you know? I figured… I was so damned fragile by that point, so far gone, that if Der bit me, I’d only die faster. And I… I wanted to see you one last time, if I could… wanted to make sure you didn’t blame yourself or something stupid like that when it wasn’t your fault. But then… I woke up in the hospital… and I just… I had survived somehow. And I honestly was not happy about that fact. But, even if my life was a waking nightmare, it didn’t change the fact that I was alive. And I thought… ‘Jesus Christ, what if, after all of this, I ask Derek to bite me… and I die?’” He blew out an overwhelmed breath and asked, “Dad, do you have any idea what that would do to Derek?”

The Alpha had to lean against the door for support as his legs grew weak.

“It would destroy him,” Stiles insisted tearfully (and correctly, Derek knew.) “He would shoulder the guilt as if he’d murdered me in cold blood. And after everything he’s been through… everything he’s lost… I just can’t add myself to that list. No matter how hard it is to live like this, it’s easier for me than my dying from the bite would be for Derek. I just… I refuse to ever do that to him, Dad.”

If it was at all possible for Derek to love this stupidly brave, selfless human any more than he already did, this moment would have guaranteed it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he walked back to his car and opened and shut the door with more force than necessary. He listened to the way Stiles’ heartbeat jumped in response.

“Let’s just drop it all, okay?” Stiles asked his father purposefully.

“Already dropped,” Noah answered somewhat hoarsely. “Love you, kiddo,” he said, voice muffled as they hugged.

“Love you, too, Dad,” Stiles answered.

Derek entered the house and jogged upstairs to Stiles’ room. He summoned all of his past experience in masking his true emotions in order to appear unaffected by everything he had overheard.

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile, crossing the space and ruffling Stiles’ hair before kissing his forehead. They were already past hiding their easy affection from Stiles’ father. “Did you behave while we were gone?” he teased just as he would if everything was fine… if he wasn’t able to smell the lingering scent of Stiles’ terror or note how it was strongest in the direction of Stiles’ closet where he must have been cowering

“Hell no,” Stiles scoffed as he eagerly accepted the kiss. He tipped his head back expectantly and waited for another kiss to be pressed to his lips before continuing. “I invited half the school over for the world’s fastest kegger. Perfect location – no one would ever expect it to happen at the Sheriff’s house.”

“Criminal mastermind, this one,” Noah joked in amusement as he gave Derek a purposeful look.

And in that moment, Derek knew… the elder Stilinski had been aware of Derek’s arrival and had asked Stiles that question about his decision not to accept the bite specifically so that Derek could hear his reasoning.

With a slightly watery gaze, he dipped his head to the Sheriff in unspoken gratitude. Judging by the tight-lipped smile and nod he received in response, the man was well aware of what Derek was silently thanking him for.

“So… Scott finally remembered I exist, huh?” Stiles asked in a slightly quavering voice. “How’d that go?”

Derek turned his attention back to him, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. He reached out and squeezed his hand. “Not well for him,” he assured, earning a chuckle from Stiles. “Don’t worry about him, though, okay? He’s been sufficiently warned to leave you alone.”

The Sheriff added, “Besides, Melissa’s aware of the fact that he is only just now seeking you out. I’d say she’s going to have him on an exceedingly short leash.”

Stiles hummed in agreement before nodding and ducking his head.

“Hey… you hungry?” Derek asked, bumping their shoulders together and studying Stiles’ profile. He could smell the traces of nervous sweat on him, and it was driving him crazy. His instincts were in overdrive, desperate to provide comfort.

“I could eat,” Stiles said, smiling up at him tentatively.

Derek reached over and traced his thumb beneath Stiles’ eye, willing the lingering sadness and fear to dissipate. “Come on. I’ll make us some dinner.”

“Yesssss,” Stiles groaned happily.

The Alpha laughed, deeply pleased by his enthusiasm, and tugged his hand before leading them out of the room.



AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

Derek did his best to resist the urge to become even more protective of Stiles after that day. It was hard. Damned near impossible, in fact. But he recalled Stiles’ worries that he would respond in such a way, and used it to keep himself in check.

(He still always made sure someone else was at the house any time he left for longer than half an hour, though.)




Very high up on the list of ways Derek never wanted to wake up in the morning was to a text from Peter that read simply, ‘We have a problem.’

As soon as Jackson and Isaac arrived at the house, Derek headed out the ruins of his former family home.

There, he stood beside his Uncle and stared at the symbol painted on the door. His jaw clenched as he considered the implicit threat of its placement. Part of him wanted to take Stiles and the rest of his pack and run as far away as they could.

He knew, however, that the threat would only follow. There would be no escaping this.

“Do we tell them?” Peter asked gravely. His expression grew harder as he pressed, “More importantly… do we tell him?”

Derek took a deep, slow breath and closed his eyes as he exhaled. It was not an easy question to answer. Stiles already lived in a precarious state, constantly teetering on the edge of near-debilitating terror. What good could come of informing him of such a deadly threat?

“Not yet,” Derek finally decided. “It won’t do any good to give him one more thing to worry about. The others…” He sighed and considered it before nodding and saying, “I’ll let them know.”




The Alpha twins were at the high school. Between their unsettling smiles and Scott’s general existence, the betas were constantly on edge.

The Sheriff was spending more and more time at the station.

And Stiles was growing increasingly suspicious.

Late one night, Derek woke to find Stiles wide awake, lying silently beside him, eyes open and staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.

“What is it?” he whispered, raising up onto his elbow and studying Stiles’ expression.

“Just wondering when you’re finally gonna tell me what’s going on,” Stiles answered.

Derek sighed and swallowed hard, leaning in and nuzzling the side of his neck. “I don’t want you to worry.”

Stiles snorted. “Too late, Sourwolf. Dad’s having an alarm installed on the house and you’re all practically vibrating with tension 24/7. Consider me officially worried.”

The Alpha frowned deeply. “There’s… a threat in the area. But it hasn’t made any moves just yet. At this point, we’re just waiting. All we can do is be careful and try to be ready.”

Stiles chewed his bottom lip in consideration. “You’re making sure the puppies never go anywhere alone, right?”

Derek smiled and kissed Stiles sweetly before answering with a wry, “Yes, dear.”

Stiles hummed and nodded before asking, “Does it have anything to do with the murders my Dad’s been investigating?”

Derek shook his head. “Not that I can tell.”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered so far, they’re druidic sacrifices of some kind,” Stiles stated confidently. “So, if they’re not from the threat you’re currently watching out for, they’re definitely from a separate, likely just as dangerous threat.”

“How would you know about the murders?” Derek asked suspiciously, arching a brow.

Stiles scoffed and motioned to his eyes. “Blind, not useless, big guy. I hacked into the police database.”

“You what?” Derek blurted out, choking back a laugh. “Stiles! How the hell did you manage that?”

Stiles shrugged as if it was no big deal. “What? Peter hooked me up with more than enough tech to make it easy. I already knew how to do it, I just needed help overcoming the whole not being able to see thing. So… yeah. Surprise! I’m back in the game, babe,” he declared with a grin.

Derek quickly ducked in and captured Stiles’ mouth, wanting to taste that victorious, little grin for himself. “God, you’re amazing,” he praised.

“Meh, I have my moments,” Stiles conceded in amusement. His smile slowly faded before he asked quietly, “Should I be afraid of what’s coming?”

“No,” Derek insisted, pressing gentle kisses all over his face. “Whatever happens, we’ll all face it together.” He paused, stomach twisting at the thought of danger coming anywhere near Stiles again. He gazed down at him for a long moment before whispering, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Stiles’ eyes glittered with tears in the moonlight filtering in through the window as he whispered back confidently, “I know.” He lifted his head up off the pillow and kissed Derek softly before whispering, “And I love you, too.” A playful smile spread across his lips as he added, “Even if you are a bossy, blanket-stealing, grumpy-butt sometimes.”

Derek laughed as Stiles pushed him over onto his back and climbed on top of him. They still had not gone all the way yet, but neither of them was in any rush. As Stiles kissed and nipped his way down Derek’s bare chest and stomach, bringing that wickedly talented mouth ever closer to its destination, the Alpha groaned and had zero regrets about their unhurried pace.




Everything came to a head on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday afternoon. It wasn’t even overcast. Bright, sunny, middle of the day… No indication whatsoever that the shit was about to hit the fan.  

Derek had to rush to the high school after Ethan and Aiden successfully goaded Erica and Jackson into a fight. (Which, to be honest, was not really a challenge given both betas’ notoriously short fuses.)

The Sheriff was at the house with Stiles, and Peter was on his way there, so Derek was not as anxious as he normally would have been in this situation.

But then another body was found – this time in the middle of town. By the twentieth phone call Noah received in under ten minutes, Stiles told him to just go. They clearly needed him at the scene. He would just set the alarm and Peter would be there in a few minutes, so it was fine.


And, of course, it was not fine.


Because Peter was intercepted by Ennis and, after a brief, brutal attack, only barely managed to escape with his life by outsmarting the Alpha. 

Derek was standing in front of Ethan and Aiden when his phone rang, and he grudgingly answered with a terse, “This conversation isn’t private, Peter.”

“Ennis…” his Uncle wheezed. “…they’re making a move…”

Derek’s heart was INSTANTLY in his throat as his eyes snapped to the now-grinning twins.

“Are you safe?” Derek somehow managed to ask.

“Just check on him,” Peter insisted before ending the call.

Before Derek could even attempt to contact Stiles, his phone rang again. This time, it was the Sheriff. As soon as he brought the phone to his ear, he was greeted by the sound of sirens blaring and an engine doing likely double the speed limit.

“Stiles isn’t answering his phone!” Noah shouted. “House alarm’s been tripped. Peter’s not there and Stiles isn’t answering his phone, Derek!”

The twins were already long gone.

Derek did not even need to turn to look behind him to know his entire pack was racing for the Stilinski residence.




Derek reached the house first, barreling through the front door and allowing his beta shift to take hold the second he passed the threshold. He let out an enraged roar when he caught the scent coming from the kitchen.

Blood… from Stiles… but also from another Alpha

He could hear the Sheriff’s vehicle screeching to a halt in the driveway and his betas following after him as he raced into the kitchen. His glowing red gaze swept over every detail, painting the scene with ease even as he wanted to deny it.

Stiles had been cooking… He had been attacked from behind and used a knife to stab his attacker… The dent in the front of the freezer carried a splotch of Stiles’ blood – undoubtedly where his head was slammed in order to incapacitate him.



The howl of unbridled fury that left the home could be heard for miles in all directions.




Kali grinned over at the unconscious human slumped in the passenger seat. “Guess that means we picked the right target, huh?” she laughed.




Stiles woke up on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Never a pleasant experience. Even less pleasant when his surroundings were completely foreign.

He was alone. His head was throbbing. And he had no idea who had even attacked him.

Struggling to breathe, he slid off of the soft surface he had been lying atop and dropped down onto a cold, concrete floor. He could feel that the room he was in was small. Smaller than his bedroom by at least half. His hands shook as he traced the piece of furniture he had just vacated.

A cot.

In a chilly room with concrete floors.

A cell.

He could not hold back the whimper that tore through his throat because oh my God he had been taken again and was being held in a cell by God only knew who or what and he couldn’t fucking see and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself or fight or have any hope at all of finding a way to escape and he had no idea whether or not Derek even knew he was gone yet let alone whether or not he would be able to find him and

He slowly made his way across the space on his hands and knees, finding the corner of the room furthest from what felt like the only entry point. He collapsed with his back in the corner and hugged his knees to his chest, ducking his head and sobbing as he struggled to keep it together.

But he just couldn’t because his brain was rather unhelpfully recalling in vivid detail all of the torture he had survived last time he was captured and the burning and cutting and bleeding and laughing and electrocuting and all he kept wondering was, what would they take if he managed to live through it this time? They had already taken his sight. What if this time they left him deaf, too? Or paralyzed? Or brain damaged?

Stiles gripped his hair and broke down, giving in to the mother of all panic attacks, hyperventilating so severely that he lost consciousness.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

Derek was losing it.

His pack was rallying around him, but his wolf was utterly inconsolable and out for blood.

Somehow in his wild fury, as the hours passed without a lead, Derek unexpectedly managed to achieve a full shift for the first time. He did not take even a moment to marvel over the newness of being in wolf form. The sun had set, and under the cover of darkness, he raced throughout the entirety of Beacon Hills – howling mournfully for Stiles while desperately chasing any hint of his scent.

The Sheriff – only momentarily stunned by witnessing his future son-in-law turn into a massive freaking wolf – had already ensured that any reports of said wolf would be downplayed. It wasn’t really a wolf, he insisted. Just a wolfdog with a history of exemplary behavior who had gotten separated from its owner. No need to panic or call in animal control.

When Chris Argent made the exceedingly unwise decision to track down the Sheriff and offer his assistance in whatever was going on, he ended up knocked flat on his ass.

Clutching his jaw, Chris looked up at Noah in shock.

The Sheriff pointed down at him furiously and informed him, “Don’t think for one second that I am ever going to forget the hand your family has played in – not only Stiles’ suffering, not only the murder of the Hale family – but also the torture and deaths of more innocents than I even want to think about. So, if you want to help me hunt down the Alpha pack and find my son? Fine. But you report to me, follow my orders, and keep in mind that I still hold your family accountable for what happened to my boy. In fact, you know what?” He turned and motioned to Peter. “You get to have an escort tonight, because I honestly don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” When Peter stepped up alongside the Sheriff with an unsettling grin on his face, Noah said, “Peter? Keep an eye on him, please. If he even looks like he’s thinking of pulling anything? Kill him.”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff, sir,” Peter said in delighted approval and gave a mock salute. He added with a playful batting of his eyelashes, “I must say, I am certainly a fan of this all-new, take-charge, willing-to-kill-Argents side of you.”

Noah rolled his eyes and warned, “Shut up and get him out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Peter rushed to drag Chris away, unwilling to risk losing his assignment (and, with it, the possible free pass to kill an Argent.)




It was Aiden that first realized their mistake.

Sure, he and his brother had provided a distraction by starting the fight at the school, but they had not known what Kali was planning or they never would have gone along with it.

Having spied on the pack for weeks on end, Aiden was familiar with the occasional, careful mentions of ‘Stiles.’ And while Derek’s pack had been extremely cautious about what they said about him in school, Aiden had overheard the omega moron whining about ‘Stiles’ several times to the hunter girl. He had even tracked Derek’s betas to the Sheriff’s house and – from a safe distance to avoid detection – managed to put together the details of Stiles’ identity and condition. And so, for obvious fucking reasons, Aiden had never suggested the human to Duke as a viable target.

But Kali had apparently not bothered to do her homework. She only gleaned the basics: Stiles was a human that Derek obviously cared deeply about. In her eyes, this was all she needed to know.

Aiden attempted to make the mistake known before it could all go sideways. He entered the warehouse just as Deucalion was heading downstairs to meet the prisoner.

“His name is ‘Stiles’ apparently,” Kali sneered.

Deucalion let out a bored sound before his nose twitched purposefully. “Made a mess of your shirt, did he?” he asked in amusement.

Kali growled and muttered, “Little shit stabbed me in the chest before I knocked him out.”

Deucalion chuckled. “Did he now?” He hummed to himself. “Stiles, was it? He sounds like quite the fiery one. Perhaps I’ll have a use for him yet.”

Aiden stepped forward, holding up a hand and warning, “Duke, there’s something you really need to know about this kid before you walk in there.”

“Mind your fucking business,” Kali spat contemptuously. “All Duke needs to know is that this kid is Derek’s biggest weakness and somehow you and your brother managed to miss it. Ennis and I were the ones who figured out how to nab him – no thanks to either of you.”

Aiden pursed his lips and shook his head. Holding up his hands, he backed away slowly.

Ethan caught his brother by the elbow, fully understanding his reservations. He grinned and said, “You know what? Fine by us, Kali. Duke should definitely keep in mind the fact that you and Ennis are 100% responsible for this.”

At those words, Deucalion paused. He slowly turned his head, using his senses to carefully appraise the twins. Humming in interest, he unlocked the cell door and entered the small space.

He was unsurprised to find the human cowering in the corner, smelling like blood and fear. Given the way the teen’s stomach was growling, however, he was puzzled to find the food they left for him untouched. He supposed the teen might believe the food to be poisoned… If that was the case, he could not blame him for being reluctant.

“I know the cot is not the most comfortable accommodation in the world, but surely it must be better than sitting on that floor,” Deucalion said in amusement as he balanced his cane between his hands.

The scent of the teen’s terror intensified as his heart raced.

“Who are you?” he asked hoarsely. “H-hunters?”

Deucalion arched a brow and tilted his head, wondering over the question. “Well, if you have to ask that, Kali must not have allowed you to get a very good look at her before knocking you unconscious,” he said with a smirk.

The Alpha turned his head slightly when Kali’s heartrate picked up behind him in response to his words. And for some strange reason, the teen’s scent turned bitter and sorrowful.

“Real funny, asshole,” the human spat, anger rising quickly to cover whatever injury the Alpha’s words had inadvertently caused. “So, what? You’re not hunters? What the hell are you then? Wolves?”

“I’d think the answer to that was obvious,” Deucalion said as he purposefully removed his glasses. He allowed his eyes to shift to their Alpha glow… and immediately realized that something about the boy was wrong

Stiles was not looking at him. He was turned in Deucalion’s general direction, but the angle of his face was just slightly off.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, the Alpha said, “Not very good manners, refusing the hospitality extended to you by your hosts. You haven’t even touched your food.”

Stiles snorted and said, “Yeah? Probably because I didn’t know it was there, dickhead. Not like I could fucking see it, now could I?”  

Deucalion could hear Kali’s pulse ratcheting up progressively higher behind him as it clicked for her.

“Stiles?” Deucalion called and earned an irritated huff in response. His voice grew deeper and more deadly as he asked, “What’s wrong with your eyes, boy?”

“My eyes?” Stiles repeated with a derisive laugh. “Oh, not a damned thing. Other than, of course, them no longer fucking working!” he finished angrily. “Because, as I had the extreme misfortune of learning firsthand a few months ago, that’s what happens when Gerard Argent plugs a human into a generator and lights him up like a Christmas tree!”

The boy’s heartrate remained completely steady throughout his outburst.

Deucalion snarled and spun toward Kali.

Aiden and Ethan took several steps back, knowing better than to get in his way.

A look of wild, homicidal rage was etched into every feature of Deucalion’s rapidly transforming face as he demanded in a guttural growl, “You… attacked a defenseless human boy… who was blinded… by Gerard Argent? And then you dared to present him to me as a gift?”

“I didn’t know…” Kali insisted weakly, shaking her head as her eyes welled up with tears of terror. “Duke… I swear, I didn’t know.”

Deucalion roared as he lunged for her, easily besting her and ripping her apart.

In the corner of the cell, Stiles gasped in horror over what he was hearing and curled in on himself, covering his head and pressing back against the wall as far as possible.

“Hey… you’re okay,” Ethan called, carefully entering the cell with his brother to reassure the cowering human. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you, man,” he said as he crouched down in front of Stiles.

Aiden stood behind him and assured, “Duke didn’t know anything about you, other than the fact that you were someone important to Derek. He never would’ve let Kali grab you if he’d known what happened to you.”

Stiles, still trembling and smelling like absolute terror, exhaled shakily and slowly summoned the courage to raise his head. After a moment, he managed to joke in a wavering voice, “I… don’t know whether to be relieved or offended that my blindness makes me an unviable candidate for abductions.” He squinted purely for comedic effect as he asked, “Does this classify as discrimination?”

“No,” Deucalion answered as he stood and wiped the worst of the blood from his face. “Not discrimination, boy. Commiseration. Because, as it turns out, you and I share a common history.” He stopped a few feet away from the human and stated plainly, “Gerard Argent took my eyes from me as well.”

Stiles let out a stunned exhale at that. His sightless eyes flitted around the room as his thoughts raced. “Man… Again, I’m not sure whether to be offended,” he said, scrunching up his face. “I mean, the whole thing was bad enough… but now, come to find out I wasn’t even his first? Sorta cheapens the whole horrific torture thing if he’s just out there passing out blindness willy nilly, you know?”

Deucalion grinned and declared, “Oh, I do like you, Stiles.”

“Well, that’s not terrifying at all,” Stiles said sarcastically.

Deucalion chuckled. “Come. Let us tend to your wounds and take you somewhere more comfortable. It seems you and I have much to discuss.”

“Alright…” Stiles said anxiously, leaning against the wall and getting up onto his trembling legs. “But I warn you now, if anyone lets me step in that crazy bitch’s guts, I’m gonna be seriously pissed,” he joked despite his palpable fear. “I am right in assuming that all of the growling and wet crunching gurgling awfulness I heard was you killing her, right?”

“Correct,” Deucalion said as he walked out the door. “Aiden, would you be so kind as to help our guest avoid the mess?”

“With pleasure, boss,” Aiden said with a smile and took Stiles’ arm, guiding him out.

“Ennis is gonna be back before long…” Ethan reminded. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something…” Deucalion said with a sly smile.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!



Chapter Text


The Alpha nearly tripped over his paws when he heard the voice echoing through the trees. He paused and turned in place, listening for the source of the sound.

“DEREK!” Erica shouted again, and he bolted for her.

Breaking the tree line, he found his beta standing beside the Sheriff in the rear parking lot of the local pharmacy.

“I just received a call,” Noah said, clenching his jaw. “British guy by the name of Deucalion – called himself the ‘Demon Wolf’, which…” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a second before declaring, “I’m not even gonna ask. He has Stiles and wants to meet with you. Said he tried to call your phone first, but… Well, I guess I get why you’re not carrying it at the moment.”

Derek whined, struggling to work out how to shift back. He had no idea where to even begin and quickly started to panic. When it became nearly overwhelming, he thought of Stiles Holding him close and comforting him, the scent of him, the sound of his laughter… Stiles needed him…

And just as quickly as the transformation had come the first time, it came again.

“Jesus,” the Sheriff said in shock as he and Erica stared down at the trembling, nude Alpha still on all fours.

“Congratulations, Stiles!” Erica snorted.

Noah choked off a laugh before giving her a mock stern look. He tossed his keys to the grinning beta and informed her, “There’s a pair of sweatpants in the trunk of my car. Quit your leering and go grab some clothes for the guy, would you?”

“If I must,” Erica sighed in feigned reluctance, turning and heading out just as Derek stood upright.

Noah winced and had to press his mouth shut in order to prevent any joking comments from tumbling out. (Who do you think Stiles inherited that faulty brain-to-mouth filter from, anyway?) He determinedly kept his eyes locked with the Alpha’s because… okay, yes, ‘Congratulations, Stiles!’ summed it up perfectly and he really could have gone without ever knowing how extraordinarily blessed his future son-in-law was in… well… every area of his anatomy.


Seriously. Good for Stiles.


“We’re supposed to meet with this Deucalion guy tomorrow morning,” Noah said, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to preemptively repress this memory. “He let Stiles talk to me for a minute.”

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise. “He did? What did Stiles say? Is he alright? How badly did they hurt him?” He caught the pair of sweatpants Erica tossed to him and ignored the catcall she gave.

“Says he’s fine – just got a bump on the head,” Noah told him, averting his eyes as the Alpha hurriedly dressed. “Sounds shaken up, but he said that all of us need to stay calm. He also said that he knows we’ll want to spend the rest of the night searching for him, but he swears there’s no need. Hell, he used our codeword and everything. I’m pretty sure he means this, son. He said to just hang tight, and he’ll see us in the morning.”

“His heartbeat was steady,” Erica offered her Alpha with a shrug. “He wasn’t worried, Der. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.”

Derek frowned deeply, struggling to understand what the hell was going on. “When and where are we meeting them?”




The following morning, shortly after sunrise, Derek and his pack arrived at the designated meeting place. Derek had not slept a wink. He had not eaten or showered or changed clothes. Hell, he was still wearing the same pair of borrowed sweatpants and no shirt because he had not been able to do anything other than pace restlessly and worry over Stiles.

He struggled to stay in control as he watched Deucalion walking out to meet them. His eyes narrowed and gums itched with the urge to drop fangs as he realized the other Alpha was alone.

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek demanded furiously.

“No need to get your hackles up, Hale. We’ll get to that shortly. I simply wanted to speak with you first,” Deucalion assured with a smile. He stopped a few feet away from Derek and turned his head, addressing the man beside him. “Ah, and you must be the boy’s father. You’ve raised quite the spirited one, Sheriff. Not many would dare to speak to me the way he did.”

Derek could not hold back a growl of warning at those words, swearing to himself that if this bastard had harmed Stiles in any way, he would tear him apart slowly.

Noah clenched his jaw and held his tongue, not wanting to inadvertently set off the unstable predator that still had his son hidden somewhere.

Deucalion smiled and said, “I should start by apologizing to you both for this rather unfortunate situation. You see, I was unaware of Kali’s plans to take Stiles. In fact, up until yesterday, I was completely unaware of his existence, much less his condition and the identity of the one responsible for causing it. I would have declared him off limits, had I known we shared a mutual enemy and common history.”

Peter exhaled sharply, and Derek glanced over at him with an expectant look.

“Then it’s true…” Peter said, studying the Demon Wolf and his reflective sunglasses appraisingly. He looked to Derek as he informed him, “There were rumors years ago… that Deucalion was blinded… and that Gerard Argent was responsible.”

Derek’s eyes widened and he looked back at the other Alpha in surprise.

“The rumors were true,” Deucalion confirmed.

Peter gave the Alpha a curious look as he added, “Of course, back then you were a regular Alpha… A pacifist, in fact, as hard as that is to believe.”

“Oh, but trauma has a way of changing a man,” Deucalion said in amusement.

“Changing a man… right,” Peter repeated with a nod of feigned understanding before adding, “Or pushing him to murder his entire pack and convince other Alphas to do the same.”

Deucalion grinned and added pointedly, “Or turning him feral so that he murders his own niece, steals her Alpha spark, and goes on a killing spree to take out those responsible for his family’s murders…”

Peter’s brows rose before he grudgingly nodded that the Alpha had a point.

Deucalion clicked tongue before saying, “We all have our ways of handling things.” Turning his attention back to the other Alpha present, he said, “Stiles, for instance, responded by choosing to accept his fate out of a misguided desire to protect you, Derek. Brilliant boy like that, barely an adult, and yet he resigned himself to hiding away, a prisoner in his home for the rest of his days, rather than just asking you for the bite. All this, just in case the bite wouldn’t take, and simply because he didn’t want you to blame yourself if he died.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Utterly ridiculous, of course, but you do have to admire that level of loyalty.”

Derek’s heart started pounding in his chest as it dawned on him. “What did you do?” he asked worriedly, afraid that he already knew the answer.

“Why, I simply removed the one thing standing in Stiles’ way,” Deucalion declared.

“Which was…?” Noah asked anxiously.

Deucalion turned toward the Sheriff and answered purposefully, “His choice in the matter.”


The pack froze.


The Sheriff reached out and gripped Derek’s shoulder to hold himself upright.

“You mean… you…?” Derek tried, but could not force the words to come.

Deucalion merely smirked in reply and pulled his phone from his pocket. Bringing it to his ear, he said, “We’re ready.”

Derek could hardly breathe as he waited, and within a moment, he could hear a vehicle approaching. He exhaled shakily and closed his eyes, praying to any God who would listen. The vehicle pulled into the parking lot, and he could hear three strong heartbeats – one of which was hammering three times faster than the others.

“Oh, please… please, please, please…” Derek whispered desperately, covering his mouth with both hands and struggling to hold it together as they waited for the car to come to a stop.

Before it was even in park, Stiles burst free from the back door and tumbled out, racing forward and absolutely plowing into Derek. The Alpha allowed himself to be driven backward to the ground, wrapping his arms around the teen and hanging on for dear life.

“Oh my God, Stiles… You’re alright,” Derek gasped. “I was so fucking worried. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Let me look at you,” he insisted, pulling Stiles’ face away from his chest and gazing up at him. When their eyes met and Derek’s senses caught up with him, he let out a sharp breath of disbelief. “Stiles…?” he whispered, reaching up and touching his face.

Stiles grinned down at him; eyes fully focused on his before they glowed a bright, unmistakable red.

Derek gasped and gripped the sides of Stiles’ face, staring up at him in shock. “What…? How…? Are you…?”

The rest of his attempted questions were swallowed up as Stiles kissed him deeply and let out a contented rumble.

Around them, the pack was watching in astonishment.

“So, Stiles… He can see again?” Noah asked, struggling to hold back tears.

“He can,” Deucalion confirmed.

“The bite took…” Erica breathed in wonder, leaning against the Sheriff and covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

“It did,” Aiden assured.

“And Stiles… is an Alpha now… because…?” Boyd prompted worriedly.

Ethan grinned as he answered, “Because Ennis blamed him for Kali’s death and made the mistake of trying to attack him.”

“Yes… that did not go the way he anticipated, to say the least,” Deucalion recalled in amusement.

They all settled into silence for a moment, waiting for the reunited couple to come up for air.

“Missed you,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips.

Derek laughed tearfully and shook his head, holding on tighter and kissing him desperately. “Fuck, I missed you, too. I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

“Can’t lose me that easy, Sourwolf,” Stiles teased.

“So… what does this mean?” Jackson asked, looking around at everyone worriedly.

Erica scowled and glared over at Deucalion as she said, “You can’t take him.”

Deucalion laughed before assuring dangerously, “Oh, dear pup, as if you’d have any say in the matter.”

Just that quickly the mood shifted.

 The Hale pack moved closer to one another, blocking Derek and Stiles from view.

Deucalion and the twins snarled and flashed their eyes.

“Knock it off!” Stiles called as he jumped to his feet. He reached down and snagged Derek’s hand before pulling him up to stand beside him. Cutting to the front of the pack, he declared. “Nobody’s taking me. Just simmer down.” He waited for everyone to relax a bit before saying, “Duke and I have an agreement. As it turns out, the bite did take… but it had an unexpected side effect.”

To demonstrate, he held up his palm and the others gasped in surprise when a small white flame rose from his hand.

Derek moved closer, eyes wide as he stared down at the flame in awe. “You have magic,” he said with an astounded smile.

“I do,” Stiles confirmed. “Still need to figure out how the hell to use it, but apparently healing is one of its uses because, when Duke bit me, it sorta erupted out of me and fixed me up. Like, soup to nuts. Everything. Scars. Eyes. Carpals tunnel. The works. My wolf healing hadn’t even kicked in yet and my magic just wiped the slate clean.” He grinned as he looked over at Deucalion and said, “And I’m not the only one it fixed up.”

Deucalion smiled back at the teen Alpha before removing his sunglasses to reveal his fully healed eyes.

Stiles flailed his hand, the flame extinguishing as he added, “Oh, and my magic also seems to have fixed the screws that were loose inside his brain, too, because – despite his posturing – he’s back to being the Zen-wolf he apparently was back in the day,” he said proudly. “So… yeah. Duke is cool with me doing whatever I want.”

“Absolutely,” Deucalion said with a chuckle.

Stiles turned and looked up at Derek as he asked in uncertainty, “Unless… I mean, is it going to be a problem for you that I’m… you know… an Alpha now, too? Because I’m gonna be sort of high maintenance for a long time. I have to learn, like… everything. I mean, I’m handling it pretty well so far, but, hello… new werewolf, Alpha, magic powers…” he said, ticking off a finger for each item. “I’m gonna be a lot of work.”

Derek could not keep the grin from his face as he shook his head. “You’re always a lot of work,” he teased, kissing him sweetly before saying, “And you’re always worth every second of it.”

Stiles fist pumped in victory before leaping up into Derek’s arms and kissing him enthusiastically.

Derek laughed as he caught him and held him up off the ground.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

In a deeply surreal turn of events, the Hale pack – along with the remaining members of the Alpha pack – all ended up at the Stilinski residence for breakfast. It was a little amazing how relaxed everyone was, considering how close the two packs had come to a bloody war.

Deucalion tutted over the mess Kali had left behind and offered to reimburse the Sheriff for any and all necessary repairs resulting from ‘that whole unfortunate abduction affair.’ (For example, a new front door to replace the one Derek had barreled through and a new refrigerator so Stiles would not have to look at the dented freezer door and recall being attacked in his own home.)

Ethan and Aiden fit in surprisingly well with the pack (particularly with Lydia and Jackson, for some reason… hmm…) Now that there was no imminent battle to dread, the group of teens found they all had a common favored topic: busting on Scott McCall. Erica and Aiden took turns recalling his recent moments of greatest stupidity. When Isaac regaled them with the tale of Erica knocking him out, Ethan gasped dramatically and asked to touch her fist so that he could live vicariously through her.

Stiles shook his head and smiled as he listened to it all. He was far too happy to let the topic of Scott bring him down. Everyone was safe and alive. Derek (who was still shirtless and going commando in sweats – a fact which had most definitely NOT gone unnoticed by Stiles, thank you very much) was hovering behind him, leaning in every few minutes to greedily huff at his neck and savor the new facets of his scent. His vision was back, against all odds. His body was healed – not only from the residual pain from his torture, but also from the extensive scarring. He had fucking magic! His home was filled with chatter and pack.

Yeah, it was a perfect day.




Peter pulled Deucalion aside before long, exchanging numbers and vaguely saying that he had an upcoming project which could use his input. After receiving a text from the elder Hale (presumably containing details pertaining to the mystery ‘project’), the Demon Wolf arched a brow and grinned.

And if there was one thing Stiles was sure of, it was that Peter and Deucalion grinning conspiratorially at one another whilst standing in the middle of an otherwise cheerful, family living room was the very-worst-and-most-ominous-of-bad omens. He gave them both a suspicious look, and earned matching expressions of feigned innocence in response. (Because that didn’t make them look 1000x guiltier or anything.)




Despite the others insisting that Stiles should relax after the ordeal he had been through, he was manning the stove. Reclaiming his territory in the kitchen, he was swatting away hands with his spatula when they tried to steal food, and insisting that – after this one last carnivore friendly feast –  the days of dietary anarchy in the Stilinski household were OVER.

Derek kissed Stiles’ cheek and reminded him that he was a carnivore now, too. The newly turned Alpha groaned at the truth of that and pouted that he would never be able to keep his father away from all the bacon, sausage, and steaks his new wolfy instincts were sure to demand.

And being the spectacular future son-in-law he was, Derek pointed out that Stiles could always use his new healing magic to keep the Sheriff’s heart healthy, thus removing the need to subject the elder Stilinski to any further dietary restrictions.

Stiles had opened his mouth to argue, but stopped and let out a contemplative, ‘huh…’ upon realizing that Derek had a point.

Noah’s jaw dropped as he was unexpectedly freed from his son’s years’ long campaign against him eating anything that actually tasted good. He grinned and draped his arm around Derek’s shoulders as he asked, “Did I mention that you’re my favorite? Because it’s true.”

“Hey!” Erica pouted. “How come he’s the favorite?” she demanded. “Just because the dude’s built like a freakin’ tripod – !”

Derek choked on air as the room filled with a mixture of snorts, muffled laughs, and unabashed cackling.

Arching a brow and ignoring her comment, Noah cut in to assure with a wink, “Don’t worry, Goldilocks, you’re my second favorite.”

Erica sat up taller and gave a beaming grin.

“HEY!” the other pack members all chimed in.

“The rest of you are tied for third place,” the Sheriff said in amusement.

“What the f-?” Stiles breathed in feigned indignation as he threw his arms up in the air.

Noah pointed over at his son and squinted his eyes. “I’ll consider letting you sneak in as a tie with Erica for second place AFTER I’ve eaten my first guilt-free bacon double cheeseburger.”




“…so then Ennis just charged at him like a freight train,” Aiden recalled with wide eyes.

Ethan nodded and added, “Right, and we were both all tensed up because Ennis was like… 6’4 of solid fucking muscle…”

Derek was sitting at the edge of his seat as he listened intently to the play by play, holding onto Stiles as if preparing to protect him from the dramatic retelling.

Stiles grinned at his protective boyfriend (no, his mate, his wolfish instincts corrected.) He snuggled further into Derek’s side, fully understanding the whole sniffing impulse and its allure now that he was a wolf himself. He sorta wanted to burrow up into Derek’s armpit and rub his face in his sweat, to be perfectly honest, but he figured that would be frowned upon by human standards.

His wolf did not give a single shit about human standards, however, and urged him to just go for it.

In an attempt to appease his overwhelming new instincts, Stiles kept taking (what he convinced himself were discrete) huffs of his mate’s intoxicating scent as close to the source as he could manage.

Judging by Derek’s occasional amused / heated smirks and arched brows, though, he was fully aware of the sniffing.

“And we wanted to jump in there,” Aiden insisted, “but Duke had already told us not to get involved unless absolutely necessary because he had a feeling Stiles was gonna be fine.”

Deucalion gave a smug smile (because, clearly, he had been right.)

Ethan raised his arm to demonstrate as he recalled, “Ennis had his arm drawn back, ready to tear into him, but Stiles was just so much faster on his feet. All he had to do was sidestep and slash,” he said with a thoroughly impressed smile.

“Quickest takedown of an Alpha I have ever seen,” Aiden assured, holding up his hands. “Like, Stiles didn’t even need to use his magic or anything. He just… watched… waited… and then, WHAM! One move. Done.”

Derek turned and gave Stiles a look that was simultaneously insanely proud and deeply aroused. Stiles inhaled deeply, easily detecting his boyfriend’s (mate’s!) desire. His eyes flashed crimson as he licked his lips and gave Derek a heated expression. Oh, yes… they needed to get some time alone ASAP.

“It truly was a thing of beauty,” Deucalion assured with a wide grin, paying no mind to the couple. He gave the twins a bemused look as he reminded, “I told you Stiles would be fine. After all, he stabbed Kali very nearly in the heart while he was still a blind human. What chance did Ennis stand against him as a sighted wolf with a well of untapped power?”

“You stabbed Kali?” Isaac asked in amazement.

“Bitch snuck up on me while I was making dinner! What did she expect?” Stiles demanded indignantly, earning a round of laughter.




The conversation continued easily, and it was not long before the Sheriff recalled, “…and I swear to God, Derek let out this scream of frustration and it turned into a howl and the next thing I know, he’s falling forward and… by the time he hit the ground, he was a wolf. An honest to God, enormous freaking WOLF.”  

Stiles flailed in place and sputtered before spinning to face Derek. “You WHAT?! Why did no one tell me this?!” he demanded.

Derek grinned and said, “Well, I didn’t want to steal your thunder. You showed up with several major surprise announcements of your own, in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, and not a single one of them was, ‘Surprise, honey! I can sprout fur and a tail!’” Stiles insisted in disbelief. “What the hell are you waiting for? Show me! Come on! Up, up!”

Derek scoffed. “I’m not going to do it in front of everyone,” he insisted, ears turning red in embarrassment. “It’s still new to me. I’ve only done it once, and it was all instinctual. I’ll need to practice before I’m ready to do it at will with an audience.”

“Oh, so you need privacy, huh? Fine by me!” Stiles proclaimed, snagging him by the wrist and pulling him up from the couch.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked in amusement as he was tugged toward the front door.  

“You and I are going to the loft,” Stiles answered, winking back at him and flashing his eyes purposefully, then grinning at the way Derek’s breath caught and gaze turned hungry at the sight.




The Alpha pair barely made it through the loft door before they were ripping clothes off of one another.

“Holy fuck, how do you make sweatpants look so fucking sexy?” Stiles panted before shredding them. “And of course you’re going commando, just tormenting me all day long with your dick right there behind this thin-ass fabric. Do you want me to go down on you in public or something? Because this is how you get me to go down on you in public.”

Derek could only growl and pant as he worked to get his mate naked as quickly as possible.

“Who’s fucking who first?” Stiles asked and laughed at the high-pitched, needy whine he received in response. “Right… even less talkative than usual right now, huh?”

Derek groaned and nodded as he kissed and sucked his way down the side of Stiles’ throat.

“Okay, we’ll make it up as we go, then,” Stiles decided before leading them both across the loft’s interior to the bed.

They fell into it together, and when Stiles stretched to search for lube in the bedside table, Derek promptly attached himself to his back, kissing and biting his way down his shoulders and spine.

“Guess you’re topping first…” Stiles snorted, still joking despite how breathless he was.

Derek moaned and nodded in agreement while licking a path down the small of Stiles’ back. Gripping his ass cheeks, Derek spread them apart and dove in without a second of hesitation, far too frantic already to even consider dragging things out. With a growl, he hauled Stiles’ ass up higher to give himself better access, then purred as he settled in, licking and sucking, plunging his tongue into Stiles’ hole and savoring how responsive the new wolf was to this. They had waited for so long to move on beyond frottage and hand/blowjobs. And holy fuck had it been worth the wait.

Stiles sobbed and dropped his chest down onto the bed, grabbing handfuls of the sheets (and accidentally shredding the mattress when his claws extended.) He sobbed incoherently in appreciation of Derek’s self-control, because the born-wolf was able to keep his own claws in check while fingering him open.

In no time at all, Stiles was begging and pleading for more. And without the will to make him wait even a second longer, Derek was hurriedly withdrawing his fingers and sliding his thick cock into Stiles’ maddeningly tight heat.

“Oh… fuuuccckkkk… Stiles,” he groaned, brows drawn tightly together as he slid inside an inch at a time. He gasped in astonishment once he was fully sheathed, shuddering and focusing all of his attention on the back of Stiles’ neck – biting and licking as he tried to hold back. “Not gonna last long,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Me, neither,” Stiles whined. “Good thing we’ve both got that handy Alpha refractory period now, huh? Means we’re gonna be at this literally all night long.” He turned his head slightly, grinning back at Derek before rocking his hips encouragingly and saying, “So, come on… fuck me hard, babe…”

Derek’s fangs dropped as he slowly pulled out until just the head of his cock was still inside, then purred wetly into Stiles’ ear, “Anything for you, sweetheart…”

In one swift motion, he got up onto his knees, gripped Stiles by the hips, and hauled him backward while thrusting forward into him, deep and fast.

Stiles let out a yowl of stunned pleasure before quickly and eagerly getting on board.

They worked together frantically, skin slapping skin, the entire bed moving across the floor from the power of their thrusts.

“Fucckkk that’s it…” Stiles sobbed, tipping his head back and grinning blissfully when Derek grabbed a handful of his hair.

The born-wolf snarled as he yanked back on it, forcing Stiles to arch his back even further.

Stiles whimpered in approval before moaning, “Mmm… yeah, come on, big guy… I’m gonna come… you coming with me?”

Derek let out a thunderous growl in reply and snapped his hips faster, chasing his building release.

Stiles gasped and keened as he tumbled over the edge, his orgasm so intense he nearly blacked out. Thankfully, he stayed at least lucid enough to appreciate the all-new sensation of Derek driving in deep and pulsing inside of him, staking his claim.

Derek cried out and clung to his back, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, trembling through his release while muttering, “…oh, fuck, Stiles… my perfect mate… so fucking good… gonna fuck you every chance I get… love you so much… so fucking perfect for me, baby…”


When they eventually both came back to themselves a bit, Stiles panted, “Just… wow…”

Derek hummed in agreement and nuzzled into his neck.



It only took a beat for Stiles to grin over his shoulder and ask, “Again?”

Derek groaned in approval before they were at it again.




The sun was starting to rise by the time they were finally both sated. The bed had broken after their second round. It was now reduced to the shredded remnants of a mattress and bedding resting precariously atop the shattered pieces of frame.

Derek was lying on his back, eyes closed and a delirious smile on his face, idly stroking Stiles’ sweaty back. Stiles was still settled between his thighs, rolling his face against Derek’s chest and making contented little sounds as he caught his breath.

“Fuck… that was the most amazing night of my entire life,” Stiles declared sincerely.

Derek grinned ear to ear and answered, “Same.”

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few moments, until Stiles eventually raised up onto his elbow to look down at his mate.

Derek opened his eyes and studied him. After a moment under Stiles' scrutiny, he smiled as he asked, “What?”

“Just thinking about how much I love the shit outta you,” Stiles said with a warm smile.

Derek tilted his head, eyes softening as he took Stiles’ hand and kissed it. “I love you, too,” he declared. He grinned as he added, “My little brat.” He cherished the bark of laughter Stiles gave in response before going on. “I mean it. I love you, Stiles. With all of my heart. Every version of you.” He traced his fingertips over Stiles’ face as he said, “As much as I tried not to, I loved goofy, sarcastic, mouthy, major pain in the ass, sixteen-year-old you. I loved stupidly brave you, charging into danger armed with nothing but sarcasm and a baseball bat. And when you were at your lowest, I loved all of your broken pieces. I loved you when you were blind and somehow still braver than anyone I’ve ever known, relearning how to live in an all new, terrifying world. And I love you now…” His smile was blinding as he whispered proudly, “My powerful, Alpha mate. My newly bitten wolf. My magical Stiles.” He pulled him in for a slow, deep kiss before telling him sweetly, “No matter how many times you change, it’s always you… and I am always going to love every piece of you.”

Stiles stared at him in awe for a long moment before a slow smile spread across his lips and he teased, “Ho-ly fuck that was some seriously ooey-gooey romantic shit, Hale!”

Derek cracked up and shook his head, then shoved Stiles off of him as he grumbled, “Get the fuck off me, brat.”

“No, no. No takebacks!” Stiles cackled as he scrambled to climb back on top of him. “You love me, big guy. You, like, BIG love me. Like…” He shook his head, eyes wide as he floundered for examples. “…like you wanna pick flowers in a meadow for me and watch Hallmark movies together and carve our initials into a tree with your claws and take me for picnics in the park and hold hands in the grocery store when we’re old and wrinkly… That type of love. FOREVER type love.”

Derek gave him a mock scowl before eventually lifting a shoulder and granting, “…maybe.”

Stiles threw his head back laughing, then squeaked when he was unexpectedly tackled back onto the bed and kissed senseless.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is already almost fully complete, I am just posting it in sections as I read-through and edit them. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon, and Stiles and Derek had yet to leave the bed. But considering the fact that the couple had been awake and busy all night long (and had spent the night before that separated and with Stiles facing mortal peril alone) their sleep schedules were understandably thrown out of whack.

Stiles awoke to the sensation of being watched. He cracked open one eye, then immediately closed it with a smile spreading across his lips. “Are you watching me sleep, you big creeper?” he teased, unable to mask the contented joy in his tone.

The sleep-roughened chuckle Derek gave was right up there at the very tippy-top of the list of best sounds in the history of the world, in Stiles' opinion.

“I am,” Derek freely admitted. “Marveling over you, actually.”

Stiles huffed in amusement. “It that so? Bed head and morning breath really do it for you, huh?”

Derek snorted and gave him a light shove. “No… although, you do look ridiculously adorable when you’re all rumpled and sleepy…”

Stiles burst out laughing as he was yanked across the mattress and half on top of Derek.

The elder Alpha wrapped his arms around his mate and kissed him sweetly. “I was actually just lying here, thinking about how many times you were worried that you might be our weak point. That you might get us all killed because you were blind and defenseless…” Adoration and wonder were shining in his gaze as he stroked Stiles’ face and said, “But it was the exact opposite. Because – even blind, even supposedly ‘defenseless’ – you managed to not only survive, but turn the entire situation in your favor. You diffused the all-out war that had been otherwise inevitable and probably saved most, if not all, of our lives in the process. You healed yourself and Deucalion. You came out on the other side of things armed with new gifts and secured an extremely powerful ally for our pack and I…” He paused and shook his head, mouth working soundlessly as he struggled to find the words. “God, Stiles… You are absolutely the most incredible person I have ever met. So, yeah… I was watching you sleep. I was marveling over you and wondering how the hell I ever got so lucky to have you as my mate.”

Stiles beamed down at him, stroking his eyebrows and teasing, “So… what I’m hearing is… sex makes you super sweet and mushy, huh?”

Derek’s entire body shook with laughter before managed to rein it in. Struggling to hold back his smile, he chucked Stiles to the other side of the demolished bed. “Whatever. I take it all back,” he declared in feigned irritation as he climbed to his feet.

He only managed to take a few steps before Stiles pounced and clung to his back.

“No, don’t go!” Stiles whined and sucked on Derek’s earlobe, causing the born-wolf to nearly trip. Stiles grinned victoriously. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he insisted. “Just making an observation, is all. Since I intend to devote all of my time and energy to keeping you in a perpetual state of fully-sexed-up-and-sated from this day forth, I was merely noting that there would be certain sweet and mushy side effects.” After a few seconds of Derek continuing his trek through the loft, Stiles cocked his head and asked, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“WE are not going anywhere,” Derek scoffed. “I am going to take a shower. Alone. You’re not invited because apparently you make me ‘mushy.’”

Stiles scowled and pouted at the thought of being denied the opportunity to shower with Derek in all his magnificent naked glory (because now that Stiles could SEE it all, he was making up for lost time gawking.)

Grinning to himself, he leaned in, bringing his mouth to Derek’s super-sensitive ear again. He licked his lips and asked breathily against it, “How about I make you hard, instead?”

Derek stopped walking, shuddering as Stiles nipped at his earlobe and the shell of his ear. After a moment of the exquisite torture, he conceded unsteadily, “I might be persuaded to bring you along in that case…”

Stiles gave a low, victorious laugh as Derek carried him into the shower.




A few days later, Stiles and Derek took a trip to the hospital.

The neurologist was understandably mystified, but she attributed the unexpected return of Stiles’ sight to (supposedly) blurry images from his scans paired with the natural, gradual reduction of swelling in his brain decreasing pressure on the nerves… or some such nonsense because, clearly, she had no idea how to explain his miraculous recovery.

Stiles accepted the bullshit with a beaming smile because he needed it documented that he was no longer blind. On their way out, they stopped off at the desk of the liaison for a local charity. There, he handed over a large box of donations – all of the expensive accessibility devices he no longer needed. He hoped that someone else might find them as helpful as he had.

Leaning into Derek’s side, Stiles was on top of the world. He much preferred exiting the building in his current state, as opposed to the last time he had been pushed out the doors in a wheelchair – blind, in excruciating pain, and utterly hopeless.

And if, in his joy, he casually touched a few people as they made their way through the hospital halls and those people just so happened to make miraculous recoveries… well, that was their little secret.

He and Derek were nearly back to the parking lot when they both heard it – a stunned gasp and muffled sob. They turned and cast a look behind them, finding Melissa standing there on the sidewalk with tearful eyes and her hands clamped over her mouth.

Stiles glanced up at his mate, and after a moment of silent deliberation, nodded that this was fine. He turned and approached the woman with Derek at his back.

“Hey, Melissa,” Stiles greeted with a soft smile.

She let out another muffled sob and cried harder, clearly struggling to stop but having no luck.

Sighing, Stiles held up his arms and, when she tentatively took a few steps closer, he pulled her in for a hug. He might hate her moron of a son, but this woman had been a surrogate mother to him for years and he could smell her warring despair and relief in that moment. He held her close as she bawled against his chest and clung to him. His shirt was soaked by the time she pulled back and gazed up at him.

“Stiles, honey, how…?” she tried, but her face crumpled, and she had to shake her head, unable to get the words out. Her wide, wet eyes conveyed the question well enough, though.

He gave her a teasing smile and said, “Come on, Mel… You know how.” He arched a brow and flashed his eyes at her, earning a choppy gasp in reply.

“Oh thank God,” she breathed, eyes fluttering closed as she took a second to process this. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his chest and steadying her breathing. “It was my fault,” she whispered, looking up at him mournfully. “Stiles, it was all my fault what happened to you. Gerard used the Kanima… they came into our house when I was alone, and they attacked me…”

Stiles’ expression turned murderous as he held her closer, his heartrate picking up at the idea of her being harmed. He felt Derek rest a hand on his back, and the touch went a long way to centering and calming him.

Melissa’s lips trembled, tears streaming down her face as she said, “…they threatened me and I… I was so scared that I… I told Scott to give him whatever he wanted. I… I didn’t know he would… I never thought he would keep you in the dark about what he was doing… what he was planning… I never would have believed that he wouldn’t make sure you were safe…”

Stiles shook his head, frowning deeply as he shushed her and insisted, “No. Absolutely not. None of this was your fault, do you hear me? None of it. Scott made the decision to lie to me and Derek and keep things from us. If he had included us on the plan, none of this would have happened. If he had given a single shit about…” He clenched his jaw and sighed. Cupping her face, he looked into her eyes and insisted, “It’s not your fault, do you understand? There are a few people that carry the blame for what I’ve been through, for what Derek and our pack have been through, and you are nowhere on that list.”

She slowly nodded, though the sorrow in her gaze made it clear that she still felt responsible.

Stiles frowned and looked at her, really looked at her. He winced at the dark bags under her eyes. He could feel the intense exhaustion and pain thrumming through her. A small smile came to his lips as he whispered, “Hey… wanna know a secret?”

Melissa’s brows drew together as she slowly nodded.

He took her by the wrist and raised her hand between them. Closing his eyes, he slowly brought his other hand up to press it flat against hers, palm to palm. She gasped in surprise as a soft white light rippled through Stiles’ hand and through her own before vanishing. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she felt the energy seeping into her veins, easing her pain while leaving her feeling more rested than she could ever recall.

Stiles opened his eyes and grinned watching the color return to her cheeks and the dark bags under her eyes fade away to nothing. He winked at her and released her hand, taking a step back into Derek as he said, “Gotta start taking better care of yourself. There really is no substitute for a good night’s sleep, as I recall you telling me on numerous occasions.”

“You…? You can…?” she whispered in awe.

“I can,” Stiles answered with a smile.

“Stiles has a gift,” Derek said proudly. “He actually healed himself after he was turned – not using werewolf healing.”

“He has magic?” Melissa’s jaw dropped and eyes widened as she marveled at him. “Stiles, you have magic?”

“No, he is magic,” Derek corrected as he wrapped his arms around Stiles, smiling down at him before kissing his cheek. “The bite just brought what was already there to the surface.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Melissa’s lips as she narrowed her eyes and pointed back and forth between them. “And… uh… this? This is a serious thing that’s happening now?”

“It is,” Stiles answered with a grin, leaning his head back to give Derek a quick kiss on the lips.

“Okay… okay,” Melissa said, nodding and struggling now to hold back a pleased smile even as her eyes twinkled with joy. She turned her attention to the elder wolf and said, “Well, I trust Stiles’ judgment of character a lot more than Scott’s, so if Scott thinks you’re a bad guy, Derek, but Stiles believes you’re relationship material, I’m gonna have to go with Stiles on this.” She gave him a light scowl and warned, “If you break his heart, though, I promise, I will get very inventive. I’m a nurse, Hale, so I want you to keep these two very important words in mind: wolfsbane enema.”  

Derek and Stiles stared at her in surprise for a second before bursting out laughing. Melissa dropped the threatening act and joined them.

“I’d never hurt Stiles, but I will definitely keep that in mind,” Derek assured before quirking a brow and adding in amusement, “…and possibly in my nightmares, so thank you for that.”

Melissa and Derek exchanged numbers, and Stiles told her to let him know if any special cases (little kids, mothers, cops, etc.) came through the ER with a low chance of recovery. He obviously could not save everyone all the time without attracting unwanted attention, but he was damned sure going to use his gift to spare at least some lives.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: In the homestretch now, just tying up all the loose ends. :) I have two more already chapters written and will probably write one beyond that to finish up. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

The following Monday, Stiles returned to school. The experience was far less stressful than he originally anticipated. Then again, his relaxed disposition might have been helped along by his insanely hot mate dropping him off and thoroughly, languidly kissing him goodbye out in the parking lot. (Derek kisses could cure anything, Stiles was convinced of this.)

Also contributing to his relative calm was the fact that Stiles walked up the front steps of the school completely flanked by his pack. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, and Lydia were expected. Ethan and Aiden were surprise additions to his layer of (entirely unnecessary, but still greatly appreciated) protection.

It was unreal walking through the doors of the high school again after everything he had been through. The place used to feel so imposing and intimidating. Now, it was all so… small. Inconsequential. He wanted to get his diploma, sure, but all sense of stress and urgency was long gone.

To say his arrival drew attention was a drastic understatement.

He ignored the way every student and staff member stopped to stare at him in disbelief. Despite Peter’s many threats, he had only been able to keep things just so quiet. Rumors had swirled over Stiles’ absence, and while they got some bits right (he had been temporarily blind, yes) other speculations were like something out of a movie. For example, he had been abducted by the mob and tortured as a message to the Sheriff. Oh, or he had been the member of a gang and had to fight his way out. Evidently, according to the school rumor mill, he was a serious badass.

Alas, these rumors did nothing to ward off the presence of the one – scratch that – two people he absolutely did not want to see. He managed to avoid them for the first half of the day, but when he went to his locker after lunch, none other than Scott and Allison were there waiting.

Stiles sighed and said, “Well, I was having a good day.”

“Just ignore them,” Erica snarled, glaring at the couple and flashing her eyes in warning.

The pack closed ranks, blocking any possible routes to approach Stiles. As Alphas, Ethan and Aiden had positioned themselves at the front of the group. Both grinned dangerously as they strode toward the unwelcome duo, wordlessly driving them back several paces away from Stiles’ locker before stopping.

“Stiles!” Scott called, clearly hoping to reason with him.

Several low growls came in response, but Stiles merely sighed and opened his locker. He took out the books he would need for his afternoon classes, Lydia beside him muttering advice on what he should keep and leave behind, which classes were note-heavy, etc.

“Stiles, what the hell, dude?” Scott griped. “You’re not even gonna talk to me? First Derek attacks me and lies to me about you, and now you’re ignoring me?”

That comment made Stiles pause and clench his jaw.

Lydia studied the expression on his face before nodding to herself. “Right…” she breathed, pressing her lips together as she pulled out her phone and called Derek. “Hey. There isn’t a problem yet, but there very well may be here in a minute,” she informed the Alpha on the line.

“A Scott problem, I'm sure. I figured there would be. It’s why I didn’t even bother leaving the parking lot,” Derek assured, sounding every bit as furious as Stiles looked. “Just keep me on the phone. Any problems, I’m coming in.”

Stiles could feel his mate through their bond. Derek was sending out a sense of calm and comfort, but Stiles was far too angry to respond with any reassurance. He sucked his teeth before turning and directing his attention to the self-righteous pair staring at him expectantly.

“Aside from the fact that Derek was completely justified in kicking your ass after what you did to him, how, exactly, did he ‘lie’ to you?” Stiles asked stonily.

“He told me you were blind,” Scott said as if it were obvious.

Stiles gritted his teeth to keep his anger in check. “Did anyone else tell you that I was blind?”

Scott frowned as he considered this. “Uh… my mom. And your dad, too, I guess.”

With a furious glare, Stiles asked quietly, “So, my own father – the Sheriff, and your own mother – a nurse at the hospital where I was treated for a month, BOTH told you that I was blind… but somehow, you jumped straight to ‘Derek lied’, huh? That’s the most obvious explanation for how I’m walking around today with my vision intact?”

Allison caught on first. Was she an evil, easily manipulated bitch who let her psychotic aunt, mother, and grandfather all warp her until she was gleefully torturing and attacking innocent people? Sure. But she wasn’t nearly as stupid as her counterpart. The ‘huntress’ (AKA murderess-in-training) held up a hand, pressing it against Scott’s shoulder in an attempt to signal him to stop talking.

But sadly, Scott had not been blessed with the sense God gave a squirrel, and so he plowed on, oblivious to all the indications that he was scurrying headlong into dangerous territory.

“But he did lie,” Scott insisted. “Because you’re clearly fine. And I don’t know how he convinced my Mom and your Dad that you were blind or whatever, but he obviously did.”

Stiles could not help but shake his head and laugh in amazement. He started cutting through the pack, half aware of Lydia muttering into her phone, “You should probably get ready…”

Derek sent out another wave of reassurance and love through their bond, an attempt to calm him before he went too far. But Stiles was not in danger of losing control or shifting involuntarily. Stiles was completely in control of the tide of his rising fury, and he sent Derek back a sense of this. He smirked to himself when that assurance did absolutely nothing to alleviate his mate’s concerns.

Once Stiles was standing face to face with his former best friend, he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. He leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to Scott’s ear before whispering, “Come on, Scotty… you really can’t think of any other way I could have been blind, and not be anymore? Even this close, you can’t sense it?”

He pulled back slightly, face mere inches from Scott’s, holding his confused gaze for a few seconds before allowing his eyes to glow Alpha red. He grinned at the way Scott’s heart tripped all over itself in panic and savored the fear he could smell rolling off of Allison.

“Are you starting to catch on now?” Stiles whispered, backing Scott up until the omega was flat up against the lockers.

The pack moved with him, effortlessly blocking the confrontation from any prying outside eyes and preventing Scott and Allison from escaping.

Stiles’ crimson gaze flicked over to Allison as he said, “Your dear old grandpa…” He looked to Scott. “…the homicidal geriatric psychopath you conspired with… chained me to a wall and played with me for the better part of a day. In that very same basement where you, Allison, helped him chain up and electrocute Erica and Boyd after you shot them with wolfsbane arrows. You decided you were fine with it, though, right? Because they were wolves? But what about me, huh? Because I was 100% breakable human while Gerard carved me up. And burned me with a blow torch. And poured acid on me. And electrocuted me… over… and over… and over and over… until parts of my body literally cooked and gave out… until the last thing I saw before my optic nerves were fried was his creepy, laughing face.”

He paused, looking back and forth between them, amazed and yet unsurprised that neither had anything to say to this.

He laughed bitterly as he continued, “And then, because he had to rush to meet up with you, Scott, so that you could violate Derek…” Stiles’ fangs dropped at the reminder of what had been done to his mate, his voice growing deeper and more animalistic with each word. “…so that you could force Derek to give the bite – which you knew was sacred to him – to a fucking Argent, of all people Gerard and his goons stuffed me into the trunk of their car, drove to the edge of town, and tossed my body behind a dumpster, fully expecting that I’d be dead within the hour.”

Scott and Allison remained silent, exchanging glances and trying to gauge one another’s reactions. They both looked confused, possibly in denial, and unsure of how to respond to what they had just been told.

Stiles’ grin turned positively manic, crimson gaze borderline unhinged as he whispered, “And do you want to know the absolute kicker? Hmm?” he pressed, eyes flitting back and forth between the silent couple. “Right now, I can smell so many things coming from the two of you, but do you know what I can’t catch a single trace of?”

He paused, seeing the realization dawn on Allison’s face too late for it to matter.

“Remorse.” Stiles snarled, lips curled back and trembling with rage.



“Yeah, we have a problem,” Lydia informed Derek with absolute certainty.



“So, you know what I’m gonna do?” Stiles asked. “Since neither of you possess the empathy to give a single fuck about anything unless it happens to you, I’m going to help you out…”

His hands moved faster than either of them could hope to dodge, and he grabbed them each by their wrists. His eyes rolled closed as he focused on exactly what he wanted to accomplish, tapping into the web of pack bonds to find the missing pieces he needed.  

Allison cried out as Scott hissed and whimpered.

It only took a matter of seconds, and by the time Stiles had released them and opened his eyes, Derek was already there, pulling him back against his chest and speaking soothingly into his ear. Stiles leaned into his mate gratefully, but the satisfied smile on his face was for another reason.

Scott and Allison were both staring down at their wrists in disbelief.

“What the hell is this?” Scott asked in panicked confusion.

“What did you do?” Allison demanded, eyes wide and full of concern.

“You’ll see…” Stiles answered cryptically with a deeply unsettling grin.

Derek glanced down and noted that each of them were sporting a reddened handprint in the place Stiles’ had been holding them.

“Both of you get the fuck out of here,” Derek snarled. “And don’t ever come near Stiles again.”

“Oh, don’t worry…” Ethan began.

“…they won’t get another chance to,” Aiden promised, smiling dangerously at the pair as they took advantage of the opportunity to scurry away.

When Stiles tried to return to his locker, Derek caught him by the elbow.

“Nuh-uh. You? Car. Now.” Derek ordered, guiding Stiles toward the exit. He looked around at the pack and said, “Keep your phones on. I’ll text when he’s ready to come back in.” He arched a brow and gave Stiles a purposeful look as he added, “IF I decide he’s ready to come back in.”

“So bossy,” Stiles huffed despite eagerly leaning into Derek’s touch.




The Alpha pair sat together in the backseat of the Camaro for the entirety of the next period, sideways with their legs across the seat, Stiles with his back against Derek’s chest, sitting nestled between his legs. The elder wolf held him close, rubbing soothing circles over his chest and stomach while whispering reassurances into his ear and scenting him. Stiles practically melted into him, soaking up every ounce of love his mate was radiating.

“What did you do to them, by the way?” Derek eventually asked out of curiosity. “And please don’t say, ‘I have no idea,’” he added with a smile plain in his voice.

Stiles laughed and shook his head. “I just made sure they have a long, vivid night of dreams ahead of them,” he answered. Tipping his head back, he gazed up at Derek and said, “They’re going to experience what I went through. What Erica, Boyd, and Isaac went through. All the pain and terror and humiliation and despair inflicted by the Argents and their lackeys, just without the physical injuries to go along with it. When they wake up, Allison will be okay, but Scott is going to spend the entire day completely blind with no medical explanation. It’ll wear off after 24 hours, but it’ll serve them both right. It’s no less than they deserve. And maybe after this, they’ll finally fucking get it.”

Derek took a moment to study his mate, stroking his cheek before declaring, “You know… you’re sort of terrifying.” He barely managed to get the sentence out before he was smiling proudly and leaning down to kiss him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stiles said once they pulled apart. “I’ll come back and try again tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is go home and spend the rest of the day in bed together.”

“I think that can be arranged…” Derek said coyly.




Stiles texted Melissa later that afternoon and assured her that, while Scott would have the night from hell and a certain familiar, inexplicable health issue the following morning, it was only a temporary means of teaching him an important lesson.

Being the saint she was, Melissa simply agreed to contact him if she had any issues.




AUTHOR'S NOTE: In the homestretch now, just tying up all the loose ends. :) 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

Stiles answered the phone at a little after 10:30 that night knowing what to expect. “Yes, Melissa?”

“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you gave him nightmares. Am I right?” she asked.

“Right you are,” Stiles confirmed, exchanging smiles with Derek as his mate propped himself up on an elbow and listened along with the conversation.

“Figured as much,” Melissa sighed. “He’s in there sound asleep, whimpering and screaming, keeps saying ‘please… please…’

Stiles snorted. “Really? He’s begging already? What a punk. Man, he has a long night ahead of him if he’s breaking this soon. He’s barely past Allison stabbing Isaac by this point.”

“Not to be the downer here, but… with him being a werewolf… should I be concerned?” Melissa asked worriedly. “I’m just sitting here wondering what I should do if he starts sleepwalking.”

“No need to worry,” Stiles assured. “He won’t be able to get up or anything. He’s in a state of sleep paralysis until the spell’s finished, so you’re not in any danger. I never would’ve let you be there alone with him if that were the case. But if you get nervous or anything, feel free to call any time – I’ll be up all night, just lying here, smiling to myself…”

“Okay, well you go enjoy that,” Melissa laughed as she ended the call.




A little after 12:00, his phone rang again.

“Yello,” Stiles greeted cheerfully.

“You sound supremely pleased with yourself,” Melissa said in amusement.

“Oh, I am,” he assured. “Just knowing that Scott and Allison are out there tonight getting even a small taste of their long overdue comeuppance brings me joy right to the very depths of my soul,” he said with a blissful sigh.

“Allison’s getting this treatment, too?” Melissa asked in surprise. “Well, it’s a good thing Chris is out of town tonight, then,” she decided. “Otherwise he’d probably be freaking out right now.”

Stiles rolled over and rested his face on Derek’s chest, then put the call on speaker and placed his phone on Derek’s other pec. He fought back a laugh at the little hiss and jump Derek gave in response to the cold phone being placed on his warm, bare skin.

“How are you doing – not freaking out, right?” Stiles asked with a worried frown. “Because we can totally come over there if you need us to.”  

“I’m fine,” Melissa insisted with a smile.

Stiles squinted. “Hmm… you're fully desensitized to Scott’s whining and blubbering by this point in his life, I’m sure,” Stiles teased, earning a laugh from her in response. “How goes my ongoing night of revenge?” he asked curiously.

“By the sounds of it? Quite effectively,” Melissa decided. They could hear her walking up the stairs over the line as she said, “I actually called because I figured you might want to listen to this…”

In the background, the sounds of Scott’s misery grew steadily louder, until she opened his bedroom door, and they could clearly hear him sobbing, “…No… Allison, don’t… Please stop… Why are you doing this?!”

“It’s like music to my ears!” Stiles sighed.

“What exactly is Allison doing in this memory?” Melissa asked.

Stiles glanced over at the clock and said, “At this point? Hunting Erica and Boyd down and shooting them full of arrows for the crime of being werewolves.”

“Right,” Melissa breathed, sounding more than a little disturbed. “And this is the girl he’s mooning over, huh?”

“Yup.” Stiles confirmed. “She’s a real peach – if peaches had pits made of homicidal tendencies and several seemingly hereditary mental illnesses, that is.” He pursed his lips in contemplation for a moment before saying, “After this, Scott’s gonna live through my side of things. And, uh… well, that part’s gonna get LOUD, I’m sure, considering how much he’s carried on already. So, maybe just put on some music or something and try to ignore him.”

“I will,” Melissa assured. She paused before saying, “I’m really glad you were able to do this, honey.” She gave a humorless laugh as she added, “I don’t know what that says about me as a mother, but… Scott should understand what happened to you. And, dense as he is, I can’t see any other way it would have gotten through to him.”

Stiles gave an unconvinced hum in reply. “We’ll see. As someone who was friends with him most of his life, I think his density may prove thicker than even this can hope to pierce.”

Melissa groaned and grudgingly conceded, “I hate that you might be right about that.”




MAMA MCCALL (6:33 AM):  Hoooooooly shit, Stiles. You made him blind!

STILES (6:33 AM):  I really wanted to make sure he got the full, authentic experience. 😊

MAMA MCCALL (6:33 AM):  He is flipping out, but thankfully not leaving his bed. How long will this last?

STILES (6:34 AM):  Just for today.

MAMA MCCALL (6:34 AM):  This is… genius. I don’t know whether to be scared or proud.

STILES (6:35 AM):  Derek says to tell you, “Both. Usually simultaneously. It’s the default where Stiles is concerned lately.”

MAMA MCCALL (6:37 AM):  Does it make me a bad person to find his suffering amusing?

STILES (6:37 AM):  Possibly. But never fear – Derek, Dad, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson, and I all find it deeply amusing, too. So, at least you’re in good company!

MAMA MCCALL (6:38 AM):  It’s truly pathetic over here. He told me a (heavily edited) version of what happened at the school, and I told him – based on what he told me you said – that this was probably just for the day to make him understand what you went through. But he won’t listen AT ALL – shocking, I know. He’s too busy having a pity party.

STILES (6:38 AM):  You have my deepest sympathies.

MAMA MCCALL (6:40 AM):  Oh, I’m not staying here to watch and listen to this nonsense. Allison is coming over to babysit. Apparently, they’re both all worked up about their nightmares last night. Sorry to say it, but I don’t think they’ve learned a damned thing. They’re both talking like you’re the enemy and they’re the victims here.

STILES (6:41 AM):  I’d say I’m shocked, but that’d be total bullshit. At least they’ll be busy with one another for the day. Maybe I’ll actually have a nice day at school.




Dare to dream.

The plan was to get through the day at school with no Scott / Allison drama, and settle into a new, normal routine for the rest of the year. That plan lasted right up until Stiles walked into his last class of the day, and came to a complete stop, staring at the new English teacher with both of his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline.

“What is it?” Isaac asked worriedly beside him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he assessed what he was seeing. It was as if his magic could clearly detect her magic… and her magic was FU-GLY.

“That lady is seriously bad news,” Stiles declared with utter certainty. “Seriously, supernaturally, she probably eats puppies and babies, bad news. BAD. Like, dirty-bad-wrong-and-not-in-a-fun-way. Like, I feel like my magic needs to take a scalding hot bath just from walking in here.”

Boyd frowned and eyed the teacher appraisingly. “How can you tell? I can’t sense anything off about her.”

Stiles scrunched up his face and offered, “I don’t know how to describe it. I can just… see it, I guess?”

The teacher stopped speaking to the student beside her and looked directly at Stiles, a smile spreading across her lips and a gleam coming to her eyes as she studied him.

“Ooh, and she can see me, too,” Stiles assured. “Nope. This is not good. Mark my words.” He sighed as he pouted, “I just wanted a normal, quiet school year. Was that too much to ask for?”




It was.

Because, evidently, his English teacher was actually an evil druid – or ‘Darach’, but whatever – and she was the one responsible for all the murders around town. Turns out, she was attempting a ritualistic homicidal level-up because she was actually on a mission to wipe out the Alpha pack (understandable, given their past.) Also, she was Kali’s ex-girlfriend (which Stiles absolutely felt bad about. Like, can you imagine THAT being your ex? Holy bajeezus. He even offered to give a play by play of how Kali died, because… yikes. And that was before she mentioned that Kali had sliced-and-diced her to the brink of death.)

Still, no matter how sympathetic he was over her epically shitty ex-girlfriend, two facts remained: One, teacher lady was running around killing innocent people, which was just absolutely no bueno. And two, she had decided that Stiles was a prime candidate for her next batch of sacrifices: healers. Because Stiles was a healer. And a powerful one, too. She looked at him and all she could see was a major power boost there for the taking.

Fortunately for Stiles, her focus had been completely on his powers – meaning she failed to notice his wolfy side. So, when she came after him, she only used a spell to bind his magic.


It did not end well for her.




“…‘d you see that?” Stiles asked, slightly disoriented as Derek lifted him up off the ground. “…crazy bitch tried to kill me.”

“I did see it,” Derek assured through clenched teeth, giving him a thorough head-to-toe check for damage. “If you hadn’t gotten to her first, I would have ripped her apart myself.”


Because she was.

Ripped apart, that is.


Into many, many very squishy, yucky pieces.


And Stiles was a bit dazed by the fact that he had done it without a second’s hesitation. Sure, she was an evil, murderous bitch, but she was still… I don’t know… a lady? A delicate, sweet looking schoolteacher? Stiles figured those things would have given him at least a little pause, but no. His wolf instincts had not been swayed in the least by her outward appearance of innocence.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked worriedly. “Did she hurt you?” He cast a murderous glare back at the… pile… that had once been teacher lady.

“I’m good, babe,” Stiles assured. “Just a little disoriented. I’ll be fine in a few.”  

Derek hummed, brows low and determined in a way that made it clear Stiles would be on the receiving end of a lot of fussing, cuddling, and pampering when they got home. (Unanticipated perks of being nearly murdered.)

“Come on, we need to get you out of here and cleaned up,” Derek urged. “I’ll call Peter. He always knows how to make bodies disappear.”

“That… is a totally normal skill for an uncle to have,” Stiles said sarcastically.




“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Stiles sighed when they pulled up to the loft and an unwelcoming committee pulled up directly behind the Camaro, blocking their exit.

Derek let out a low, menacing growl when he identified the culprits.

Stiles reached over and stroked the back of his neck, sending him a wave of reassurance. “It’s fine. We’ll be fine,” he assured.

Derek gave him a fully skeptical glance in response and a purposeful once-over to remind him that he was coated in blood.

Stiles shrugged. There was no way to avoid being seen now. He exited the vehicle confidently, already using his magic to discretely shield him and Derek from any unexpected attacks.

“Chris… Scott… Allison… what brings you all?” he asked in feigned cheer.

Their faces hardened further when they focused on him.

“What did you do?” Scott demanded. His features twisted in horror as he gasped, “Jesus, did you kill someone?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I defended myself from being killed – for the second time in a week, I might add – and yeah, in the process, I killed my would-be-murderer. But it’s all good. She was actually the one who’s been running around town giving a whole new meaning to the word ‘overkill,’ so at least everyone else is safer now.”

Scott opened his mouth, undoubtedly preparing to berate Stiles for his morally ambiguous thinking, but Chris stepped forward and cut him off.

“The sacrifices, you mean?” the elder Argent asked with a frown. “You found the dark druid?”

“I did,” Stiles confirmed with a nod, then squinted and revised, “Well, I guess technically today you could say it was more like she found me. But yeah, either way, she’s been handled. No more extra-dead bodies will be popping up and she didn’t manage to finish her ritual. We’re good.”

Chris narrowed his eyes on Stiles in consideration before nodding, accepting his response.

Scott sputtered in disbelief. “But he killed somebody,” he reminded needlessly, gaping at Chris.

Derek glared at him as he ground out, “Stiles put down a mentally disturbed, out-of-control supernatural being – one with multiple victims under her belt and who was gearing up to kill a lot more people.”

Chris arched a brow at the omega and said, “Derek’s right, Scott. What do you think I would’ve done if I’d found her first? Talked to her? She needed to be handled.”

“We would have at least tried to reason with her first,” Allison insisted haughtily, shoulders back and chin jutting forward, exuding a condescending air of entirely undeserved authority.

Stiles smirked as he looked back and forth between her and Scott and decided they really were a perfect match. “Yes, Allison… because that’s what you’re known for, right? Getting all the facts before harming anyone?” He laughed in amazement and looked over to his mate to make sure he was hearing this bullshit.

Derek, for his part, scowled (beautifully – because, come on, let’s be honest, nobody can make a scowl look as attractive as Derek Hale.)

“Unreal,” Stiles breathed, shaking his head and turning back to their unwelcomed guests. He pointed to Scott and Allison as he said, “And I can tell just by the looks on your faces that neither one of you learned a damned thing from my little gift, did you?”

Chris’ gaze hardened as he asked, “So, you admit that you attacked them?”

“Attacked them?” Stiles repeated incredulously. “Seriously? You call that an attack? It was a nightmare. Neither of them were actually injured – unlike the rest of us. It wasn’t real – not even when Scott was blind. All I did was show them what we’ve experienced thanks to your family. And it’s actually kind of fucking hilarious how you’re all this riled up over being on the receiving end of just a tiny glimpse of the Argents’ handiwork, yet none of you can own up to your own mistakes.”

“You think this is funny?” Scott demanded. “I was blind for the entire day!”

Stiles lunged forward, snatching Scott up by the front of the shirt and hauling him in until their faces were inches apart. His fangs descended as he thundered, “AND I WAS BLIND FOR MONTHS, YOU STUPID, ARROGANT FUCK! NOT THAT YOU EVEN NOTICED!”

Chris had already pulled Allison behind him and leveled a gun at Stiles. Derek’s facial features shifted as he hunched down low, snarling and absolutely seething with rage, red eyes wild and panicked over an Argent threatening the one he loved most. In response, Chris swung his arm to the side, aiming for Derek instead. And while Derek was satisfied with this change, Stiles, decidedly, was not.

The air instantly changed – thickening and crackling with power as Stiles reacted to the threat to his mate. Without taking his eyes off of Scott, he warned in a low, eerily calm tone, “Are you sure you want to do this, Chris?” He blinked slowly, turning his crimson gaze to the hunter as he told him plainly, “Because, if you pull that trigger, if you hurt my mate, all bets are off. And I swear to you, none of you will walk away from here. Do you understand me?”

Chris’ brows rose and pulse elevated. The scent of his fear was deeply satisfying as he glanced back and forth between Stiles and Derek.

“Your mate?” Scott scoffed. “What are you talking about? You’re not even with any – ” He trailed off, brow furrowing as he caught on. “Wait… Oh, shit, do you mean Derek? Seriously? Ugh, what the fuck, dude?” he asked in disgust. “Are you for real? Out of everybody, you picked him?”

Stiles growled in warning, bringing a clawed hand up and gripping Scott’s throat, letting his claws sink in just far enough to break the skin. “Watch your fucking mouth, Scott,” he warned, eyes flickering with power beyond the Alpha spark. “He’s ten times the wolf you could ever be.”

“Like that’s supposed to be a good thing?” Scott snapped. “He’s a fucking animal! You both are!”

Stiles huffed a laugh and asked, “Did you forget you’re a werewolf, too? I mean, you obviously forgot I existed for months on end – it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think that slipped your mind, too.”

“I can never forget! But I’m never going to accept it,” Scott insisted. “I’m gonna find a cure.”

The outrage boiling in Stiles’ veins abruptly cooled as he repeated, “Cure…” A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he said again, “A cure…”

Scott shifted anxiously in his grip, attempting to pull away. “Dude, get off of me,” he whined as he struggled against Stiles’ hold on him.

“No, no… I think you’re right, Scotty,” he said quietly. “I think you’re sick and you need a cure. You really feel like your wolf is an infection, don’t you? Something you want to purge from your system?” He leaned closer as he whispered, “And you’ve always sided with the hunters, haven’t you? I think I can help you…”

Scott’s expression softened as he asked, “Wait, seriously?”

Without another word, Stiles gripped him by the back of the head, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. Scott let out an anguished cry as Stiles’ power flooded him, hunting down its quarry. When he found it, he focused on it – the wolf within his former best friend, the animal side that had been repressed and reviled since the moment it was born.

And Stiles opened his mind to it, offered it shelter and acceptance, the chance to join with his own power and settle. To become a beta to his Alpha – a new aspect to Stiles’ own strength.

It gave way abruptly, and Stiles gasped as his eyes snapped open, briefly overwhelmed by the additional power swirling within him. He smiled, pressing a palm to his chest. The wolf sank into his bones as if finally coming home. It was content in a way that Stiles realized stemmed from his own unwavering acceptance of it since day one. Since Scott was bitten, Stiles had tried everything to get him to accept his wolf. Now, it was free of the burden of feeling perpetually unwanted.

Scott was on his knees, groaning and struggling to stay upright.

Unsurprisingly, neither Argent had ventured forward to check on him or offer aid.

“What… did you do?” Scott asked feebly.

“Exactly what you asked for,” Stiles answered. “You’re no longer a wolf. Congratulations.”

“But… no, you did something else. Something wrong. I feel…” Scott frowned, shaking his head. “I… I’m…”

“Weak?” Stiles guessed as he walked over to his mate. “Hurting?” He grinned as he added, “Painfully human?”

As soon as Stiles was close enough, Derek leaned in, sniffing at his mate’s pulse point and assessing the difference in his scent. He rumbled and nuzzled into it, sensing that – even if the newly embraced wolf in his blood had come from Scott – it was now all Stiles’. Just another layer of the increasingly powerful man he loved.

“You should be thrilled,” Stiles informed Scott. “You got what you said you wanted. You’re cured.” He looked to Chris as he said pointedly, “And we? Are done here.” He turned to walk away, but stopped when Allison spoke.

“He’s not the head of our family,” she declared (for some unknown fucking reason.)

Stiles quirked a brow and exchanged confused glances with Derek before looking back at her and prompting, “And… I care about that… because…?”

Allison’s arrogant expression faltered for a second before she declared, “You should be addressing me. Not my father. He’s not in charge.”

Stiles looked over at Chris and caught it, a little flicker of regret in those steely eyes before the elder Argent schooled his expression.

“Oh… I see,” Stiles said with a nod. “So, the only voice of reason in your whole fucked-up family tree is being sidelined and silenced once again, relegated back to the role of obedient soldier. Hmm… I’m sure that won’t end terribly for all of you,” he said in amusement. “Well, in that case, head of the Argent family Allison, get the fuck off of our property and don’t come back here. I was inarguably justified in killing the Darrach. Your boyfriend is entirely human…”

Allison’s jaw clenched as she looked over at Scott where he was still kneeling, pale and unsteady. Her scent betrayed her intense displeasure.

Stiles’ eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Oh, this was too good. He looked over at Derek and found him wearing a similar knowing grin.

“Just like you both wanted, right?” Stiles asked her cheerfully. “Why, I’m sure you two are just gonna be totes happy together now. Maybe you could even teach him how to hunt…” He frowned and pressed his lips together before suggesting, “Hmm… or maybe just have him carry your weapons bag? Nothing too heavy, though. With his asthma and all, you can’t overexert him…”

Allison’s lips quivered, nearly curling back as she struggled to mask her disapproval.

Stiles paused to enjoy the moment before announcing, “So that’s that. There’s nothing else for us to discuss. Now… kindly fuck off.”

Derek fell into step behind him as they headed for the door, both of them chuckling at the Argents’ expense.



AUTHOR'S NOTE: I should point out that I had to come up with chunks of this chapter unplanned and last minute after all the comments on the last chapter calling for Scott and Allison's suffering LOL I originally had no intentions of getting into their experiences with the curses, so I hope this helped to scratch that itch for you all. No, I am not done making them suffer, though. ;) It's just that the rest was already planned. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!



Chapter Text

The days that followed were wonderfully quiet.

Stiles spent his evenings either having dinner with Derek and his father at the house, or with Derek and the rest of their pack at the loft.

His nights with Derek were split between the two locations, too, and he and Derek had settled into a beautiful routine of intense sexual gratification, followed by snuggles that were equally as mind-blowing, all culminating in long stretches of deep, restful sleep.

Yeah. Life was good.

Actually, no, life freaking rocked, and he was not taking a single second of happiness for granted.

During the week, he attended school with his pack. No more teachers attempted to murder him to harvest his powers (always a plus), Allison was nowhere to be seen (slightly concerning, but also a plus), and Scott, well, he was just a superbly pitiful mess to behold from a distance. Every day the newly re-humanized doofus looked just a little more pathetic. And as Stiles flourished, he took a probably unhealthy level of satisfaction from Scott’s growing misery.

Just before the first Lacrosse practice Stiles attended since his return to school, he and the others were goofing off out on the field – wrestling and chasing one another around. Coach happened to walk by at just the right moment and witnessed Stiles using a bit of his newly found strength and speed…

Coach’s jaw dropped, whistle falling from his lips before he gave a slow, wide, manic grin.


(shrill whistle)



Just like that, Stiles was off the bench.


And, oh, how the tides had turned, because the return of Scott’s asthma meant he could not even make it through warm-ups. He filled Stiles’ newly vacated seat on the bench that very same day.




Derek entered the Stilinski’s kitchen and leaned against the doorway, biting his lip while he watched Stiles cooking. So much power hidden away in that tight, lithe body, and here he was, preparing food for Derek and his father… Derek’s wolf was deeply pleased by his mate’s strong instincts to provide food. It rippled contentedly beneath his skin, itching to strip them both naked and make his appreciation known.

“I feel you back there, you big, sexy creeper,” Stiles teased without turning.

“Just enjoying the view…” Derek flirted, earning a huff of laughter.

“Oh, trust me, I can smell how much you’re enjoying it,” Stiles answered smugly before hiking his t-shirt up in the back and sticking his ass out in a ridiculous, overly obvious manner. He even gave his ass cheek a little smack and it was like ringing the dinner bell.

Derek grinned and quickly crossed the space to get a handful of that ass being put so brazenly on display. He draped himself over Stiles’ back, letting his other hand wander up under his shirt. Derek let out a groan of approval as he dragged his palm over the warm, soft skin of Stiles’ chest and stomach.

“Mmm… I can smell you, too…” he whispered against Stiles’ ear. “Gonna let me smell you up close, pretty baby?” He pressed a triumphant smile against the side of Stiles’ neck when he received a low moan and hard shudder in return.

Honestly, Stiles had not been kidding back when he insisted that ‘anything’ Derek said would work on him. No matter what nickname Derek threw his way – from the sweet to the downright raunchy – he was always all for it.

“Do not tempt me to drop trou in my Dad’s kitchen, dude,” Stiles laughed as he struggled to keep stirring the pot on the stove. “I will totally do it. Dinner be damned. And then you can explain to him why there’s no food and the table is broken and sticky.”

Derek muffled a laugh, then sighed in feigned exasperation and pressed his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me dude, especially when I’m about to get you off?”

“Oh, you can tell me all you want,” Stiles said with a grin. “It just loses its effectiveness now that I can smell the real reason you didn’t want me calling you that. You fucking like it, Sourwolf. Don’t front.”

Derek hummed and nipped at the side of his mate’s throat. “You caught me. I find your idiocy confusingly hot.”

“Yeah, ya do!” Stiles snorted victoriously.

Derek chuckled and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ front, pulling him back flush against him. “Mmm… come here, my idiot,” he said with a smile. Bringing a hand up to cup Stiles’ cheek, he guided him to turn his face so that he could kiss him deeply.

Stiles moaned and abandoned his efforts to keep stirring their dinner. Fuck it, he decided, Derek Hale’s tongue was in his mouth and that was never, ever going to get old. He’d just have to order Chinese or something…


The sound of Stiles’ phone buzzing on the counter interrupted them, and Derek let out a low growl.


“Ignore it,” Derek mock-pouted against his lips, then devoured the smile it earned him.

“…can’t,” Stiles muttered between kisses.

They had a rule that no one in the pack would ever ignore their phones – not with the way things were around Beacon Hills.

With a disappointed sigh, Derek stretched over and grabbed Stiles’ phone. Holding it up beside his face, he raised both glorious eyebrows and declared, “If this isn’t urgent, I’m gonna get down on my knees and blow you right here while you finish making us dinner.”

Stiles stared at him in slack-jawed amazement before swearing, “Holy fuck, you are unreal. I love you, dude. You’re a wet dream come true. You know that, right? Just… flawless. Perfection. Total boyfriend / mate goals.”

Derek grinned as he handed over the phone. “Love you, too, brat,” he said before waving for him to answer it already.

“Heyya, Melissa!” Stiles greeted, watching Derek hungrily as the born-wolf slowly and purposefully ran his tongue over his lips to wet them. “How are things? No emergencies, I hope.” He pressed his lips together and squinted, praying that this would be a quick call.

“No emergency, but I thought you should know the latest news…” Melissa began, sounding a little muffled and echoey.

“Where are you?” Stiles asked in amusement.

“In my bathroom,” she laughed. “It’s nice to be able to duck into another room and not be overheard for a change. Anyway… so, you know how I told you that Allison has been avoiding Scott this week? Well, she finally just dumped him about an hour ago.”

Stiles and Derek both burst out laughing.

“Noooo… what? This is so completely unexpected,” Stiles said sarcastically.

“I know. Shocking,” Melissa laughed. “Apparently, according to her, their ‘lives are just heading in different directions now’ and she doesn’t want him ‘in harm’s way.’”

Derek scoffed. “Bullshit. She just wants another wolf to play with while she pretends we’re all the enemy.” He frowned as he pulled out his phone. “Which reminds me, I need to warn the pack to be on the lookout for her trying to get in touch.”

Stiles hummed that this was a good idea. “Check Isaac first. Allison’s not stupid enough to risk Erica’s wrath by going after Boyd. And she’d have Lydia on her ass if she went near Jackson… or Aiden, for that matter. Lydia does not share her toys. Unless it’s with Ethan, but that’s beside the point.”

Derek nodded along with him as he typed up a text.

“So, how bad is Scott?” Stiles asked, returning his attention to the call. “Are we at weeping-into-tubs-of-ice cream level depression yet?”

“Not yet,” Melissa said in amusement. “He’s just sitting on his bedroom floor, bawling about how unfair his life is. I tried to remind him that this is what he wanted, but you know him. Can’t tell him anything.”

Derek’s loud clip of laughter caused Stiles to turn.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Allison already called Isaac a few minutes ago asking him to meet up,” Derek answered.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked in astonishment. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Derek relayed from his texts. “Apparently, he couldn’t talk because he was laughing too hard.”

“Well, I guess she was sort of telling the truth,” Stiles offered in amusement. “Their lives are heading in different directions – and hers is leading her in the direction of the first wolf she can convince to screw her.”

Derek frowned and got a contemplative look on his face.

Stiles studied him for a matter of seconds before catching on – Allison was going into full-blown Kate mode, which history reflected was a potentially deadly situation.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep tabs on her,” Stiles assured quietly as he took his hand.

Derek looked up at him in surprise, and his eyes softened as he realized Stiles knew the direction his thoughts had taken him. He nodded and smiled, comforted by the strength of his mate and the strength of his pack.




There Stiles was, just minding his own business, sitting at one of the tables outside the school enjoying his lunch with his pack when he was approached and asked the single stupidest question in the history of stupid questions.

He stared in abject incomprehension at the one speaking to him because… no. He must have heard this wrong. He was absolutely certain of it.

“I’m sorry… what?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“I want you to give me the bite,” Scott repeated. Again.

“I’m sorry… what?” Stiles repeated. Also again. Because, just, what?

The pack was watching their interaction in open astonishment and, in some cases, outright glee (Jackson – who had his phone out and was recording the moment for future enjoyment.) Their heads pivoted from side to side, completely riveted as they looked back and forth between the former friends. Lydia was texting Derek without ever taking her eyes off of the scene.

Scott huffed impatiently and rolled his eyes as if Stiles was the issue in this scenario.

“I need the bite,” he reiterated. “And there’s no way I’d ever ask Derek for it, obviously,” he scoffed, curling his lip in distaste (utterly oblivious to the fact that his continued disrespect of Derek was making it, if at all possible, even less likely that he would get what he was asking for.) “But it’s all good, dude,” he said cheerfully. “Because you’re an Alpha now, too. So, you can just bite me, and then everything will go back to normal.”

Stiles let out a clip of near hysterical laughter before looking around at the others. “Is he for real?” he asked, holding up a hand toward Scott. He turned his attention back to the moron in question as he asked, “Are you for real right now?”

“Yes!” Scott insisted as he scowled (completely unattractively, might I add – for, Derek Hale, he was not.)

Stiles stared up at him for a moment, frozen in disbelief. “I’m just…” He tilted his head to the side and covered his mouth with his hand as he struggled to comprehend this level of cluelessness. “Were you – at birth or recently – dropped on your head by any chance?” he finally asked, only partially joking.

“No,” Scott said with a frown. He huffed miserably as he said, “Look, everything is all wrong now. I can’t be with Allison. I can’t play on the team. You don’t talk to me anymore. I just… I want things to go back to the way they were before.” He even gave a hopeful smile, too. As if it were all that simple. As if he could just turn back into a werewolf, and all would be forgiven. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Jackson let out a high-pitched, choked off sound of astonishment. The rest of the pack were staring at Scott in blatant incredulity. But Scott did not seem to notice them all reaching the general consensus that he was an irredeemable moron.

“Woo, boy,” Stiles exhaled heavily as he ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Where do I even start?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Sitting up straight, he decided on, “I guess, for starters… No. Just… No, Scott. Even if your body would accept the bite now – which it won’t – there is no version of events that would ever lead to me wanting to bite you. Why in God’s name would I want you for a beta?” he asked in confusion. “You’ve never once appreciated or listened to me. You never gave a fuck about me beyond what I could do for you. You’re arrogant. Self-righteous. Disrespectful. You think you’re morally superior, when the truth is, you just don’t have the balls to do what it takes to keep those around you safe.

“So, no, Scott. No bite for you. You pissed and moaned for a year about how terrible your life was as a werewolf and I listened to all of it. I did everything I could think of to help you, but you never appreciated it, never saw it as the gift it could be. Now, it’s gone. And that was your call. You were dead, set, and determined to be human again. Well, here you are. And there is no going back. Even if I – or any other Alpha, for that matter – were to try and bite you, it wouldn’t do anything.”

Scott frowned deeply, glancing over at Aiden and Ethan with a pleading look in his eyes.

The twins both scoffed and looked away.

“Don’t even fucking try it, man,” Aiden laughed.

“You denied the wolf, Scott,” Stiles reminded him purposefully. “That was a one-time opportunity, and you turned your nose up at it. And now, you only want it back because you’re a nobody again. Well, guess what? That’s who you’ve always been. The wolf was the only part of you worth anything. The wolf made you strong enough to be co-captain of the Lacrosse team. The wolf attracted your crazy ass ex-girlfriend – just like other wolves are attracting her now that she’s ditched you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott asked dumbly.

“See for yourself,” Stiles said as he pulled up a screenshot Isaac had sent him of Allison’s increasingly desperate texts, including some seriously NSFW pics and videos. “This is what she’s been sending to a member of my pack for days on end.” He held up his phone for Scott to see and watched the horror on his face as he read her messages and invitations to Isaac.

“What…? But… No, she said… Why would she…?” Scott asked, and a telltale wheeze began chasing each breath he took.

Stiles reached out on reflex and pulled the inhaler from Scott’s back pocket, where it always used to be, and pressed it into his palm. Scott absently nodded in agreement with the unspoken instruction, shaking his inhaler and taking a puff of the medicine before his asthma attack could hit full force. It was strange how second-nature the action still was for both of them, how normal it used to be for them – a sign of their deep friendship and bond when they were little.

It was utterly void of meaning now.

“What you and Allison had? That wasn’t love,” Stiles said as he put away his phone. “It wasn’t real. She might’ve even convinced herself that it was for a while there, but the fact is, she was just playing with you. Having fun. But you’re not fun for her anymore. Not the forbidden fruit. And deep down, she’s just as crazy as her aunt. As her mom. As her grandfather. Derek tried to warn you from the start, but you refused to listen.”


Speaking of that impossibly gorgeous, stubbly-jawed devil…


Everyone looked up as the Camaro sped into the parking lot and pulled up to the curb. The driver’s side window rolled down and Derek gave Stiles an expectant look as he nodded his head in the direction of the passenger seat, wordlessly summoning his mate to leave the stressful situation and come to him.

And who was Stiles to deny an offer like that?

“Just…” Stiles sighed and shook his head before standing and grabbing his bookbag. “It’s all over, man,” he told Scott. “This is you now, and you’re just going to have to accept it. No more supernatural stuff. No werewolves. No hunters. No Stiles. That part of your life is done. And you have no one to blame but yourself.”

He took a second to memorize the dawning look of realization on Scott’s face that this was it, that Stiles was serious, before addressing his pack.

“Scott is on his own, understand?” Stiles asked, waiting for them to nod. “Leave him alone. Don’t torment him, but don’t talk to him, either. He made his choice.”

Stiles paused a second longer to close this chapter in his heart, then knocked on the table twice.

“I’ll see the rest of you later,” he said before setting out down the sidewalk.

Derek climbed from the car, all predatory grace, and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and waiting for him.

Stiles grinned as he stretched up to steal a quick, hungry kiss. “Hey, sexy,” he greeted.

Derek arched a brow over those damnably hot mirrored sunglasses. “Sexy, huh?” he chuckled. “Get your ass in the car – I’ll show you sexy,” he teased, biting at Stiles’ bottom lip before swatting him on the ass and nudging him toward the car.

Stiles’ head fell back as he laughed and dropped down into the seat. Derek grinned to himself as he closed the car door and jogged around to his own side. As soon as he was in and the door was shut, he put it in drive and took Stiles’ hand, bringing it up to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, then interlocked their fingers as he peeled out of the parking lot.

Erica smiled as she declared, “That right there… what those two dorks have… THAT is love.” She glanced in Scott’s direction as she said, “In case anyone around here needed an example for future reference.”

The pack stood from the table and gathered their belongings.

And then they walked away without a backward glance, leaving Scott all alone…

As he would be from that day forward.



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Probably one last chapter after this. What do you think so far? 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!

Chapter Text

Allison done. fucked. up.

That was all Stiles could think to himself as he stared in shock at the scene before him.

The wayward huntress had finally returned to school – likely because she had failed to lure Isaac away via texts. And when Isaac had continued laughing and declining her offers in person, she got angry. And desperate.

Which translated into sloppy and stupid, apparently, because she approached…


Wait for itttttt




And Jackson.


Oof, bad idea. Just. Such a very extremely bad, bad, terrible idea. Because, as luck would have it, Lydia was among those who walked in on the attempt to rustle up interest from both of her boys.


Hey, do you know that thing Banshees are most known for?

That wail?

Did you know that if a certain strawberry blonde goddess is sufficiently pissed off, she can shout a slut across the room like she’s the freaking Dovahkiin from Skyrim?

Well, it was news to everyone present, too.

EPIC. That was the only way to describe the way Allison was sent flying backward across the room before crashing through a desk.

Lydia stood with her hands still outstretched and teeth bared as she glared daggers down at the defeated huntress. Jackson and Aiden were standing, slack-jawed, behind her, until they exchanged a grin and ushered her out of the room.

Stiles sighed as he crossed the classroom and crouched down beside Allison. He shook his head while she groaned and rolled in place, clutching her ribs.

“You just never learn, do you?” Stiles asked in amazement. His expression hardened when she scowled up at him. “Consider this your final warning: Stay the fuck away from my pack.”




“I just wish they would go away,” Stiles said as he curled up beside Derek that night.

Derek hummed in agreement as he stroked his hair. “Me, too.”

“It’s like the Argent family curse,” Stiles said with a heavy sigh. “They all just have this inability to stand other people thriving and being happy. They have to come along and try and destroy it.”

“We won’t let them destroy it for us, baby,” Derek whispered sweetly against his brow.

Stiles smiled and cuddled closer.


Silence settled over the room.


It lasted right up until Stiles frowned and asked, “Hey… have you seen Peter or Deucalion around lately?”




Unbeknownst to Stiles, his two self-appointed ‘furry godfathers’ (although they surely would never refer to themselves as such) had been quite busy…




It happened a couple of days after Lydia shouted Allison down. Derek had just driven Stiles home from school. When they entered the Stilinski residence, they found Deucalion and Peter standing in his living room waiting for them, both looking deeply pleased with themselves.

Stiles and Derek stopped short, eyeing them with open trepidation.

“Why do you two look like the cats that ate the canary?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

In reply, Peter simply aimed the controller over his shoulder at the TV and un-paused the news report he had been watching.

The screen was filled with video of a building fully engulfed in flames as the reporter said:


 “…responding to the blaze discovered the bodies of three family members inside the structure. Police have since released their identities as: Gerard Argent – age 63, Chris Argent – age 42, and Allison Argent – age 17.”


Stiles gasped and reached out, gripping Derek’s hand tightly.  


“Viewers may recognize the Argent name, as members of their family have made headlines several times recently. Victoria Argent – late wife of Chris and mother of Allison – died earlier this year by suicide. Also, Kate Argent – daughter of Gerard and sister of Chris – died last year as a result of injuries sustained during a mountain lion attack. It has since come to light that Kate was responsible for coordinating the 2005 arson of the Hale mansion and the murders of 11 members of the Hale family.”


Derek leaned into Stiles’ side, silently grateful that the reporter had phrased it in such a way – making it clear that his family was murdered, rather than simply ‘died in the fire.’


“In recent months, the remaining Argents were the subjects of several ongoing investigations for their ties to multiple crimes including unsolved homicides, human trafficking, assault, kidnapping, illegal weapons trading, and more. It was rumored that the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s department was preparing to arrest all three family members in the coming weeks.

“At this time, authorities are treating today’s fire as an arson. News 10’s sources close to the investigation have revealed that a letter was received by Sheriff Stilinski’s office this morning, reportedly sent by the eldest Argent – Gerard. In it, sources say he confessed to the murders of his son and granddaughter, as well as his own suicide in the fire.

“Officials are still on the scene, and our team will continue bringing you live coverage of this developing story as more information becomes available…”


Peter paused the report and waited for their reactions.

Stiles and Derek slowly turned toward him and Deucalion with matching looks of astonishment.

“I would like to revise my earlier statement...” Stiles declared. “You look like the cats that just killed the entire family of rats, and are now proudly presenting their dead bodies hoping for praise.”

Peter gave an award-winning portrayal of innocence as he insisted, “I have no idea what you are talking about. We were simply ensuring that you were made aware of an important development in our local news. Weren’t we?”

“Oh, yes. Certainly,” Deucalion confirmed with a grin.

“Uh huh…” Derek said skeptically, arching a brow and crossing his arms over his chest as he asked his uncle, “And this wouldn’t, by any chance, be the thing you were referring to when you said you had finally realized what you came back from the dead to do, would it?”

Peter held eye contact with him for several, tense, silent seconds before blinking slowly and turning back toward the television. With a sniff, he said, “Did I say something along those lines at some point? I honestly don’t recall.”


They all stood in front of the television in silence for several minutes.


Stiles cleared his throat before saying, “Well… I mean… Allison was young and all… but she did hunt Erica and Boyd down and fill them with arrows. And she did help Gerard catch them so he could torture them.”

Derek ground out a tense, ‘uh huh’ before adding, “She also stabbed Isaac. Repeatedly. And she watched Kate torture me.”

“Soooo… not really any loss,” Stiles granted.

The other three nodded along with him.

Eventually, Stiles said dryly, “Bet Scott’s just torn to pieces over this.”

“Not yet,” Peter said matter-of-factly, smirking over at him as he added, “But that can easily be arranged.”

Stiles and Derek exchanged mildly concerned glances as Peter and Deucalion set out for the door.

Just before Peter pulled it open, he paused and looked back at them. “Oh, just hypothetically, if someone had been tracking Gerard and plotting for him to die by deeply justifiable homicide, as opposed to what the official reports will reflect, it would not be beyond the realm of imagination to consider that they might have inadvertently overheard a meeting take place between the three recently deceased Argents…”

Stiles’ jaw clenched in outrage. So much for Chris and Allison having separated themselves from Gerard.

Deucalion hummed and nodded. “Yes, that very well could have happened. And – in that purely theoretical scenario – the trio might have mentioned a certain newly bitten Alpha by name.” His smile turned deadly as he said, “Why they may have even discussed in depth how he was a danger that needed to be taken out before he could come into his powers any further.”

Derek’s expression was absolutely homicidal – which was fine, considering the ones he wanted dead were… well, already dead.

Peter smiled and said, “And, were that the case, I’d be willing to bet the ones who overheard this plot would have reacted accordingly. They would have made sure that Gerard cried for hours on end, pleading for forgiveness while receiving a slow, thorough, firsthand reenactment of every torture he ever dished out to members of our pack. And then, before he was allowed to die, he would have watched his family perish in the flames – a truly fitting and deserving end.”

Deucalion added, “It’s definitely possible that Chris would have been offered a pardon from such a fate, and that he would ultimately have decided to just be done with it all. That even he agreed it was time to finally end the Argent line and all the evil it wrought.”

Peter turned and exchanged truly frightening smiles with Deucalion before adding, “Strictly hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” Deucalion echoed.

Letting out a sigh of supreme contentment, Peter dipped his head to them and walked out the door.

Deucalion grinned, winked, and said by way of farewell, “Alphas,” before following the elder Hale outside and closing the door behind them.  


Stiles and Derek remained in place for a long time, processing all of this.


“So… Peter’s falling right back into his old position as Left Hand, isn’t he?” Stiles noted, pressing his lips together and squinting at the door thoughtfully.

Derek hummed in agreement, eyes widening.

“Gonna be seriously useful having him around…” Stiles conceded. “Especially with how well he and Deucalion seem to get along.”

“This is true,” Derek admitted.


Another moment passed in silence.


“We should definitely keep him on a short leash, though,” Stiles commented finally.

“Oh, absolutely. The shortest,” Derek agreed emphatically.





Man, I can't believe this got so long! I was originally only planning for this to be a one-shot because I couldn't get the scenes in the first couple of chapters out of my head. I actually considered having Stiles die when Peter and Derek found him, but as I wrote, the story just continued developing from there and I had to give the boys a happy ending. 

Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts or lines?

Remember, your comments = my writing motivation!