Chapter Text
Derek’s heart slams against his ribcage as he hears a howl off in the distance. It’s coming from someone too young to be able to howl that way, someone who knows loss and pain. It sounds like Derek did when he was a teenager, and Derek knows immediately that it’s Boyd. The intensity of the howl breaks his heart, and he doesn’t have to be in even Beta form to howl back, a reassurance. He would be with his children as soon as he could, without risking their lives. Because a freshly transformed alpha was downright dangerous to even the strongest of beta wolves. He couldn’t transform back without his anchor. And Derek didn’t even know the young boy who had become his anchor in a matter of moments. The tall, lanky, awkward boy, with big brown eyes and short brown hair. The boy who showed his heart, shining through his eyes like he was trying to project his emotions. Even if Derek wasn’t a werewolf, he could have felt the boy’s feelings. The boy was a definite projector- somebody who knowingly or unknowingly could make their emotions felt by others. Projectors were dangerous to werewolves because they could manipulate a werewolves’ feelings.
Derek is brought out of his thoughts by another wailing howl, this one tiny and more of a screech than a howl. He has never heard this howl before but knows immediately it’s one of his brood- most likely Jackson. The howl is nowhere near where Derek heard Boyd and that concerns him endless amounts. Why are his children separated? And why is Jackson howling? He’s only five years old. He shouldn’t even be able to shift yet. He can barely speak. And more importantly, why were they howling and separated, when the last time Derek checked, they were with their mother? Derek’s heart suddenly picks up speed and his breathing gets ragged. These feelings aren’t his own, but they are strong enough to be felt as if they belonged to him. His wolf whines inside of him and paces. His mind reels. Derek searches the woods around him for someone that could be riling his wolf up and comes up empty handed. Derek’s wolf projects images of his children, and Boyd, and the pale boy from last night. When Derek finally catches onto these images, his wolf snarls viciously and before Derek can control it, he’s on all fours, in full alpha form, running to the town center, straight to the edge of the woods.
His wolf wills him to howl in return, to summon his children to him for safe keeping. His heart slams against his chest and his consciousness fights against his animal instincts. Before Derek even realizes it, he’s standing by the edge of the road, in between Beacon Hills High and the center of town. A jeep flies by, the same jeep that was in the driveway of the lanky boy last night, and Derek’s wolf manages to force a howl out from his lips, now human lips. He’s standing at the edge of the road, holding a clump of clothing in his left hand, right balancing him against the tree, and his human side is suddenly in control again. Derek is beginning to know exactly what his wolf’s submission to this boy means, but his strong determination to neglect it is firmly in place, and that’s how he intends it to stay.
He throws on his clothes, and strolls out onto the road. He walks the rest of the way to the police station, where he smells packminecubsfamilydeathpainsadness all at once and his wolf stands tall, just beneath the surface of his calm exterior. He holds his head high and gives off the distinct impression of being in charge of the entire situation. Until he’s not. Because when Derek walks in, the first thing he sees is his teenaged anchor holding his twins, while they sleep peacefully in his arms.
The tall, strong preteen, who claims to be the children’s adoptive brother stands and walks to the door when an intimidating man in leather opens the Sheriffs door. Stiles stands, but the man casts him the coldest look Stiles has ever received and it chills him to the bone. He feels as if his heart stops, and he feels more rejected than he ever had when Lydia had turned him down when they were younger. The two girls who are sitting on the bench seat across from him both stand up when the boy, Boyd, who had been sitting between them, stood. They paced over to the man and fell into what appeared to be defensive poses.
“Boyd, sweety, Sheriff wants you to stay seated. Your head is injured, and he still needs to question you more. Would you please sit back down?” Allison tries, but Stiles can already tell, before the words are out of her mouth, that Boyd would not even pay attention to her. So Stiles stands, with the two children in his arms, and walks the few paces to arrive in front of the new visitor. The man glares at Stiles, but it’s lacking a certain fire, and Stiles can feel the man’s concern for his children.
“These are yours, I believe?” Stiles begins, handing the twin children to the grown man in front of him. “And your other son, Scott? He’s at the hospital. There’s a lot you need to be caught up on, and a lot of questioning you’re going to have to deal with.” Stiles continues on, because this is what he’s good at- He’s good at talking and even sometimes at intimidation. “I’ll go get my father- He’s the sheriff- I’ll go get him and tell him you’re here. Assuming you’re their father?” Stiles looks at Boyd, “Or their legal guardian?” The tall man nods, and shifts the little blonde girl in his arms. She mewls and the man rubs his stubble against her forehead. She immediately calms down. The other little boy, with his curly brown hair and fair skin, wakes quietly and puts his hand against Derek’s neck. His small hands have long, sharp nails for a baby, and they slice a tiny bit into the man’s neck. The man doesn’t even flinch, and when Stiles goes to ask if he’s alright, the lines are gone, leaving Stiles to wonder if he imagined the cuts.
“Derek.” Boyd starts, “Aine is dead.” Stiles breathe hitches in his throat, and he fights the urge to reach out and take back the twins, now both awake in Derek’s arms. Derek doesn’t as much as flinch, but turns his eyes, which had been piercing Stiles until this very moment, onto Boyd. Boyd drops back a step or two, and bows his head. His eyes stare blankly at the ground. Derek nods, and even though Boyd had no way to see it, he lifts his head as if responding to the minute head movement. Stiles steps forward, just a bit more, and tries to smile disarmingly. The two tiny twins are making sounds akin to the ones a baby wounded animal would make and it’s destroying Stiles’ heart.
“Boyd. Go find Jackson.” Derek says, and Boyd moves to leave the building. Lydia steps forward, blocking the young male.
“I’m sorry, but you need to remain here.” She says. “The Sheriff will be with you in a moment.” She turned her head to face Stiles, “Go get him, Stilinski.” Stiles nods and turns, opening the door to his father’s inner most office. His father is sitting behind his wide mahogany desk, complete with a computer and scanner. He looks at least ten years older than his actual age, which Stiles attributes in part to the current affairs going on in his work, but as well to his mother’s early death and Stiles knack for trouble. Those are year advancements he can’t get rid of by solving this crime. Stiles takes a step forward and inclines his head towards his father.
“Dad… Their father just arrived. And I could be wrong, but… I think it’s Derek Hale. Oh, god, Dad. I just… I can’t be the one to tell him he’s lost even more family.”