Chapter Text
Stiles knew all the lore, all right? Even with the gaps that Creepy Uncle Peter had left (and seriously, dude, what’s up with that?! Leaving giant holes in important details is not the way to get people to join your club… just saying…), Stiles had plenty of books and the wonderful power of the internet to fill in the blanks. There were things that were obvious, like the Alpha or Alpha pair of the pack being the leaders and that omegas were lone wolves and sometimes, when they were earning the right to stay, the proverbial (and sometimes literal) bitches of the local pack. He knew that werewolves were actually better than their furry kin when it came to scent, and he learned the hard way how important it was that pack smell… well, like pack. That was a lesson learned thanks to Scott and Isaac’s almost constant cuddling after Scott became the Alpha, and then when Derek and Cora came back, they were just as bad until everyone had settled. Now it was nothing for the entire pack to be entwined on a random piece of furniture or even the floor, with Stiles, Allison, Danny, and Lydia in the middle. Stiles was pretty sure that was a protection thing, and he wasn’t going to argue with it.
He also knew about the eyes. It had confused him at first – Jackson’s eyes were definitely blue, not the yellow-gold he’d come to associate with beta ‘wolves. At first he’d thought it was a sign of power, and shuddered at the thought of that pretentious, self-centered douche being second in command or something. After hearing Peter’s (extremely biased) tale about Derek and Paige, he had thrown himself into study, needing to know how much of the ex-Alpha’s words could actually be trusted.
Two words kept hitting him, over and over again. ‘Innocent life.’ If a werewolf takes an innocent life, his eyes will turn blue. It explained Derek, Jackson, and Peter. It also made him feel a little better about Cora, and he watched Isaac carefully for a while after his studies – the youngest beta sometimes had a hair-trigger and he wanted a warning if he was going to lose it.
He also speculated. It would take up entire afternoons sometimes, where he’d sit in a café and think about his friends, or random strangers, and what color their eyes would be if they gained a furry problem.
He didn’t have to speculate about himself. He knew what everyone would see. It was one of the reasons he didn’t ask Scott to bite him after Danny took the plunge (bright gold eyes, really pretty against his tan skin). Everyone seemed to expect him too, Derek even asked why he was hesitating, but Stiles wasn’t ready for them to know. He figured he’d probably never be ready for them to know, honestly.
Of course, none of that really mattered now, all things considered. He was laid out on Deaton’s table, dealing with the really weird sensation of his skin resealing on fast forward. He could hear only three heartbeats in the room, and wondered who was stuck dragging his Jeep out of the ravine it had been pitched into. He was just thankful he wouldn’t have to explain it to his dad… the vacation turned early retirement that he had gone on turned into a cross-country trek with Scott’s mom and an RV.
Man, his brain was worse than usual with the randomness.
He groaned softly, lifting a hand to his head to check the worst of the cuts (completely healed, gotta love the nifty werewolf mojo). He heard Scott’s yelp, just barely made out Derek’s soft exhalation of breath, and then had his arms full of a wriggling, crying, angry Alpha.
“Stiles, I’m sorry… I had to, I know you didn’t really want it, but you were going to die, and dammit, what were you thinking?! It was snowing; you know that bridge gets icy, why the hell were you out in this mess, what is wrong with you?” Scott was alternating between wrapping him in his arms and shaking him viciously.
“Y-your bedside manner could use a little work, Scotty.” He sat up slowly, not looking at anyone. His hand found Scott’s and squeezed. “It’s ok… trust me, I’d rather be a werewolf than be dead. I promise, Scott… it’s fine. I’m not upset or anything.” Dammit… Derek’s quick breath said he heard the lie, even if Scott was too upset to catch it. He risked a quick glance at the older man and shook his head subtly.
“Ugh, whatever. You’re coming back to the Hale place and we’re gonna get you cleaned up. Lydia really wants to yell at you, but I told her she had to wait until you were at least mobile. I’m sure Allison’s pissed too; she had that worry line between her eyebrows. That’s never a good sign, Stiles, just so you know.” Scott was carefully pulling him off the table, steadying him gently. Deaton nodded at them as they walked out the door. A second glance back at the vet showed Stiles his worst fear… the normally stoic man was obviously disappointed, his lips turned into a disapproving frown. Stiles was sure he’d seen his eyes and was suddenly terrified of everyone else’s reaction.
Derek at his elbow startled him all over again and he surprised himself with a whimper that was definitely more wolf than human. The older man wrapped an arm around his waist, nodding to Scott. “I’ll take him. You should go ahead and let everyone know that he’s alive and healing.” Stiles felt them communicating silently, but Scott finally nodded.
“Yeah, all right. Be careful, ok?” When they both nodded, he bounded off into the darkness, shifting quickly into his alpha form.
Stiles was in the passenger seat of the Camaro and Derek was pulling out onto the road before the ex-alpha spoke. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Nothing. Why would anything be wrong? Other than my Jeep being totaled… that sucks. A lot. Oh my god, I haven’t been without a car since I turned 16. Seriously, 4 years, man. What am I going to do?”
“Stiles. Stop bullshitting me. Your heart is racing and your eyes keep flickering.”
Stiles whipped his face up, staring at Derek. He could feel his eyes widen, knew he was shaking, but couldn’t help it. The car was suddenly too small, too hot. He couldn’t catch his breath and his chest hurt. He didn’t even notice that Derek had pulled the car over until he was pulled out into the cold December air and a large, warm hand rested above his heart.
“Breathe with me, Stiles. C’mon. In… out… in…out. Deep breaths, match my pace.” It took only a few minutes before he was dragging in shaky breaths, collapsing against Derek’s chest with a soft sob. “It’s all right to be… overwhelmed. It’ll get easier, I promise.”
“Th-that’s not it. That’s not… I don’t care. I don’t care about being a werewolf; I really would rather be alive. I just… I… they’re blue, aren’t they? God, I didn’t want Scott to know… but they are, and he’ll ask and I’ll have to tell him because hello, Alpha and I just…” The rest of his frightened rant was cut off as Derek wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back gently.
“What are you talking about? Your eyes? They’re yellow, Stiles. Yellow. They only turn blue if you’ve-”
“Killed someone, I know. I did. I mean, I didn’t mean to, but it happened and it was my fault and I wasn’t ready for… wait. They’re… yellow? Are you serious? You’re not serious right now, are you? Derek, this is a really bad time to develop a sense of humor.”
“I have a… idiot. They’re yellow, not blue. I don’t know who you think you’ve killed, but…” At his pause, Stiles lifted his head to look at him, still terrified of seeing the regret and disgust on his face. “Your mother. You think you killed your mother?” Sadness, worry, a bit of anger, but no pity, no disgust. Derek just tightened his arms, pulling Stiles against him again.
“I did. I was there. The-the day she died. I had gotten an A on a math test I was sure I was going to bomb. I had to show her. She had been helping me study, even though she was stuck in the hospital. The nurses warned me that she wasn’t having a good day, but I was so damned stupid… so proud of myself that I just… I didn’t care. Because, ya know, my grade would totally cheer her up and make her feel better when all the chemo and surgeries in the world weren’t doing shit.” He could hear the loathing in his voice, but couldn’t make himself stop. “She smiled, told me how proud she was of me… and then all the monitors started screeching and there were nurses shoving me back and one of them grabbed me and threw me in the hall. She wasn’t the only one yelling, but she… I can still hear her. ‘I told you to let her sleep. I told you to leave her alone. No one cares about a stupid test when they’re dying!’ She was right… I should have just…”
He whimpered again, trying to pull away from Derek. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to touch him after all that. But he was reeled back against the solid, warm chest. “She was wrong. Stiles, listen to me. You didn’t kill your mother. Jesus… they’re yellow, not blue. You didn’t kill her. You probably made her really happy that she got to see you a final time before she died.”
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t really process what was going on. The only thing he could do was cling to Derek like he was a lifeline (an anchor, his mind whispered deviantly. Shut up, mind.) His shaking shook them both, and through it all, Derek just rubbed his back and nuzzled their cheeks together. A phone chirp sounded like a small explosion coming from Derek’s pocket. He tapped out a quick reply then nudged Stiles towards the car.
“C’mon. Everyone’s getting worried, let’s get to the house. You need to shower and change.”
As they drove, Derek kept a hand on Stiles’ knee, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. When they pulled up the renovated Hale house, he squeezed lightly. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I’m… I’ll be fine.” He was still shaking; still overwhelmed from everything that had happened. And so tired it was like an ache in his bones. But as they got out of the car and Derek led them towards the house, toward his pack, he felt something settle. He’d always carry the pain of losing his mother, he knew that. But maybe… just maybe… his pack, his family could help him lose some of the guilt.