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At full capacity, the Jeep sat five. The logistics of five seats and six teenagers were fundamentally incompatible, and Braeden just shook her head when they turned as a collective to look at her. "Nuh uh," she said. "My contract is fulfilled. And I wasted my extra gas with that one riding pillion out here." She nodded to Scott, who set his uneven jaw and nodded back.
"We can fit, guys," he said, all earnestness and True Alpha determination.
"Of course we can!" Lydia, equal parts glib, manic and exasperated. She shut her eyes and pursed her lips, and repeated, "Of course we can." Like a conductor she directed Scott to the front passenger seat, Kira onto his lap, Malia in the back left seat, herself to the back right. Confused and shell-shocked newly teenaged Derek got the middle.
"But... who are you?" Derek mumbled. There were smears of dirt on his face and shirt.
It should have been momentous but instead it was just tired, when Lydia told him, "We're your pack."
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They'd gone through the rigors of group music selections on the way down, which had been its own brand of special torture. They kept the radio off to preserve sanity, which meant inside the Jeep the sound of their own sighs and shifting bodies magnified. The Jeep rattled a bit as they drove on uneven road, and the darkness deepened. No one mentioned stopping for the night to get some rest. No one talked much, at all, except for when Stiles pulled over to a gas station to fill up and they all got out to use the bathrooms.
Well, Lydia had to strongly motion for Malia to come with her and Kira. Malia sort of understood that indoor plumbing was better than the great outdoors, and she did seem to appreciate that flushing waste away was easier than burying or otherwise obliterating her scent trail, but she wasn't the fondest of communal facilities. "I got enough of them at Eichen," she'd said, and Stiles threw her a look like, I know, right.
The gas station bathroom was about the same as every gas station bathroom. Fluorescent flickering lights above beige and off-white tile and a row of stalls. Kira looked washed-out and exhausted, small and fragile. Lydia abruptly recalled Kira's face from hours before as she held her hand above the electrifying dial, back in the hunters' torture room. It had hurt Kira to hurt Scott.
Kira twisted her hair above her head and knelt above one sink, running the tap and splashing water over the back of her neck, then straightening and splashing more on her face. Some of her make-up was fading but none of it ran. Lydia washed her face, too, getting behind her ears, ruefully wishing for a bath or a shower. Hours in an enclosed space with five other people, and none of them came out smelling pleasant.
"Oh," Malia said, seeing them at the sinks. Then she stripped off her long-sleeved shirt, ran the tap at a third sink, and vigorously scrubbed her torso, under her arms, the back of her neck and her face. She was wearing a pretty cute purple bra. Lydia blinked at her, then shrugged. She shared a look with Kira, who also shrugged, before shucking her black leather vest and pulling off her own shirt.
Well, it wasn't like it was a bad idea.
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Derek Hale circa age 17 was not the most mentally agile guy. He was still staring around with a dumbstruck expression, despite having like, two whole hours to catch the fuck up. Stiles shook his head sharply in self-reprimand. It was fine, it was okay, to be an asshole of titantic proportions, as long as he kept it in his head. He could think whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't verbalize. But the vulnerable shaken look on Derek – Stiles never liked it. He liked it now even less.
He saw Derek standing by the Jeep, forlorn, and fought with himself before ambling over. "Hey, man," he said, and tilted a bro nod.
"You –" Derek swallowed. He was so young. It made Stiles' gut twist to think of why Kate would have made Derek regress in age. Derek licked his lips, and nodded back. "You're, uh, Stiles?"
"Yeah."
"And..." Derek frowned. "You're human."
"Also yeah." Stiles shrugged his shoulders up, down. He jerked his chin in the direction of the gas station. "Did you need to do anything in there? Want some food? I've got some cash, uh, here," and began to dig through his pockets. He'd just paid for the gas, so he knew it wasn't his imagination that he had some pesos or also his credit card, though he was trying to avoid using that because plausible deniability and his dad's ability to access his records.
"No, I'm not, I mean, I'm fine."
Derek Hale, 17, was also awkward as fuck. It made him seem even younger. Uncertain, unsure. Stiles hated it. Hated how he felt protective of it.
"Well, ok," Stiles said. "If you're sure." He got his keys out and started fiddling with them. Nervous tic. He should have got a water bottle, maybe pretzels. It wasn't too late to go back in and pick something up quickly. He glanced over his shoulder. Scott was still MIA, and the girls were all in the bathroom. When he looked back at Derek, Derek was staring at his hands. Stiles blinked and held out the keys. "Did you want to sit inside? I can run the engine if you want the radio. I know it's been pretty quiet in there, but seriously man, you don't want to know what we went through a few days ago. Kira is surprisingly vicious when you change the station during her turn."
Derek startled, then shook his head. "No, uh, I'm good." He bit his lip. "Kira, that's the uh, she was holding the sword?"
"That's right."
"Not human."
"Also right."
Derek met his eyes and flashed a quick grin, sort of playful. Like they were bantering, bonding. Stiles' stomach swooped, low, sickened. This was Derek before his family was murdered. Wow.
"She feels kind of like a storm," Derek said, dropping his voice and leaning slightly forward, confiding. "Like... thunder. And electricity."
"That's actually pretty accurate," Stiles said. He summoned a smile and held it, though his face was tired and he just wanted to shut down, turn blank. But Derek was just a kid, right now. Stiles couldn't scare him. "You ever heard of kitsune?"
Derek's eyes lit up and he breathed, "No way."
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There was a weird moment right as they were all piling back in the Jeep when Derek leaned toward Malia, inhaled deeply, and looked startled. "Are we related?" he asked, and Malia reared back.
"Uh, no," she said, brows drawn, uncomfortable. But Kira noticed Lydia's flinch. Lydia stood hunched with her arms crossed in front of her chest, frowning to herself, troubled.
Stiles soothed Malia with a stroke from her shoulder down her arm, ending with a brief hand clasp that had Malia turning to him like a flower to the sun, unabashedly smiling. Derek watched them.
"But, you smell like –"
"Okay!" Lydia clapped her hands. "I think we're all ready to hit the road, huh? We're wasting, uh, moonlight."
She was upset. Kira tilted her head. Lydia was trying to steer them away from a topic that made her uncomfortable. It made no sense because it was an innocuous topic. Unless it was true. Kira glanced at Malia, then at Derek. Derek, de-aged, was softer than she'd ever known him. And infinitely less sad. Malia was stepping closer to Stiles, reassuring herself with his touch.
"We can't go yet," Kira said. "Scott isn't back."
As if her words summoned him, Scott came running toward them from the other side of the gas station. "Sorry," he called, and held up his phone. "Sorry, I had to. Mom was getting worried."
Stiles immediately groaned. "Do they all know?"
Scott winced. He glanced sidelong at Kira. "Sorry," he said again.
"Oh, god," Kira moaned.
"Malia and Lydia are still okay, though," Scott said, in what was probably meant to be a cheery tone.
Derek looked from one face to the next. "What's going on?"
"When we came down here, we sort of told all of our parents that we were staying at each other's places," Stiles said. He was swaying his and Malia's clasped hands slightly back and forth, almost absentmindedly. "Scotty's weak, though, and had to fold. Like a pile of laundry."
"But he's the alpha," Derek said blankly. "Alphas don't – why would he worry about what his mom thinks?"
Stiles snorted at him. "Just wait til you meet his mom."
Derek still looked baffled, but didn't ask any more questions as they piled back into the Jeep. They were in the same configuration as before, and Kira blushed while climbing in and settling on top of Scott. He spread his legs a little, making small adjustments until she was comfortable. He was warm and solid beneath her, and his arms felt good, strong and safe, wrapped around her waist. It was awkward again though, like it had been awkward a few hours ago. Hopefully once they were driving she'd be able to relax.
Scott felt and smelled so good, warm like candle light. That didn't make much sense but it was how Kira labeled it in her mind. Her sense of Scott. It was kind of weird for them to be so physically close for so long, when they hadn't even really cleared up what it was they were to each other.
Kira tried to puzzle it through, sometimes. She knew they were something. Something romantic, something maybe sexy, something – physical, but with emotion. She felt giddy thinking about it, energized and nervous, so nervous. Like she was always, always going to say the wrong thing. Like she'd never know the right thing. But it wouldn't matter, because no matter what she said, Scott would still smile at her... Yeah, that's how it felt.
They were something, but they couldn't be that. Not yet. It wouldn't be right, not so soon. Allison's name still hurt all of them to hear, let alone say.
Kira could wait. She settled deeper against Scott. It had been such a long day. A long week. She sighed and felt the tension drain out. Her face rested against his jaw and neck, and she felt him smile, his arms tightening around her waist.
Around them the night was long, an empty road. Kira closed her eyes and slept.
----------
Derek didn't mean to sleep but he knew he had when low whispered arguments woke him. It was Stiles and that other girl, Lydia, the one who smelled a little bit like death. But not in a bad way. She was snapping something about how Stiles needed to sleep, and how she'd had a nap and was fine to drive his precious Jeep. He was saying something about having proper respect, and not believing she would be gentle enough in his baby's handling. Derek slitted his eyes to stare at them. Lydia was leaning a bit forward. Her hair was falling out of her braid crown and her mascara had rubbed off. She'd retouched her lip gloss at some point. Her mouth was glossy even in the low light. She smelled clean, like Malia and Kira had both smelled, like she'd bathed at the gas station somehow.
It had startled Derek when they came out of the bathroom with all the traveling funk washed off, because suddenly he could scent that elusive something familiar. Deeper than pack. Family. But he had no family here. He didn't know where his family was, if they were looking for him or waiting for him. He knew that Scott felt right in the way only your Alpha ever felt right, and he knew that Lydia had called herself and the others Derek's pack. But Derek didn't know what that could possibly mean. Had his mom given him away? Had he chosen to leave? He couldn't imagine that, but apparently it had happened. Somehow.
Stiles in the driver's seat gestured with one emphatic hand before putting it back on the wheel, lifting the other hand and mussing it through his hair. He muttered darkly, unkind words that had no real feeling behind them, and said, "Fine, fine, you're right, okay." And a few seconds later he was pulling to the side of the road.
Everyone else in the Jeep was asleep so they were quiet opening the doors and climbing out. Derek closed his eyes. He didn't want them to know he was awake. They weren't as withdrawn and guarded when they thought he was asleep. They didn't stare at him from the corners of their eyes.
Stiles slid in next to Derek. He buckled up. Derek slitted his eyes back open. Lydia adjusted the driver's seat, checked the rearview mirror, pursed her lips, and put on her seatbelt. She was small in the seat but utterly capable as she put the Jeep into drive. Stiles next to Derek exhaled long, low and shuddery. Derek looked at him.
There was something about looking at someone when they didn't know it. They were a little softer, edgeless. Their shoulders were different. How they held themselves.
Stiles seemed tired. More than just a few days' worth exhaustion. He splayed his fingers across his face.
Scott felt like Derek's Alpha, undeniably, but Stiles felt -
Derek looked at Stiles' hands.
He'd been dreaming of Stiles. They were in the locker room at the high school. It was shadowy but not scary – just dark, empty and alone. That was Derek's dream; not from tonight – from earlier. Maybe the first thing he could really remember that wasn't the last time he saw his family. Maybe the only thing really keeping him calm right now.
In his dream, he'd trusted Stiles. Stiles had shown him his hands, said something about – something, something about – pain lanced through Derek's head. No. It hurt to think about it. It hurt to remember.
Derek looked at Stiles' long fingers and counted them. Awake, he thought, inexplicably.
Anchored.
----------
There was a problem at the border, and its name was Derek's passport picture is around eight years out of date.
"I knew we were forgetting something," Stiles groaned.
"Uh, what," Derek said, and reached for his passport. His reflexes weren't that good for a werewolf because Stiles managed to snap it away. Malia preened. Stiles was good with his hands, good at keeping secrets. She felt happy for having chosen someone so skilled.
"Nope," Stiles said. "No peeking."
"But that's my –"
"Bad wolf," Stiles cut him off. He handed Derek's passport off to Scott, who gave it to Kira, who had hidden pockets.
Lydia stood off to the side. She was tense and unhappy. She was almost always tense and unhappy; when she wasn't, she was just sad. It made Malia itch to be around her, like fur ruffled the wrong way. But you had to respect grief. "So how are we going to do this?" Lydia said abruptly, cutting through the time-wasting. "Fake IDs are expensive and we don't know anyone this side of the border."
"We know Braeden," Scott said. "Maybe she can do something."
"Or, I mean, since your dad already knows, we could call him and ask him to figure it out," Kira said, looking at Stiles. "He is law enforcement. He should have some ideas."
"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding. But his heart rate ticked up and he felt keenly of distress for the edge of a moment. If Lydia's sadness was being rubbed the wrong way, Stiles' distress was infinitely worse. Like poisoned meat, a smell that raised Malia's hackles with its utter wrongness.
It rested on her shoulders like a shudder and she shook it away, tossing her hair. "Seriously, guys? Did you forget how I got across?" Because it definitely wasn't that she had a passport of her own. It was hard enough getting herself declared officially alive. She looked over at Derek, who was staring at them all with the sort of wide-eyed innocence that was kind of endearing, if you liked defenseless things.
"Oh, right," Kira said sheepishly, and Scott looked about as embarrassed. Stiles just looked proud, like Malia had said and done something good. She gave him an extra-bright smile. Lydia was sour, but self-directed, like she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it first.
Derek still looked clueless. Malia rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, dumbass," she said. "I'll show you how it's done."
Because it turned out there weren't a lot of fences that could keep you out, when you were supernaturally strong and fast and could heal from almost anything.
----------
It was late afternoon when Malia and Derek came running up to the parked Jeep, laughing and breathless. Scott et al were at a rest stop with a spread of food collected from two diners and a well-equipped gas station. It had been smooth sailing for everyone in the Jeep to get across the border, and they'd known it would be fine for Derek and Malia too, but that hadn't stopped Scott from tensing up the entire time they were gone. It made him anxious to be separated from them, cut-off and unsure if they needed him. He wanted to herd everyone he cared for into one group, the easier to guard. (It still bothered him that Isaac was so far away. Like an itch in his mind.)
Malia wore Kira's vest, though the last time Scott had seen her she was tying it around her face to obscure her features. Derek had one of Scott's bandanas shyly twined between his fingers, having used it to mask his face, though he proffered it as soon as he saw Scott glance at it.
"Keep it," Scott said, smiling. Derek was really, shockingly young. It was strange and for more reasons than the obvious. It felt easy to be around him, when before it'd been a fight. Everything Derek did rubbed Scott the wrong way, even from the beginning. Scott wasn't technically Derek's Alpha even now. They'd never come to a formal understanding, and Scott had never particularly wanted Derek in his pack though they were recognized allies.
But when Derek went missing, the concern Scott felt was undeniable. Literally. He couldn't deny it, the urge and need, to seek Derek out, ensure his safety, provide for him.
That was what it felt to be Alpha to a pack.
Malia collapsed on the ground next to Stiles, who jostled her gently and held forward a prepared plate mostly full of meat. She beamed at him and then descended on the food like a wild animal. It was kind of gross to watch, but also awe-inspiring, and Stiles didn't seem to mind.
Derek settled next to them, staring avidly from the corner of his eye. Scott grinned to himself when he saw Stiles absentmindedly putting a plate together for Derek, too.
Over by the Jeep, Kira and Lydia were getting out the bottled drinks. They were laughing a little. Not really easy together yet, and not exactly friends. But pack. Lydia'd been making noises about getting a rental for the rest of the drive, tired of the cramped conditions, but Scott bet anything she'd stick it out with them.
They weren't past the hard part of whatever this was. They still didn't know Kate's plan, or how Derek fit into it. They didn't know if Derek would revert, in knowledge if not in age, or if he'd be reset permanently. They didn't know if they'd have to be the ones to tell Derek, to explain to him, all the things that had gone wrong. His role in those things.
But they were together, and they were going home. For now that was enough.