Archive of Our Own ^beta

Deaton, Scott, Stiles, Derek, and Isaac stand at the end of a long driveway. The house before them is large and grand, built tall and elegant. It makes Stiles want to throw a rock to break a window or something.

Instead, he watches Jackson pull Lydia closer, meeting little resistance.

“Come on,” Stiles says, nudging Scott’s shoulder. “We should give them some privacy.”

Scott looks confused before he follows Stiles’ eyes to where Jackson and Lydia are standing on the driveway, Lydia looking like she is trying very hard not to cry. “Oh,” Scott says with a nod, looking at Deaton. “We’re going to go.”

Deaton smiles, nodding. “I think that’s a good idea,” he agrees, eyeing the Alpha beside him. “Do you have anything else to say to him?”

Derek shakes his head slightly. “No, he’ll be fine.”

“Then it is probably best if we all depart,” Deaton says, picking up his different bundles of left over herbs and strange powders he had brought with in order to give some to Jackson. He began packing them up in a bag.

“Oye! Whittemore!” Stiles shouts over. “We’re all—”

“I heard,” Jackson cuts him off, not bothering to look away from Lydia.

“We should talk,” Derek tells Scott as the boy makes his way over to his newly purchased motorcycle.

“Not now, Derek,” Scott says, putting on his helmet. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Derek growls softly but Scott ignores him. He only nods to the lone beta beside, Derek.

Isaac offers a polite nod back, looking quickly away.

“I’ll meet you in a few hours at yours, okay?” Scott asks Stiles as he pushes his key into the ignition of his bike.

Stiles digs his jeep keys out of his pocket nodding. “Yeah, buddy, I’ll see you then.”

And then Scott is gone with the loud rev of his engine.

“Stilinski!” Derek calls, stopping Stiles.

Stiles turns to face the Alpha, not looking surprised or expectant. “What?” he asks though, the sound coming out more as a sigh than anything else.

“Keep an eye on your friend,” Derek commands. He thinks it over a moment later, thinking perhaps there was a better way to say that. But the kid smiles at him anyway, not looking mad or offended.

“I always do,” Stiles tells him, and yeah, Derek can see that.

“He’ll need to talk to me eventually.”

Stiles shrugs, fingers tapping on the outside of his thigh. He never seems able to stand still, not even for a moment. “Scott does what he wants. I’m not his parent, I’m his best friend. If he doesn’t want to talk to you all I can do is stand by him.”

“Even if it gets him killed?”

“Yeah, because being around you sounds super safe too,” Stiles scoffs.

Derek growls low in his throat, his canines growing slightly as his eyes flash in a warning.

Stiles flinches back, away from Derek with a rabbit-fast heart. “Dammit, Derek!” he squeaks as he trips over his own feet, knocking back into Deaton who was almost finished packing up his things.

A vial falls from Deatons’ hands, crashing against the asphalt of Jackson’s driveway. It smashes, leaving shattered glass across the ground. Deaton swears softly beneath his breath, carefully picking up the bigger pieces. He wrinkles his nose as he goes, looking up at Stiles and Derek slowly as if to scold them.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles babbles, hopping away. “Blame the asshole over there.”

“Eww,” Isaac takes a step back and then another. “What is that awful smell?”

Jackson whips around to glare, not letting go of Lydia. “Gross! What the hell did you knock into now, Stilinski?”

Carefully, Stiles takes a short sniff, readying for a terrible smell. But all he smell is the faint aroma of maple and warm vanilla. Stiles snorts, wondering how sensitive the nose of werewolves must be.

“Maple,” Derek comments calmly, raising a surprised eyebrow. So it doesn’t smell bad to him either.

“And vanilla,” Stiles agrees before he looks back at Deaton.

Deaton is suddenly very stiff, his eyes going up to look between Stiles and Derek with alarm. “What did you say?” he whispers. And then demands. “Stiles, what does this smell like to you?”

Exchanging a look with Derek, almost uncomfortable with the moment of comradery against the oddity of the vet. “It smells….like maple and vanilla. Kind of like the candles they sell in stores but it’s really faint and soft smelling.”

“It smells like ass!” Isaac argues but it shushed by the vet enthusiastically.

Deaton ignores the comment. “And to you, Derek?”

Hesitantly, Derek takes a long inhale through the nose. He narrows his eyes but nods. “Vanilla and maple, yeah. Why? What is it?”

Deaton’s face goes blank but his eyes seem to panic. He stands slowly, leaving his bag on the ground. Calmly he says, “Mr. Stilinski, Derek….I think we need to talk.” He looks at Isaac and then at Jackson and Lydia. “Alone, perhaps. Just for a minute. Perhaps we could all meet at my clinic in just a few minutes.”

“Should I call Scott?” Stiles asks, digging out his cell phone from his back pocket.

“No,” Deatons says quickly. And then, “maybe it’s best if we keep it between us until you understand it and can decide for yourselves.”

“Oookay,” Stiles sweeps his hands through the air, shaking his head with an eye roll. “That was ominous at all.”

“Whatever,” Derek growls, rolling his eyes. He throws his keys for the Camaro to Isaac with a, “careful” and makes his way towards Stiles’ jeep.

“Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Stiles argues, following after him. “Why don’t you ride with Deaton?”

“Shut up,” Derek growls, pulling the passenger door shut.

Stiles sits on the table in the middle of the room, swinging his feet below. Derek’s across from him, facing Deaton as he leans against the counter.

Deaton’s words sink in and everything feels wrong.

“Mates?” Stiles repeats. His eyes widen a bit and he tips his chin up slightly, as if to move his mouth away from the breath of air he’d just exhaled with that word. As if it had burned him.

“Soul mates,” Deaton clarifies softly, his tone light and laced with something terribly morose.

So it’s something bad then. So it’s something to fear, or hate, or be saddened by. Stiles’ eyes dart to Derek who is stone-faced and expressionless. “Is it—a wolf thing?”

Derek moved slowly. His eyes blinked. He focused on Stiles. He opened his mouth, took in a deep breath and just held like that, as if words just wouldn’t come out. The Alpha looks shell shocked, slack jawed, tongue tied. 

“Yes,” Deaton answers for him, leaving Stiles to turn back to the Doc. “It’s rare. But not unheard of. A born wolf may have a soul mate… someone who would be perfect for them in every way.”

“Like…” Stiles’ struggles are not like Derek’s. Stiles isn’t groping for words just out of reach, but rather, he’s fighting to keep his words from spilling out. A million things race through his mind and threaten to spout from his mouth. “…romantically?”

Deaton shuts his eyes then, like he’s in pain. “In every way. Romantically, sexually, intellectually, personally…they’re meant to be complimentary like puzzle pieces.” He reopens his eyes and Stiles sucks in a harsh breath to see the water that has built up behind the man’s eyes. “A person can fall in love with anyone…no one can ever predict that or understand that. But a soul mate…given time it is guaranteed they would fall in love. An unbreakable, forever, perfect kind of love people write about in books and movies.”

“My parents talked about it…from time to time. Of people they’d heard that found their…mates. Distant relatives... But I never really took it seriously because it was so rare.” And then he’s looking at Stiles like he’s equal parts amazed and scared of him.

“And you’re telling me that—this applies to Derek and me? I don’t understand,” Stiles admits, searching Derek’s eyes from where he stands on the other side of the room. “We’re, the two of us, we’re—what? Destined to fall in love? Fated to be together? True love? I can’t—we don’t even like each other. On a good day, Derek barely tolerates me. He’s a freaking asshole. We—you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

But Derek doesn’t look like he’s disagreeing with Stiles or like he’s going to be able to explain it either. Derek’s head suddenly—finally—turns to Deaton, as if he’s suddenly aware again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve gotta be wrong, Doc. There’s just no way! Not me, and certainly not Derek.”

Deaton shifts uneasily. “The smell you two encountered earlier. It’s a multipurpose substance, a mixture that takes days to make. It’s called VMA….it can help werewolves regain control because of its terrible and intense smell.”

“…terrible?”

“But to some….it smells of something quite different,” Deaton explains as if Derek hadn’t spoken. “You two both smelt maple and vanilla? For you two to both smell something nice instead of undesirable is shocking…but to smell the same thing. Yes, it means you two are most certainly soul mates.” He pauses then, slumping slightly. “I have never seen it myself, not until today. But yes, I am positive.”

“He’s just a kid,” Derek shakes his head with disbelief.

And Stiles thinks that if this were a movie or a book he’d have been offended by that comment. But it isn’t. And he’s not. Because Derek is right.

Stiles is just a kid and he doesn’t know all that much about werewolves or dating or love. He doesn’t understand what exactly this means or why Deaton thinks that Derek could ever fall in love with him. He doesn’t think he could ever love Derek either. He doesn’t understand lots of things. He’s just a kid, a smart and very aware individual, but young all the same. He has to apply for colleges soon, has to figure out how to balance this world with the other one. And Deaton is talking about a fairytale from the wrong book.

“To me, so are you.” Deaton shrugs then, like he’s crumpling and it just confuses Stiles more. “I didn’t say you were going to suddenly hit some weird feeling of love and attraction and perfection. I’m saying that if you two kept being around one another, grew up, got to know one another, dated—” he cuts off then , his hands tightening their hold on the table until his knuckles pale.

And Stiles looks at Derek and feels something kind of lighten up. Because yeah, holy shit. Who wouldn’t want to find out there was a person out there that was perfect for you? Who didn’t want to know they had a guarantee at happily ever after? Who didn’t want to know that person was smoking hot and super strong? Who didn’t want to have someone like that?

A small hope flared in Stiles’ chest even as it seemed so unreal. Maybe… If Derek could let Stiles in. If they talked. If they got to know one another and got comfortable. If they made plans for a future and if Derek and his father could talk about basketball and Derek was as loyal and selfless as what Stiles has seen…maybe in this one way the universe didn’t fuck up. If Deaton is so sure. If all of this is already set in stone.

Derek has this look in his eyes too, like he almost wants this. Not even Stiles in particular—just this promise of love and forever and—

 “—You most certainly could have fallen in love,” Deaton finishes in a hushed voice.

The room goes unnaturally silent and even Stiles has gone uncomfortably still. He doesn’t even feel like he ought to breathe because this moment is so fragile.  And now, now he’s speechless.

So of course, Derek’s still on a roll with words. “Could have?”

Deaton’s eyes hit the floor, “I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know at the time or I—I just hadn’t realized. Didn’t know what the two of you were….” He looks up in time for the two of them to watch a single tear as it begins to fall down Deaton’s face. It’s the most expressive thing Stiles has ever seen him do and it makes him panic.  “I didn’t know,” Deaton whispers then, rough and sad. “When I gave Stiles the mountain ash to put around the club I set off his Spark. Everyone has one, but some are just better at it than others. Like me, like my sister. Stiles is just like that, gifted in that way.”

Stiles’ chest feels like its icing over but he doesn’t dare look away from the bet to look at Derek, unwilling to know what’s going through his mind since Stiles doesn’t know what’s going through his own.

“Okay, so you set off my Spark,” Stiles shook his head to clear it. “What does that mean exactly, and why do you look like it means the end of the world? It doesn’t mean the end of the world, right?”

“Setting off a Spark isn’t usually much of anything,” Deaton admitted. “But once a person believes like you did, to do the impossible, they become something more.” He pauses then, to take in a deep breath. He looks so old suddenly. “It picks at bonds, solidifying those already forged and erasing those that haven’t. The idea is to get rid of distractions.”

“But it erased the soul mate bond, thingy?” Stiles asks, straightening slightly. He considers it for a moment and then shrugs. “Okay, fine. No love, lost. No big deal. Life goes back to what it was ten seconds ago.”

Okay. No need to panic then. No need to go through a panic attack. No need to feel insecure and outraged and uncertain. No need for any of that. Basically, false alarm. He and Derek ought to be relieved.

Stiles looks to Derek and then pauses, scared. The wolf has gone deathly white, but his eyes run a blood red. He looks furious and terrified all at once.

“What?” Stiles asks, looking between the two men.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Deaton admits. “You are still compatible in every way. You’ve still been made for one another. You’re still very capable of falling in love.”

“But for us to fall in love now, without the bond, would mean that the bond would try to recreate itself,” Derek says then, like he gets it now, like he’s in physical pain. “And if it did….if it did recreate itself it would kill you. It’s your half of the bond that’s dissolved, when it recreated itself it would rip you open.”

Stiles heaves in a big, shaky breath. “Oh.”

Derek just nods.

“Right, okay, so we just don’t fall in love.”

Simple. Not even difficult. Tragically easy.

Derek sighs heavy, like he’s suddenly very tired. “Okay,” he says and then in a whisper, “Okay.” He lets his eyes go just over Stiles’ shoulder, like there is something there worth studying, like he can’t bare to look at Stiles. “Well,” he agrees with a shrug, “we haven’t had trouble with that so far. We can’t really avoid each other much, can we? So we have to hate each other, be impatient with each other, not care about one another. We have to fall in love with other people, or form connections with them as fast as possible. We can’t—we can’t fall in love.”

“No big deal,” Stiles snorts, like it isn’t. As if he doesn’t feel like he’s just been punched in the gut. As if the world didn’t just stop turning for a moment and then begin to spin in the opposite direction. He laughs nervously even though he knows his face probably looks as seriously defeated as Derek’s.

“I’m sorry,” Deaton repeats.

“You didn’t know,” Derek replies instantly, collecting himself to shrug. “Besides, you helped me dodge a bullet there. Wouldn’t want to be tied to this nut job all my life.”

Stiles doesn’t even pretend to be offended. Because Derek’s right.

Deaton looks between the two of them, back and forth in a slow manner. “Try not to fall in love boys. Derek isn’t entirely right. Falling in love wouldn’t be enough, you’d both have to acknowledge it for the bond to reform but…you could never be together. I can’t imagine a worse pain” he trails off, looking so defeated. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” he whispers and turns to leave.

The room seems smaller then, just the two of them. They turn at almost the exact same moment to look at one another.

“I never even thought about it before,” Stiles admits then to the room.

Derek meets his eyes with the same look of uncertainty. He nods slowly. “Neither did I. I don’t—I hardly even know you.”

Stiles sucks in a slow breath, like it’s eating away at his lungs, “so we keep it that way. I mean, I don’t think you’re going to fall in love with me, Derek. We’re so different…we’re, Jesus, it doesn’t even matter. Nothing we can do about it.”

“Would you have?” Derek asks and then cuts off, his cheeks going the slightest bit red.

Stiles lifts an eyebrow inquiringly. “Would I have what?”

“Gone out with me, tried to get to know, tried to make this work,” Derek explains with a blank face but practically soul searching eyes. “If the bond hadn’t broken, would you have wanted to try to be with me? If Deaton had just told us what we were and there was no reason not to. I know I’m not—would you have tried?”

Stiles looks away then, because he doesn’t think either of them want to see the look in the other’s eyes when he says, “for true love? Hell yeah, I’d have tried.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles can see Derek’s sad nod before he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to look at Derek, not his pain or sadness. It’s so stupid, to miss something he’d never had. A moment passes before he opens his eyes to find himself in an empty room, all alone again.

Scott comes over for video games more often. They eat a lot of pizza. Scott never says her name. Just refers to the girl he loves as her. Stiles just gives him sympathetic smiles.

Stiles wishes he knew what it was like to love someone who loved him back. He thinks of Lydia and just ends up laughing to himself.

Heather’s pulling on Stiles with hot hands and looking at him with beautiful eyes. Stiles figures that he’s supposed to form connections, forget about Derek, and he can’t think of a better way.

He doesn’t want to stay a virgin either. He’s curious and excited and aroused and…and he wants this. He wants to be a normal teenager who doesn’t have a werewolf best friend or hunters to worry about or monsters to defeat or a soul mate. He wants Heather. Because she looks at him with fire instead of ice.

So he looks though the cabinet, finding a condom. AHA!

Shit.

And then Stiles can’t help the way his mind wanders. He’s sixteen and a virgin and sex is already on his mind and Derek’s been hounding his thoughts for a few weeks now. He wonders what size Derek would need. He looks like a guy who could seriously be packing. And what would that feel like? Would he be slow, allowing for Stiles’ inexperience with patience? Or would he be fast, taking charge with a firm hand to make up for Stiles’ nervousness?

Maybe Derek would kiss like a wild man. Or maybe he’s the secretly romantic. Maybe growing up with a big family and losing them all made him touch-starved. Or maybe he’s too manly for silly things like cuddling.

Would he like to fuck Stiles? Would he like Stiles to fuck him? Would he fuck Stiles hard against the wall he’s so fond of pushing the boy against? Would he stretch him out across the bed?  

And shit—fuck. This isn’t what Stiles is supposed to be thinking about. He’s about to be with a beautiful girl he’s known all his life. A lovely girl who laughs at his jokes and knew his mom.

Stiles never would be thinking like this if Deaton hadn’t said anything. Sure, Derek was a good looking guy. But Stiles wasn’t even fully comfortable with that half of his sexuality yet. Now the door wasn’t just opened, it was pulled right off the hinges.

Mind you, Derek’s an asshole. He’s an inconsiderate, terrifying jerk with more baggage than Stiles could ever be capable with dealing with. And maybe with Deaton and the spark Stiles actually dodged a bullet.

But he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Heather. Sweet, beautiful Heather is waiting down the steps. So he goes, passing Scott on his way and offering a smile.

Scott, like the best friend he is, grins back in a knowing kind of way.

And Stiles duck down the steps, smirking to himself and forgetting all about the scruffy alpha.

Jennifer has a beautiful smile and warm eyes. He’s always had a thing for brown eyes

So he kisses her. He leans closer and slides his eyes shut. It’s nervous kissing at first, both of them a bit rusty, but then they slot together and he feels a warmth seep into him. And it’s like a big blanket on a rainy day.

Jennifer is one of the kindest souls Derek has ever met. And he thinks he could fall in love with someone like her—with her. She doesn’t always how to fill Derek’s endless silences. But she kisses him like he’s something beautiful. Something good.

Derek wants to be good for someone. Just this once.

So he kisses her deeper, and lets her push him onto the bed.

Derek stared at his hands where the blood was quickly drying where it had dropped down his arm. Boyd’s blood. He shivered.

Tears began to fall down his face. He could feel the loss in his chest, thrumming in his bloodstream, building up his bones. The look on the boy’s face when he took his last breathe was burned behind Derek’s eyelids.

He had failed him. He’d failed Boyd like he’d failed Erica, like he’d failed Laura, like he’d failed his whole family. Derek had let them die, all of them.

And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, burning through his clothing and gripping his humanity, pulling him back to the ground. Keeping the shift—the animalistic urge that threatened to rip through, at bay.

He thinks he should shrug the hand off. It isn’t much, just a small token of comfort. But he shouldn’t let Stiles show his silent support and sympathy. He shouldn’t.

But he does.

Because he needs it. Because somehow, this small sign of comfort feels like everything right now. Because in this one moment, he feels only relief that someone cares. Even if it’s the one person in the whole world that Derek can’t have care about him.

Stiles fights the urge to grab him. He has to fight every ounce of his being to not drop to his own knees beside Derek on the wet floor. He wants only to wrap his arms around the man and pull his head to Stiles’ chest. He wants to keep the rest of the world around the man who never looked more like a child to Stiles.

Instead, he puts one hand on his shoulder, just to touch him. Just to let him know he’s there.

And it’s in the moment that Stiles realizes that, yeah, he could have fallen so in love with Derek he never would have wanted another. It just makes the loss of Boyd feel that much more prominent.

He should go find Jennifer.

“She’s the one,” Scott says, “that’s been sacrificing people. Your girlfriend.”

Derek flinches but crosses his arms over his chest to stare hard at Scott. “No chance. She’s—she’s—“

“Derek,” Stiles cuts through and Derek looks at him and glares him. “Derek, she isn’t what she appears.”

Derek is surprised at the way his brain instantly begins to spin at what to do. Not trusting Scott’s judgment but taking Stiles’ words as law. “I was trying,” Derek offers, deflating a bit. “She seemed—I—“

“I know,” Stiles takes up Derek’s silence when he trails off. “I’m sorry, Derek. It’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

Scott begins to explain what happened, but Derek can’t make himself take his eyes off of Stiles. And he felt the ghost heat and pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Derek allows when Scott finishes. And then he jerks his head to the side, frowning. “She’s here.”

Scott nods. He can hear her too.

The two boys go to hide. And Derek clings to the hope.

Not this one. This woman with the lovely smile and the endless love. Who talks about the sky like a poet. Not this one. Please, just let this one be a good guy. Let him love her, forget everything, live his life without hurting anyone ever again. Please don’t let her sins weigh on him too. Because he doesn’t think he could survive it.

“Come on!” Slap. “Wake up!” Slap.  “Derek!” Slap. Derek!” Slap. Stiles is heaving, his chest is tightening and he can’t get the werewolf to wake. “Derek, come on,” he begs through bared teeth, raising his hand once more. He hesitates, then makes a fist.

He doesn’t care if he gives Derek a black eye or breaks his own knuckles. Derek needs to wake up. Now. Scott—Jesus, Scott is gone. His Dad is gone. There is a psycho alpha with his best friend and a psycho whatever-the-hell with his dad.

And Derek won’t wake the fuck up!

“Wahh!” Derek grabs hold of Stiles’ wrist just in time to prevent the blow. They lock eyes, both breathing hard and the relief in the air is palpable.

In his head, Stiles is swearing at Derek in every way he knows how. Cursing his existence and for scaring him. For making Stiles think maybe he’d lost Derek too—like Scott, like his dad, like his mother.

Instead, Stiles explains things as fast as he can aloud. He moves to help Derek up with trembling hands as he tries not to think about his father. About how his dad could be dying right now. About how he could already be dead.

But Derek’s eyes go round and his face dips with equal worry as he asks about one person. Cora.

Shit.

“Here,” Stiles digs through his pocket and pulls out his keys. “Take the jeep. Take Cora. Do whatever you have to save her.”

“But your dad—”

“She’s the last of your family, Derek,” Stiles says, pushing the keys into his hands. “I understand. It’s okay. I’ll figure it out, I’ll get my dad back.”

“Stiles…” Derek looks up from the palm of his hand where the keys lay, cold and shiny.

Stiles shuts his eyes then, his hands still gripped in the leather of Derek’s jacket. “It’s going to be okay, Derek. We’ll find a way to save them both. You do whatever you can to save her, you hear me? You don’t deserve to lose any more family.”

Derek’s breath gets caught in his throat and for the first time he accepts it. Yeah, Stiles is his soul mate. No question. He would have been perfect for Derek in every way. “Thank you,” Derek whispers instead, pushing back and keeping his eyes trained on Stiles.

“Good bye,” Stiles says instead. “It’ll all be okay, Derek.” He wears a broken grin on his face like he thinks he can mask his anxiety, fear, and anger from Derek. From the man who can hear the skip in his heart.

“You’re not staying in Beacon Hills,” Stiles finally says, after watching Derek load up his car for a while in silence.

“I can’t,” Derek says. “Not after everything. I think—I should go. I should stay away from Beacon Hills for a while.”

"Okay,” Stiles replies, leaning against his jeep. “But, you’ll call from time to time, won’t you? Just so I—so we know you’re okay.”

Derek sighs, running his hand over his own car, not quite looking at Stiles. “I can’t,” he admits. “But you all have my number incase…if you need me.”

“We will,” Stiles swears.

But Derek just smiles. “Scott’s an Alpha now, and I’m not. You guys won’t need me. You can take care of yourselves, you always have been able to. But I feel better knowing just in case.”

Stiles nods in understanding, dragging his foot against the floor of the woods. “So this is goodbye?”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees. “Cora has people relying on her. People who love her.”

“So that’s where you’re going?”

“I guess.”

“What about you?”

Derek furrows his brows. “What about me?”

Stiles looks up slowly from the ground, stilling his foot. His eyes look bottomless, beautifully brown like honey with swirls of the woods that Derek has always loved. “What about people who rely and love you?”

"There’s nothing for me here,” Derek scoffs.

“Isaac—”

"Is doing just fine with Scott,” Derek cuts him off. “Better, actually.”

A pause.

“I could love you. After some time.”

Derek clenches his fists, fighting a sob of sorts. “I know,” he admits. And then he looks away. “Me too. That’s why I have to go.”

Stiles’ eyes water slightly but his face remains dry. “Yeah,” he whispers so softly that Derek barely catches it. He straightens slightly, a crooked smile on his face. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It used to be easy to believe I hated you.” And then he’s turning to his jeep, opening the door and looking over at Derek sadly. “Well, good bye then, Derek Hale. I hope you find happiness. I really do.”

“Stiles,” Derek calls, stepping forward.

Stiles turns back to find Derek inches from him, face soft and sad looking. “What?”

“If this is—I mean I know it isn’t fair but if this is good bye,” Derek takes another step closer so that they’re breathing the same air.

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat as he hesitates. His gaze doesn’t leave Derek’s as he licks his lips slightly and nods. Gives permission.

And then Derek is cupping his face, leaning even closer until their lips graze each other.

“I don’t love you,” Stiles whispers.

“I don’t love you either,” Derek says, and then they’re pressing close.

In this moment, neither is thinking about anything. They’re both too busy searching for more. Deepening it. Derek softly sucking Stile’s tongue. Stiles lightly biting Derek’s lower lip. Derek burying his hands into Stiles’ hair. Stiles wrapping his arms around to grip Derek’s back.

Both need desperately to breathe, but they both cling only harder.

To never let this moment end. To stay like this. Forever.

But this, what they feel, it’s getting too close to love. To perfect, beautiful love. And that would recreate a bond that would kill Stiles. Which would kill Derek.

So Derek finally pulls back to find tears on his face. They roll down his cheeks, burning as they drip down his chin. And when he opens his eyes he looks up to see tears on Stiles’ face as well.

Stiles swallows hard, trying to make the tears stop. He tries to ignore the warm pressure of Derek’s forehead resting on his own. And when he finally feels like his legs might be able to hold him up without assistance he leans back with shut eyes and whispers, “go.”

When he opens his eyes once more it is to the sound off the Camaro door opening and shutting. He refuses to turn and look as the car goes, leaving Stiles standing there feeling something he hasn’t felt since he watched his mother die: empty and alone.

 Some days, when the Sheriff is working late, Stiles cooks food just for himself. He goes by her recipes with precision and concentration. Usually, they taste quite good when he’s done.

But they never taste right.

She’s a friend of Cora’s. Sort of. She’s an older woman, the aunt of the Alpha. She’s a blind human with a kind voice. Derek rather likes her.

“I wish to tell you something, Derek Hale,” she speaks to him one day as they are alone.

“What is it?” he asks with a patient tone.

“You must promise not to speak to anyone about what I tell you nor who you heard it from,” she says in a stern voice then.

Derek blinks at her a few times before he nods. Remembering belatedly that she can’t see him, he says, “I promise, Carrie.”

“You have a mate,” she says then. Not a question.

Derek pauses, his stomach twisting. “Yes,” he admits out loud for the first time, “but I can’t be with him.” And now he’s said it. Now he’s told someone. And he thought a great weight would be lifted just to say the words. But he feels only lead in his belly.

“He’s in trouble,” she tells him then, facing away from him as if perhaps she can see something. “So much death. So much pain.”

And then Derek can’t breathe. “Whose death? Stiles’? What’s wrong?” He realizes he’s demanding now. But he’s shaking slightly and his fangs are suddenly biting into his lip.

She ignores him, moving her fingers slightly through the air as if to touch something just out of reach. “A darkness, so cold. So alone. Such a broken, tragic soul. He won’t survive it, Derek. He can’t do it. So much death.” She stops to turn back to him, gripping his hand in hers. “You must save him Derek. Even if you can never have him, you must save him.”

Derek buys a one-way ticket the next morning.

He hugs Cora good bye, but she is more understanding now than ever. “Go,” she tells him, because she thinks he’s going back for something more.

Derek doesn’t tell her he figures he’s going back to die.

Sometimes Stiles dreams about Derek. He dreams of kissing him. Of holding his hand and just sleeping with him beside him. Sometimes he dreams about Derek holding him softly and pressing him down in clean sheets. Sometimes he dreams about what life were to be if he could fall in love with Derek Hale.

Sometimes he dreams of what if.

Those dreams usually end with monsters and death and blood and screams.

All his dreams end with screaming.

The demon looks at Derek with Stiles’ eyes. They’re laughing at him.

Malia kisses him in a way that’s different than Derek. Different than Lydia. Different than Heather. Her kisses are wild, not passionate. Biting, not careful. Excited, not nervous.

Her hair isn’t dark like Derek’s. But her nose is, the way it wrinkles when she frowns. But she smiles without anything holding her back. She laughs with her whole body. And Stiles thinks he could let go of Derek for her.

He thinks he could love Malia enough to let Derek go.

Stiles stares at the bills and feels like the world is going to collapse on him again.

Stiles lives. Stiles is alive. Stiles survived. He keeps repeating it in his head as they chain him down and send electricity under his skin. But I don’t love him. Not because he couldn’t. But because he can’t. Because it would be too easy. And it would hurt too much.

And then he forgets about the hurting.

He sits in a locker room he knows too well. Stiles is there.

He leans close, eyes him carefully. But yes, this is Stiles. There is no demon there now. Just Stiles. Just perfect, beautiful, human Stiles.

The feeling of Stiles hands on his is comforting. And Derek doesn’t remember why he’s so wound up. He doesn’t remember why he’s so afraid.

And then they’re counting fingers.

When reality steps back in, there is a face he knows too well. “Kate,” he breathes as he blacks out.

Stiles knows Lydia was right. This is a stupid plan. But he’ll do it anyway. Because it’s Derek. And Derek would do this for him if no reason other than because it is what he feels he must.

Stiles stares the woman in the face. She reeks of cigarettes and there’s a look in her eyes that screams danger. But it’s for Derek. So Stiles leans forward, stepping into a character, and says, “What makes you think we came alone?”

Stiles can feel his heart race when Malia leans close to him. He likes that she needs him, like he serves a purpose with her. He likes it when she puts her arms around him, like she can keep the rest of the world away.

Derek is hot, and kind, and all kinds of lovely. But he’s in love with Malia. She’s what he wants. She’s what he needs. She’s enough.

He keeps telling himself that.

 Derek doesn’t know how to handle being human. So he lets Braeden show him. It’s easier than he thought it would be, falling in love again. Because some part of him trusts her—a part that never trusted Kate or Jennifer. He trusts the steady hand that shows him how to fire a gun. He trusts the smile that only cracks across her face when she is really pleased. He trusts the honesty in her eyes when she’s afraid or worried.

“You cheated,” she accuses, but she isn’t mad. She’s amused, maybe even impressed.

But he corrects her. “I learned to bend,” he says.

And yeah, he feels like he’s falling in love with her. So he relaxes and lets Braeden fall in love with him as he does her. He can see how in love Stiles is becoming. He can see the young love, the real trust between his soul mate and his cousin. And he doesn’t even resent her for it. He watches Malia get closer to Stiles. He’s certain Malia feels safe with Stiles, loves Stiles. And who wouldn’t fall in love with Stiles? And she’s family. She’s Peter’s kid. She’s a Hale.

He has Braeden. And he’s falling in love just as fast.

So of course, Kate is going to ruin everything. They have to save Scott. Derek’s human now, he can feel it, and so he doesn’t feel a pack pull of his alpha. But Scott would come for him—hell, Scott did come for him.

Derek waits for Stiles agreement, and they’re going back to Mexico.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Derek assures them. “Just get to Scott.” But his words come out rushed through his pain and fast breathing. He swallows heavy. He’s never felt this before. His flesh is torn and he can feel the blood dripping. But his skin doesn’t try to heal. His eyes don’t flash at the pain. He feels only humanity, and with it, unbearable pain.

He can feel warm hands on him, comforting hands on him. It calms him, the reassurance of her being so close.

But they’re not going. Peter and Stiles stand only feet away from him, staring. “Just find him,” he tells them, trying to make eye contact with Peter but he can’t. God the pain is overwhelming. “We’ll be right behind you. Just go.”

Peter sucks in a breath and Derek wonders if his uncle is actually sad to know this is it. Because he knows, he has to know. He can smell it in the air. Death.

“Go!” he shouts instead of letting out a scream of pain as it rips through his body with a jostle.

Peter goes, Derek can see him, passing through at a jog.

The other’s shuffle, unsure because the one person they’re looking up to now hasn’t turned away yet. The one person Liam and Malia both trust is Stiles. And his soul mate is staring at him with a pale face.

“Hey, hey, save him,” Derek says and he does make eye contact. And he apologizes there. For everything. In this one, last look at the boy who is his equal and yet his better in every way, he’s telling Stiles it’s okay.

It’s okay to leave to save his friend. It’s alright to go, leave the man who is dying to save the Alpha with a heart of gold. To save his brother.

He sees Stiles shuffle away to go, and finally, Derek dips back his head to accept the pain and try to focus on Braeden’s words.

Derek misses the way Stiles stops. The way he turns then, horror and understanding crossing his mind. This is it, the last look he’ll get of a living, breathing Derek.

And Derek is just letting him go.

Stiles can’t think about that right now. Scott needs him.

But he can’t help but wish, just for a moment, that it was Stiles that Derek needed, and not Braeden, even as he died.

 Stiles and Malia try valiantly to make it work, to go back to happy. But they can’t. Malia is a different person now. She wants to find her mother. She knows what her father is capable of.

She doesn’t belong in Beacon Hills.

And Stiles…Stiles looked Derek in the eye knowing he was going to die, knowing his soul mate couldn’t heal, and left him on the dessert floor.

He knows now how the hollow in his chest felt knowing he’d never hear Derek speak again. And how he felt to see him alive again. Stiles knows now that he has tasted what it is to love Derek Hale and he will never be able to fully love another person like that. Not after loving his soul mate.

“Stay until after Christmas?” Stiles asks. “Just so you have a good one again, before you go.”

She purses her lips but they pull into a smile after a moment. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay until Christmas. But I leave just after. I’ll do what I have to. I gotta find her.”

“I know,” Stiles laughs, hugging her. He misses being in love with her. He thinks she does too.

“Don’t go,” Derek begs. Because he doesn’t know what will happen when she leaves. He’ll miss her, because he loves her. He does.

“Come with me,” she counters.

He just doesn’t love her enough.

Derek looks away. “I can’t.”

She sighs. “I know.”

A pause.

“I don’t stay in any place for too long. I didn’t sign up for Beacon Hill,” she tells him sternly. And then softly, “It was nice though. Being with you. I don’t remember being in a relationship this nice that didn’t end tragically.”

Derek snorts besides himself. “Me either.”

She huffs at him, putting the last of her guns back in it’ case. “She’s a kid and she can’t go alone. Besides, no one will have better luck finding her than me. I wish you’d come with.”

Derek shrugs sadly. “I can’t leave them here. They need me.”

“Can’t leave Stiles, you mean,” she corrects with a sly look that doesn’t look at all hurt.

Derek doesn’t try to insult her by denying it. He just huffs. “You’ll take care of yourself.”

“Always do,” she replies with a beam, hefting her bag onto her back to put the last of it in her vehicle. “Mind you, I’ve never had to keep the back of a teenager before.”

“She’s my cousin,” Derek reminds her. “Try to keep her in one piece.”

Braeden gives him the sort of look one wears when they taste something they don’t like. “That poor girl was in pieces long before I met her. But I’ll do what I can for Malia. She’s a good kid.” She stops then, one moment from climbing behind the wheel to go. She gives him a look, warm and kind. “You keep him in one piece too.”

“You doing okay?” Scott asks, sitting at the edge of Stiles’ bed.

“Hmmm? Oh, you mean cuz Malia left yesterday?” Stiles looked up from his text book, thinking it over. “Yeah. I guess I’m doing alright.”

“She just wasn’t the one,” Scott shrugs at him with a sheepish smile. “There’s someone out there for you, you’ll find them.”

And Stiles supposes it’s a mix of a lot of things. The darkness still wrapped around his heart. The memories of all the people he killed while possessed. Malia leaving. Derek nearly dying. The bills they’re trying to pay. A few tears begin to slip down his face when he says, “I already met ‘the one’ Scotty. I just can’t have him.”

“What?” Scott shakes his head, not really understanding.

So Stiles explains, calmly, not allowing his friend to interrupt. “I’ll be alright, Scott. Not everyone gets to ride off into the sunset with their one-true-love.”

“Stiles,” Scott says, looking as broken as Stiles feels.

Sometimes Derek climbs into the Camaro. He flips down the windows and turns on music he’s known since he was younger and he just drives. He finds himself singing along to songs under his breath before he sings a bit louder, picking up speed on the back roads and enjoying the twists and turns. He breaths in all the smells, everything that doesn’t smell like smoke.

In those moments, everything is peaceful. Because he doesn’t think of all the things he lost; the things he’d had for his whole life and the thing he never really got in the first place.

 Derek runs into Stiles at the grocery store just down the cereal aisle. He hasn’t seen the kid since Christmas when they all got together, and it’s February now. Stiles’ cart is the most random assortment of things he’s ever seen but he supposes he should have known better when it came to Stiles.

"Hey,” Derek says, and he’s all nervous energy.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice. He gives a smile, like he’s delighted to see Derek. It’s a small smile, but it’s warm. “Derek! How are ya?”

Derek takes in the slow drag of a breath. Like he’s stepping into a character, like he’s going to play the normal human. “Fine, how are you?”

Stiles grin goes lopsided but his eyes go ever brighter. “I’m doing good, thanks.”

And, yeah. Stiles looks good. He’s wearing one of his ridiculous graphic tees, but it looks good on him. And the dark circles under his eyes aren’t there anymore. His hair is a good length, flattering. He’s growing into himself. It’s maddeningly distracting.

Stiles’ eyes shift down a moment to look at the basket in Derek’s hands. He raises an eyebrow in a judgmental sort of way. “Are those…lucky charms?”

Derek grips the basket tighter, rolling his eyes because he knows he is blushing. He’d just put the box in the basket. He shifts awkwardly, glancing to his side. “What, would it be better if I had cookie crisps?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Stiles follows Derek’s eyes before he lands on the cereal in question. It’s lined up against the wall with “Chip the Wolf” as the mascot smiling back at them. Stiles’ eyes go wide for a moment before he’s bent over in giggles. The laughter runs through his whole body, lighting up his face in a way Derek hasn’t seen since before the Nogitsune. “Oh my God! That is perfect! I never thought of it.” He reaches a hand and grabs a box, tossing it into his cart. “I will never eat another cereal again,” Stiles vows, a brilliant smile still etched across his face.

Derek can’t help but smile back. He snorts softly, shaking his head. He hates this. How easy, how comfortable this is.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles whines when he looks at his phone. “I gotta go. Working on a timetable.” His eyes go impossibly sad then. “I’ll see you around!” He turns to leave but pauses only a moment to give Derek a last smile, sad but perfectly genuine. “It really was nice to see you, Derek.”

Derek goes directly from the store to Deaton’s clinic.

“There has to be something you can do,” Derek says.

Deaton looks confused because they haven’t talked about it since the first time, but he catches quickly. “Oh,” he slumps, not looking away from Derek. “There is nothing I can do. I—l told you, Derek. I warned you not to fall in love.”

“Not good enough,” Derek bares his teeth. “I tried. But he’s—he’s Stiles.” His nostrils flare as he holds back the hurt and pain. “And it’s all your fault. Fix it.”

Deaton’s face pales, but Derek doesn’t think it’s because he’s afraid. “I told you I was sorry.”

“I hadn’t realized,” Derek says through bared teeth, “how awful it was going to be. I didn’t realize how perfect the two of us could be. Or the kind of person Stiles is. Or what I would be willing to do or give just to make sure he keeps breathing. Or that he’d do the same damn thing.” It starts with a growl but falls into a choking sob somewhere along the end.

“I’ve loved people before,” Derek says miserably, “but no one like Stiles. It’s like…it’s like I’m only here for him, like I only need him. Like he is everything.” He meets Deaton’s eyes to glare at him. “And you took it all away from me. Everything we could have been.”

“I didn’t know!” Deaton hollers, hysteric. “I never would have wanted to take something like that from anyone! I’m sorry! I’m…I’m so sorry, Derek.”     

Derek’s breathing hard and for the first time since he was a teenager, he’s losing it. His claws and fangs are stretching out, a growl deep in his throat as his eyes flash brilliantly. “There has to be something. If we were really meant to be—we’ll find a way!”

“Derek, you need to calm down.”

Derek bares his teeth, ready to throw himself at Deaton, when he thinks momentarily of Stiles. And then the fight drains out of him. Defeated, he lets himself sort of crumple on the ground, shaking slightly. He’s not angry anymore. Anger used to be his humanity, but now it’s all Stiles. A part of Derek thinks life would be easier if he’d never met his soul mate. But a selfish part of him knows that even if he can’t be with Stiles, knowing him is worth it. Knowing someone out there is as perfect as Stiles makes the pain worse and also worth it.

“I said it was okay,” Derek whispers to the floor, “that day when you told us. I forgave you, but I didn’t really realize what you did. I know you didn’t know. I know it was very near impossible for you to know. But I hate you anyway. I hate you for not checking. I hate you for taking him away from me and taking me from him. I hate you more than I hate Kate Argent or Gerard. Or my uncle. And it isn’t fair to you, but it isn’t fair to me either.”

“I’m sorry,” Deaton says, standing over him.

“Stop saying that,” Derek murmurs to the ground, wishing it might just suck him up.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure there is absolutely nothing?” Derek asks, knowing the answer already. “There is nothing in the whole world in the whole realm of possibilities that there is anything we could possibly do that could end with Stiles and I being able to be together.”

He looks up at the vet calmly, ready to accept it. To listen to the confirmation so he could try try  to move on with his life. Even if he couldn’t. Even if he knows he can’t.

Deaton hesitates a moment, opening his mouth slightly and then clamping his mouth shut tight.

Derek doesn’t breath. “What?”                

“I haven’t—I didn’t just give up on you two,” Deaton admits. “But I don’t want to give you false hope.”

But Derek’s already off the floor, pushing Deaton against the wall. “Tell me. Tell me now.”

With a heart beating like a rabbit, Deaton meets his eyes, no longer hesitant. “There’s a couple, they’re soul mates too, up in South Dakota. One of them is Werewolf and the other is an emissary. They refuse to speak with anyone who isn’t in their pack but…they could know something I don’t since they…because they’re older and more experienced.”

Derek releases the vet, mind reeling already. “Names and address,” he commands quickly.

Stiles starts looking into applying for colleges. He asks everyone’s opinions. His dad. Scott. Lydia. All the people at the station. All the teachers at school.              

He doesn’t really know why, but he’d like to ask Derek’s opinion.

“Who are you?” the Alpha asks. He’s a man, short but older, wrinkles on his face.

“Derek Hale.”

“And what do you want?”

Derek licks his lips, looking around, wondering which of these wolves was her. “I’m—uh, looking for one of your wolves. I was hoping I could speak to her. Kathy? Kathy Jones.”

There’s a pause all over. None of them move, none of them even answer him. It’s like they’re waiting. Derek doesn’t know if he’s supposed to do something.

He opens his mouth to elaborate but someone else’s voice cuts through.

“She’s at work at the moment,” says a voice from the doorway of the house.

Derek snaps his attention to the figure at the door of the house. It’s a human woman, old but not as old as the Alpha. She’s regarding him with suspicious eyes.

“What do you want with my wife?”

Derek visibly relaxes, offering her hopeful eyes. “I came to speak to you and your wife about soul mates.” He turns to the Alpha then, remembering himself. “If that’s alright. It shouldn’t take long.”

The man pauses to look over his shoulder at the woman, Marcy if Derek remembers Deaton correctly. Which he knows he does. She meets her Alpha’s eyes before nodding slowly.  He shrugs then, motioning to the other three wolves around him. “We’ll give Kathy a call to let her know.”

They pass Marcy on their way into the house again but she motions to the chairs on the porch.

Grateful, Derek makes his way to an empty chair. He sits slowly, careful to pay attention to the world around him.

“Alright…Hale is it?”

“Please,” he says, shifting in the chair. “Derek.”

“Derek then,” she nods. “I have to tell you, generally Kathy and I do what we can to avoid the rest of the world. Especially other wolves. But you look a bit desperate, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“No, I am,” Derek agrees. “I’m out of options and I was—I hoped you two might be able to help me.”

“You mentioned Soul Mates,” she said, slouching into her own seat. “Are you trying to find yours? Have you been tested to see if you have one?”

"No, I—I know who my soul mate is,” Derek admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her eyebrows furrow, uncertain. “And your soul mate…what, are they involved with another?”

Derek huffs a slow breath, and lets his eyes drop. He shakes his head pathetically and begins to tell her about Stiles. He tells her about the fire, about Peter and Scott, and then the Kanima. He gets to the part with the mountain ash and can see her tense across from but he refuses to acknowledge the reaction. He keeps plowing through, explaining what Deaton had told him and everything awful that had happened.

But still doesn’t look to see her face. Refuses to see her reaction. He thinks he smells salt water in the air though, and it makes his stomach sink down.

“I…I was an emissary long before I met Kathy,” Marcy finally says, slow and uncertain. “I too awoke my spark. So when I smelled VMA for the first time and I found it smelt like lilac and honey to me…I panicked. I’d been in this pack for a long, long time and now I was afraid of all of them. So I took all of the wolves in the pack and tested them with VMA to make sure none of them were my soul mates. And then I made the Alpha promise me he wouldn’t accept others into the pack. He agreed. I figured if I never met my soul mate I could never fall in love and it would never hurt.”

Derek nodded, staring up at her now, seeing her sad smile.

“But there were humans in my pack that were born into it. One of them, was my Alpha’s daughter and we hated each other growing up. But we…we grew up. We began to date, we were pretty happy, getting pretty serious. And then she was in a car accident. She was bleeding out when the Alpha reached her and bit her. He saved her life and turned her.”

"She…she was your soul mate,” Derek finally said as realization hit him.

Marcy just nodded. “Kathy and I were happy, and then one day we were…we accidentally knocked over a bottle of VMA and Kathy didn’t smell something terrible. She smelt lilac and honey. So I left. I left my pack and my family and moved away. I spent days and nights trying to find a way, because I was so close to loving her. And then I—”

“Marcy, what did I tell you about strangers?”

Derek swung his head around to see a woman walking up the path. She walked with a sure measure, eyeing Derek before looking happily at Marcy. “Why ya telling the silly beta our story, Mar?”

Derek stands quickly, nervous as hell and so uncertain.

"Derek’s soul mate awoke his spark before their bond was finished,” Marcy says as way of greeting.

Kathy leans to give her wife a quick kiss before she looks at Derek with the kind of pity that made his stomach churn. “Oh, kid.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Derek begs, looking between the two of them. “How is it that you two were able to be together? Please, you’ve got to help me.”

Kathy’s eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry, wolf, but you’ll never be able to be with your soul mate.”

And all the hope that Derek’s accumulated since he spoke with Deaton is gone. He pales and sits back down roughly, his knees not able to support him anymore.

“Kathy!” Marcy hollers, swatting at her wife, but Kathy catches her hand.

Kathy looks at Marcy, like she is going to cry, “What, would you give him false hope? Tell me, do you honestly think they can be together? I’d like nothing more than to help him. I can’t imagine having to live without being with you again…but Mar they can’t.”

"There is a way,” Marcy argues and Derek’s head snaps up, his eyes full of tears.

Kathy stops and looks over at him and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “Technically, there is a way for you two to possibly be together. But it’ll never happen.”

“It happened with us!”

Kathy glares at her wife and then whips her head over to look at Derek. “The half of the bond that’s broken…you’d have to find a way to recreate it without it killing him. To do that, he’d have to die.”

Derek blinks back. “What.”

Marcy purses her lips, rolling her eyes. “After we found out we were soul mates and couldn’t be together I…Well, I spent years researching everything I could get my hands on. We were both miserable. After five years I figured it out…I had to break my soul.”

Derek’s breath caught in this throat. “Meaning?”

"Basically, I had to kill myself with my spark and then bring myself back the same way. It’s incredibly dangerous and—”

There was a growl then, from Kathy. Her teeth bared and her eyes flashed a bright gold before she seemed to get ahold of herself. “Sorry,” she shook her head and then, “but even the thought of it after all these years… Marcy had no guarantee she could bring herself back. In fact, it’s near impossible. And tell me, Derek, would you be willing to let Stiles do that? Because if I had known Marcy was going to kill herself there is no way I’d have let her. Not even for a small chance that we could be together.”

Derek’s chest tightened until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like the air was getting squeezed out. It hurt, his chest. And he couldn’t get air.

“Derek it’s worth the risk,” Marcy was saying.

"Marcy,” Kath cut her off. “Are you really so stupid? Would you have let me do it? To Derek, nothing is worth the chance of losing that boy completely.”

And that makes Marcy go silent.

 Kathy and Marcy watched Derek drive off. He hadn’t said a word for hours as he sat there and howled and cried. They exchanged looks slowly.

“Did he tell you his soul mates’ name?” Kathy finally asked, looking at her sideways.

“Stilinkski from Beacon Hills,” Marcy said with a small, slow smile. She sat back in her seat, looking closely at her soul mate. “You know, if the kid can’t do it…Hale will come back for us with a vengeance.”

Kathy smiled sadly, looking after the way Derek had just left. “But how could I ever damn anyone to a life without their Marcy? Just better hope that kid is tough stuff.”

"We’d better go find his number.”

“You want me to what?”

"Stiles, I don’t want you to do anything. I’m giving you the information because I know that kid isn’t going to tell you. I just thought it was only fair if you knew too.”

They’ve been on the phone for three hours. Stiles would say it was excessive but he’s the one who kept asking questions.

He pauses a good long while, letting the information go through him. He’ pondered it before. What he’d be willing to give up, to do in order to be with Derek.

“Okay,” he breathes over the phone. “What do I gotta do?”

Derek drives in silence because he just can’t handle the noise. He leaves all his windows up and thinks about all the things he’s lost.

Stiles sets the ingredients around him, and he’s sweating up a storm. He can’t stop though, he just can’t. He double checks that the note is there. Dad will come home soon and he’ll see it. He shuts his eyes, and holds the mixture in hand. He twitches his nose once, and then he’s dumping it down his throat. It burns going down with a horrible flavor. He gags a bit but tries very hard to keep it down.

He waits.

Nothing.

And then suddenly the pain flares in his stomach and spreads to his chest. He shuts his eyes tight and thinks of Derek before he slumps, and he feels himself being ripped apart.

“Don’t call Derek,” Scott rereads the note out loud. “Take me to Deaton’s. I will be ok. I love you.” He looks back up at the Sheriff. “Jesus.”

There’s a woman’s voice. She’s not a particularly good singer, but her voice is soft, familiar, comforting. “Away in the valley, the valley so low, late in the evening, hear the wind blow. Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow, late in the evening, hear the wind blow…”

"Dad can I turn in the sirens?” A deep chuckle. “Alright.”

"I miss him,” says the soft voice of a little boy. “I’m sorry, Scotty.”

"Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight instead of going to the station? Scott would probably like that and your dad would probably get more work done.” “Thanks Ms. McCall!”

"It’s simple algebra. X is equal to five, obviously.” “Thank you, Lydia. You may go sit down now.”

“If the bond hadn’t broken, would you have wanted to try to be with me? If Deaton had just told us what we were and there was no reason not to. I know I’m not—would you have tried?”

“Nothing.”

The Sheriff slams a fist on the metal table. “Nothing? What do you mean?”

Deaton frowns at the body on the table. “He’s got to save himself. He killed himself, only he can bring himself back to life.”

"He’s dead?” Scott asks in a small tone. “But I can hear his heartbeat.”

“His body is still alive, yes,” Deaton agrees. But he stares at the still body on his table. “But his soul…it’s in pieces right now. And only young Stilinski can put it all back together.”

“Why would he do something like this?” The sheriff demands, seeming to grow older as the seconds pass.

Deaton shrugs sadly. “For love.”

Derek stops at a motel to spend the night. It smells terrible and he hardly gets any sleep. But when he does, life is cruel because he dreams of Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t know where he is. It’s cold here and he’s all alone. He thinks he was supposed to remember something important. He just doesn’t know what it is…

“Stiles, if you can hear me…you gotta fight this. You hear me, son? You come back to me. And then you are so very very grounded.” The sheriff begins to sob, clutching the sheets of the bed.

Stiles thinks he might be dead. Is that bad? He thinks it might be bad. But he doesn’t remember what was so important about living.

“Ms. Martin? Have you seen Stiles today? Or is he sick.”

Lydia nods, trying to suppress the shaking of her hands. “Yeah,” she nods with a smile. “He’s got the flu. Should be back soon.”

Stiles thinks it would be really hard to try to live again. He doesn’t think he could if he tried. He doesn’t see why he should. But maybe if he…if he tried…

“Stiles I hope you knew what you were doing,” Scott whispers to the room. It’s just him and Stiles at the moment. The sheriff is sleeping across the room, his jacket draped over him. “Because this is nuts.”

Dad. Oh, yeah. Stiles remember his dad. He’s all alone without Stiles. Wait, no. That’s not right. Melissa would look after him. And the officers at the station. And Scott.

Scott. Oh Scott was always terrible at making friends. He needs Stiles….no. He’s got friends now. He would be alright too.

Stiles thinks maybe it would be okay to let go.

But then he thinks there was someone else who needed him.

Derek doesn’t know what he’ll do when he gets home. He knows he can’t be with him, but just the thought of Stiles makes him want to smile. And it hurts so bad.

Derek. Dad. Scott. Lydia. Liam. Mason. Melissa. Parish. Derek. Derek. Derek. Shit. No, Stiles has to live because Derek would survive this, not again. Not one more person he loves.

Stiles takes what he thinks is a deep breath. And then he screams. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

“He’s waking up!” Deaton hollers.

It hurts so bad. It burns like fire and freezes over his skin. He’s tearing apart. Its too much. It can’t be worth it. No it….he screams again. It’s too much. But he has to. He needs to. Derek…

I have to make it. I have to make it. I “–have to make it!” Stiles yells, his eyes shooting open.

“I’m sorry, but I had to,” Stiles says hoarsely before sipping more water.

The Sheriff just tightens his hold.

Derek’s dead tired when he pulls up to the loft. He thinks he’ll go find the others tomorrow. For now, he should try to sleep. He’ll have to tell Stiles there was no chance now. He’d have to lie. Kathy was right, Derek couldn’t risk losing him forever. Not beautiful, perfect Stiles.

There’s one of Stiles’ hoodies sitting on his dresser, torn and unwearable now from one of their great adventures. Derek had saved it though, secretly kept it. He picks it up now, holding it tenderly in his hands before tugging it close to him like if he hugged the fabric he could feel Stiles’ arms around him.

And if anyone asked, he’d deny it with bright red ears and a pale face. But it’s the only reason he can sleep that night.

“Can we call him yet?” Scott asks, sitting at the chair beside the bed. “He got back late last night. I can smell it in the air.”

Stiles squints at Scott to raise an eyebrow. “I would mock the statement that just came out of your mouth but I’m too damn tired. Just—give me my cell, would you?”

“Sure,” Scott agrees, picking up the cellphone from where it’s charging. He hands it over, watching Stiles carefully like he expects the boy to holler in pain at any moment.

Stiles just rolls his eyes. “I know Dad said you were supposed to babysit me tonight while he’s working but…I’m going to text Derek. Okay?”

Scott nods with a small smile, blinking back at Stiles for a moment. Patiently, Stiles stares back, waiting.

“Oh!” Scott jumped up, a sheepish smile on his face. “You want me to go.”

“No offense dude, I love you and I’m glad we could hang out. But yeah, I think it’s best if you left.”

“Right, right.” Scott agrees. “I’ll just…”

Come to my room now. Urgent.

Come to my room now. Urgent.

Derek springs from bed the moment he reads it, groggy and half asleep. He’s pulling his jeans on as fast as he can, reaching for his jacket.

He doesn’t even bother with his car because the word urgent has already got him half shifted anyway. He runs as fast as he can, letting himself go to Stiles. To his house, to his window, spilling in with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

And there is Stiles, on the bed looking pale as can be. Wearing a startled smile. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Derek snaps, moving swiftly across the room to Stiles. He smells like sick, and sleepy, but also happy. It’s a bright smell-like maple. “I’ll always come. What’s wrong with you? What’s the problem?”

“No—I know you’ll always come—” Stiles eyes crinkle at the edges as he stares into Derek with a look the man’s never seen on his soul mate’s face. “There’s nothing wrong. Everything is good-great actually.”

Derek lets himself relax slightly, but he lets himself a moment longer to be close to Stiles, just a moment more. He nods. “Okay, then why am I here?”

“You’re going to be mad,” Stiles tells him, but his face is at full grin. “You’re going to be worried and concerned and a bit mad but….but I don’t care. Because then you’re going to be so happy.”

Derek’s shaking his head, narrowing his eyes, confused. “What—what are you—You said it was urgent.”

“I love you,” Stiles says and even though he’s smiling it comes out in a choked sob. “I love you so much.”

And Derek’s heart is pounding again. He’s frantic because those words make his whole body heat up with happiness and content and excitement and love but—“Are you dying?” Derek demands to know. “What—we can’t Stiles. We can’t.”

“They called me after you left because they knew you’d never tell me and I couldn’t—I had to try, Derek. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with what if because I love you. And so I did it. There was a long moment when I didn’t think I was going to make it but I did. I made it back. It was horrible and really hard and I was so scared. But I did, Derek.”

Derek can’t make words come out. He’s staring at Stiles with a broken kind of hope, like he doesn’t dare to accept what Stiles is telling him until he knows for certain. Because he can’t get hope taken from him again.

“I used my spark to shatter my soul into a thousand pieces Derek,” Stiles tells him then, beaming through heavy drops of tears. “And I picked each piece up one by one to put it back together. And you were there, helping me pick them up. And now the bond—it’s half formed again, ready for us to accept it and be together.”

Derek swoops forward, grabbing hold of Stiles, like he’s checking to make sure he’s alright. He kneels beside the bed, pressing a hand to the boy’s face with an urgent need to access his wellbeing. “Stiles, you shouldn’t have—You could have died and not come back! It could have been all over for you and that would have killed me!”

Stiles shakes his head as tears fall down his face. Derek hasn’t gotten ahold of the conclusion yet. “Derek, I love you.”

Derek’s breath gets caught in his throat. His hands tremble. “Stiles.”

"I love you and you love me. And we’re—what? Boyfriends? Fiancés? Is it too soon to say that? Doesn’t matter. We’re soul mates. I’m yours and you’re mine. You’re stuck with me now, you hear me? Derek Hale you listen because I don’t ever want to live through another day where I can’t be yours ever again. That means you’re going to have to deal with my stupid eating habits and singing horribly to the radio all the time and me talking the whole way through movies and you’re going to have to deal with it all. Because you’re my soul mate, Derek Hale and I. Love. You.” And then softer. “I love you.”

Derek is wiping Stiles’ tears away before the words even fully register. He stares at him, words caught in his throat. And then he’s standing, climbing over Stiles and onto the bed so he can wrap his arms around Stiles, pressing his face into Stiles’ shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut, encasing the familiar smell and listening to the pounding of his heart. He doesn’t want to wake up from this dream. This moment.

He thinks he should be mad or upset because Stiles gambled his life. But he’ll think about that later. Right now, right now he has to say something.

“I love you too,” he stutters out, pulling Stiles tighter to his body, like he never had to let go. “I love you so much. You’re perfect. You’re my everything, Stiles. And I don’t care what you call me, boyfriend, fiancé, partner…husband. Fuck, Stiles I’ll marry you tomorrow it’s what you want. Just so that I can have you forever.”

“You have me now, sourwolf. And I’m never letting go again.”

Derek pulls back to kiss him. He’s soft with his kisses, mindful of Stiles’ tired and weak state. But he can’t stop the need to be there, to just hold Stiles and kiss him and talk about forever with him. What Stiles wants to do with his—their life. What kind of house he wants. If he wants kids. If he’ll let Derek marry him the moment he turns 18.

Stiles it seems, has other ideas.

He pushes Derek off of him in order to swing his legs over Derek’s hips, to straddle his lap. He looks down from beneath his lashes to give another smile, no less brilliant. “I love you,” he says again like he’s been holding in those words, stopping himself from accepting it for so long it’s all busting to come out now. And then he dips down to hungrily attack Derek’s lips, licking his way into his mouth with curiosity. Like he’s got all the time in the world now to learn this new subject. And Stiles has always been curious.

 Derek ruins the kiss by grinning too hard.

Neither of them is too annoyed by that.

Stiles kisses down his neck instead as they act like two idiots in love, exchanging “I love yous” between every kiss and moan and lick.

“We can't yet, I’m not well enough. I'm falling asleep,” Stiles says eventually, pulling back enough to murmur into Derek’s skin. Stiles has his hands running down Derek’s side. Derek’s got his right hand on Stiles’ back and his left hand holding his ass to drag him impossibly closer. “I’m sorry,” Stiles offers, looking up. “I know we’ve waited so long but I—”

Derek pulls him for another long kiss, putting both his hands at the back of Stiles’ head to dig into his hair. He pulls him closer, licks in deeper, savoring the warmth and the lighting in his belly. When he finally pulls back they’re both panting, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Derek reminds him like he might have forgotten in the last minute. “And now…we have forever.”

“You’re not mad then…about what I did?” Stiles asks, searching Derek’s eyes for some sort of answer.

Derek looks up at him, all pale and shaky and undeniably happy. “Oh I’m furious,” Derek says, “but I’m also the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Let’s put off the argument until tomorrow.”

Stiles relaxes a bit, giving Derek all his weight to lay his head across his chest and wrap his arms about his torso. “I don’t know, I might be feeling loads better tomorrow and I wouldn’t want to ruin my good health with a fight.”

Derek grins despite himself, running a hand absently through Stiles hair while the other rests on one of Stiles’. “Best put it off for a week then, huh?”

He can feel Stiles’ smile against the fabric of his shirt. And then a soft question, “Stay?”

 Derek feels a lump in his throat as he leans his head farther back in the pillow, taking a deep breathing. “Forever,” he promises.

Kathy and Marcy receive a fruit basket in the mail a few weeks later. They just smile and shake their heads.