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As Derek drove through the nearly deserted streets of the place to which he swore he’d never return, he debated for the thousandth time turning around and pretending he hadn’t. Instead, he clutched the wheel tightly and thought about the letter tucked away in the interior pocket of his leather jacket.
A scent reminiscent of one he’d never forgotten flooded the envelope when he’d pulled it out of his mailbox. Derek shook his head. Had it really only been a couple of days since he’d fought the urge to tear the letter to bits and instead tore open the envelope to find a simple plea that had him grabbing his jacket and keys? He’d had to stop to sleep a few times, but for the most part, he’d been driving for nearly forty-eight hours straight.
The town hadn’t changed as much as he’d expected. After Scott had been left blinded by the battle with the Anuk-ite, Derek had tried to convince Stiles to leave Beacon Hills. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles’ loyalty to his friend had outweighed the feelings he’d developed for Derek. Although he thought he was foolish for being loyal to an Alpha that had not been loyal to him, Derek respected his choice and left without another word. As far as he knew, no one had any idea where Derek had gone, but the letter proved that someone had known.
He pulled up in front of the Sheriff’s house, the only place he was certain still held a resident that he knew and wouldn’t be completely upset to see him. He turned off the Camaro’s engine when he pulled in front and saw the front porch turn on and the door open. Instead of the Sheriff, a young child stepped outside and eyed the car with trepidation until Derek climbed out of the driver’s seat, concerned that the Sheriff might have moved.
“Derek,” the child called with the last remnants of a childhood lisp. “You came.”
This must be who wrote Derek the letter, who begged him to return to Beacon Hills because he was his father’s last chance. Moving closer, he took in the boy’s face, nearly identical to that of his mate, with a shock of strawberry blond hair falling across his forehead. Derek thought of a Banshee who had held the heart of his mate for so long, and his own heart lurched in his chest. He thought back to the letter and realized he’d never finished reading.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Lydia said you wouldn’t read the whole thing. I’m Alexander Sebastian Stilinski,” he said, holding his hand out. “And yes, my dad did it on purpose.”
Derek smirked, unsure if the boy meant that his initials spelled out ASS or that he’d been named after Derek and his father. Swallowing, he took the hand and shook. “Derek Hale. You know Lydia?”
The boy nodded. “She’s my birth mom, but I just live with dad and grandpa.” So the Sheriff hadn’t moved, but neither had Stiles. “She lives in England with her ex-boyfriend and his husband.”
Derek had known about that arrangement; Jackson was one of the few that kept in touch with him. He’d said, ‘Hello,’ to Lydia a few times when they Facetimed, but nothing beyond that. He got the feeling she blamed him for something. Now looking at Stiles’ son, he had a clue what that thing was.
He jumped when Alexander took him by the hand. “Come on, my dad will be happy to see you,” he said as he pulled Derek towards the house, huffing when Derek dug his heels in and tried to hold back. “Dad and Grandpa always said you were brave. Guess they were wrong.” He released Derek’s hand and headed into the house, leaving the door open so that Derek could hear what was happening upstairs.
A few minutes later, footsteps came down the stairs, and the Sheriff went out onto the porch. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Derek. “You coming in or not?” he asked, his voice gruff but still with that hint of fondness he’d had for Derek when he was a young man having life screw him over again and again.
“I don’t think he’d want me here, sir,” Derek said.
“I’ve told you to call me ‘John,’” the Sheriff - John - said, authority in his voice that snapped Derek to attention. “If you think, for even one minute, that my son hasn’t known where you are and what you’ve been doing the past fifteen years, then you aren’t nearly as smart as I’ve always given you credit.”
Derek dropped his head, guilt heavy in his heart. He’d always suspected that Stiles kept tabs on him, but he’d never allowed himself to hope for it. He’d chalked it up to a wolf pining for his mate and making up fantasies to keep him from going completely insane, especially after he’d rediscovered his sacrificed Alpha spark in the trees of Central Park.
“I should have kept in touch,” Derek said. “I wanted to, but….” He trailed off, and John clapped a hand down on his shoulder.
“You did what you had to do, but now you have to do something else,” John told him. “You’re the only one that can do it.”
“Scott-”
John snorted and cut him off. “Scott left Beacon Hills five years ago without a word. Last we heard, he was living in a commune in the woods in Canada somewhere. We tried contacting him, but he refused all of our calls.” Derek always knew that Scott’s loyalties always laid only with himself and whatever girl he was obsessed with at the time, but this surprised him. “The kid hasn’t been the same since he lost his sight. Stiles spent so many years blaming himself for not being able to help Scott regain his sight that Scott began to blame him for its loss.”
“Stiles saved his life that day,” Derek said, anger seeping into his words, and he could feel his eyes bleeding red.
“Ah, but Scott forgot that part.” He tilted his head and studied Derek’s face. “I see the rumors are true then. I had hoped they were because we might need that Alpha power in the long run.”
“Let’s hope not. Stiles liked being human,” Derek said, taking a hesitant step towards the house. “I don’t know if I could change him without his consent.”
“Then it’s a good thing he made a living will giving consent,” John said as he reached for Derek’s arm, grasping it gently above the elbow for a moment before pulling him into a tight hug. Derek stiffened for a moment before relaxing into his hold and returning the gesture. Neither one commented on the other wiping at their eyes when they pulled apart. “C’mon, son, let’s go see Stiles.”
Derek entered the house, feeling the buzz of magic filling the space as he crossed the threshold. Glancing down, he saw the black powder lining the doorway. “How...is that mountain ash?”
“Stiles has never stopped researching about his Spark. He’s become powerful enough that I believe Deaton is actually afraid of him, not that Stiles would ever intentionally hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.” They both thought of the Nogitsune’s victims, as well as Donovan. Stiles’ literal body count was high, but none of them was his fault. “He magicked that ash so that you’re the only ‘wolf that can cross it. Although, this is the first time we’ve been able to test it.”
“I knew it would work,” Alexander said from where he sat on the top step, arms resting on his bent knees watching them. “Dad is the best when it comes to magic.” Alexander snapped his fingers, and tiny blue sparks shone for a moment before disappearing. “He just started training me, but now….” He sniffled and wiped at his nose.
“How old are you?” Derek finally had to ask. He seemed too young to speak and perform magic as well as he did.
He puffed up his chest. “I’m twelve in two weeks. I know I look small, but I’m not.”
Derek smiled. “We’ll have to see if we can get your dad up and moving for your birthday, then.” For the first time since he’d gotten the letter, Derek had a spark of hope building inside of him. His shoulders relaxed, and he climbed the stairs, bypassing Alexander and crossing to the room Stiles had occupied as a teenager.
Entering the room was an odd mix of nostalgia and surprise. Most of the furniture was the same. Although the desk had been updated, the walls were still a mess of photos and string. He smiled at the blue string wrapped haphazardly like a frame around the entire lot and remembered Stiles saying, “Blue is just pretty.”
Derek studied the room before finally taking a deep breath and facing the bed. He choked back a sob when he saw Stiles lying there on his back, stiff and still, the blanket pulled up to his t-shirt covered chest. It took great effort to hear his heartbeat and see the rise and fall of his chest, but at least they were there.
“What happened?” Derek asked, stepping closer, flashing his eyes and looking for a cause but seeing nothing but Stiles’ usual aura, although it was muted somewhat. Stiles’ face was patchy with a beard that still wouldn’t grow in properly, and his edges had hardened, but he was still just as attractive as he had been in high school. Derek ran a hand over his face, regretting that he hadn’t returned sooner.
“He was out in the woods gathering ingredients to try and make another potion to help Scott,” John explained, his voice angry, and Derek had to smile at Stiles’ undying loyalty. “I got a call from him at around ten p.m. saying he was on his way home. When I woke up the next morning, he still wasn’t here. Parrish and I and some of the younger ones went searching for him. Mason and Liam found his Jeep, and he was inside, like this. No one can figure out what happened, not even Deaton.”
Derek sighed. “And you think I might be able to since Scott won’t do it.”
“I honestly don’t think I could trust Scott to do it, but we did try to contact him first. Stiles would hate knowing we bothered you.”
“Dad always said he wanted you to come back in your own time,” Alexander said. “He knew you’d come back eventually. It’s why he asked Lydia to have me because he knew he wanted to be a dad, but he didn’t want to be with anyone except you.”
Derek gaped. “What?”
John raised his eyebrows. “You’re shocked that Stiles waited for you? He’s been in love with you for as long as he’s known you. Can’t say I approved at first, but well, you can’t fight a love like that.”
“He didn’t love me enough to go,” Derek muttered, the hurt coming back, and he thought again about leaving.
“He loved you too much to go,” John said. “Neither of you was in any place to be together at that point, as much as I think you both wanted it. Now, though…” He looked down at his son, a fond smile crossing his face. “Now that I’m retired, and he has Alexander, I think we’re all ready to go and be together.”
“You got room in your big fancy house, Derek?” Alexander asked, smirking in a way that was so much like Stiles that Derek wanted to cry.
“I’ve got all the rooms the four of us will ever need,” he replied, reaching out and pulling Alexander into a hug by the back of his neck, scenting the top of his head without even thinking about it. His heart settled for the first time in fifteen years, and he knew what he had to do.
“Alright, I don’t think Alexander should be here for this,” Derek said, giving the boy a sad smile, but he just nodded and grabbed a book and earbuds, and headed out of the room. Derek heard his footsteps on the stairs. Once he was sure Alexander was occupied, he turned to John. “Help me sit him up.”
Working together, they got Stiles upright so Derek could move behind him. He managed to sit on the bookshelf at the head of the bed, steadying himself as John sat on the bed in front of Stiles, leaning his son on his shoulder. Derek took a deep breath and flicked the claws on his right hand out before placing them against the smooth, creamy skin of Stiles’ neck. He tried not to think about how much he’d always wanted to mark him but not this way.
“Okay, one...two….” On three, Derek plunged his claws into Stiles’ neck, and immediately a bright white light filled his head.
Blinking away the blinding light, he found himself in the Preserve. He tried to identify which part but struggled until he saw something familiar. Two teens boys were digging in the leaves on the ground, a figure in a black leather jacket watching from a distance. It was the first time he’d seen Stiles and Scott.
As soon as he identified the scene, the world spun, and he found himself at the high school standing next to the pool. Stiles and himself were struggling in the center, arguing. The world spun again, and he was in the hallway of the hospital just outside the elevator. This continued for a while, Derek jumping from moment to moment that he’d shared with Stiles until he reached a place he didn’t recognize.
The room’s walls were painted a pale blue, the ceiling covered with glow in the dark stars. A full moon nightlight sat on the nightstand. Stiles perched on the edge of the bed, a small boy with a shock of red hair tucked under the blankets. “Now, Alexander Sebastian, you’ve heard the story a million times.”
“Just one more time, please, daddy,” Alexander lisped.
“Alright, for the millionth and one time,” Stiles teased. “The evil lizard crawled along the edges of the giant lake. Sir Mischief struggled to hold up Sir Sourwolf, who had been poisoned by the lizard’s venom and could only move his mouth, which he used to growl at Sir Mischief.”
Derek chuckled at the story and settled to hear the ending, but the room faded until he was standing in a black void. “Stiles?” he called.
“Hey, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, walking out of the darkness, looking sheepish. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Stiles, you need to wake up,” Derek said, afraid to waste time. “You need to come back to me. To your dad. Your son.”
“I don’t know if I can, Derek.” He looked lost, lips turned down and eyes damp. “The witch - “
“A witch did this?” Derek growled, vowing he’d hunt that witch down once he was out of Stiles’ head.
“No. No! This witch is my friend. She’s a good witch. Like Glinda,” Stiles said, waving his arms around. “Except without the sparkly dress. Nancy would kill me if she ever heard I compared her to Glinda.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Hell, she might kill me anyway.”
“Stiles,” Derek said firmly. “Focus, please. I don’t know how long I have.”
“Right. Right,” Stiles said, nodding. Taking a breath, he looked at Derek. “What happens to a ‘wolf that is separated from his mate?”
“They live a less than full life,” Derek said, thinking of his own existence in New York without Stiles. “Eventually dying alone.”
“Do you know what happens to a Spark without his mate?” Stiles asked, and Derek froze. “They fade away. They cease to exist.”
“I...I never...I don’t know anything about Sparks,” Derek said.
“Neither did I until a few years after you left,” Stiles said.
“Why didn’t you...did you not know I was your mate?” Derek asked, stepping closer, frowning when Stiles stepped back. “Did you not want me?”
Tears spilled from Stiles’ eyes. “Derek, I never wanted anyone more, but I couldn’t force you to be with me. You wanted to get away so badly, but I couldn’t leave you alone either.”
“Alexander. You had a son for me?” Derek asked.
“I had a son for us ,” Stiles said. “I figured if you never came back, Alexander would be a comfort to you after I disappeared.”
“You should have told me,” Derek said, his own tears falling. “I would’ve come back for you, you idiot.”
Stiles laughed. “That’s what Scott tried to tell me. He’d been trying to talk me out of it for years. He probably would’ve called you himself if I’d ever let him know I knew where you were at.”
“Is that why he left?” Derek asked. “He couldn’t stand to see you letting yourself die?” Stiles looked sheepish.
“Take care of Dad and Alexander for me, alright?” Stiles said. “Please.”
“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “No, you can’t leave me. Not like this. I need you. I’m finally ready for you.”
“Derek, it’s too late. Nancy said when the coma happened, there was no coming back,” Stiles said.
“She never met us,” Derek growled and grabbed for Stiles, pulling him into his arms. He held him while Stiles struggled, and once he stopped, he leaned back just enough to look him in the face. They were both still crying, but Derek was not going to miss what could be his only chance.
“I love you, Stiles Stilinski, and you are going to wake up out of this coma, and you and your family, my family, are going to move to New York with me.” Stiles opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Derek silenced him with his mouth. He cheered internally when he felt Stiles kiss him back just before the world spun.
Derek roared as he pulled his claws from Stiles’ neck, falling back against the wall and putting a dent in it with his head, drywall dust flying out around him. Shaking himself, he looked at John, who was sobbing and holding onto Stiles, while blood oozed down the back of his neck. Derek collapsed onto the bed behind Stiles, fearful that he’d killed him.
As soon as Derek’s head hit the center of Stiles’ back, he heard it, the erratic heartbeat and the wrecking sobs coming from Stiles. He was alive and awake. “Stiles,” Derek whimpered. “My Stiles, my mate.”
The world spun, and Derek had a moment of panic, but it was just Stiles turning in his arms and tackling him to the bed. “You asshole,” Stiles shouted. “You didn’t have to come back! You didn’t have to do it! You were free of Beacon Hills!”
“Stiles. Stiles! Dammit, Stiles!” Derek grabbed his face between his palms and covered Stiles’ mouth with his own, silencing the tirade. “I fucking love you, you idiot,” he said when the kiss broke.
“Dad?” They turned their heads to see Alexander standing in the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot and rubbing his hand through his hair.
“Come here, son,” Derek said before Stiles could. Alexander’s face lit up as he dove onto the bed, working himself in between them.
“Well, hell, I’m getting in on this action,” John said before falling into the pile and pulling them all close.
It took longer than they’d expected to pack up the Stilinski’s lives and move them to New York, but two months later, they set out from the courthouse in Beacon Hills to head to New York. After four days of driving, Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand, feeling his wedding ring pressing warmly against his skin as he turned into the driveway of the house he’d bought in New York.
“It’s even bigger than the pictures made it look!” Alexander said, leaning forward between the seats. “Which window is mine?”
“Yours is on the back of the house, overlooking the pool,” Derek told him.
“A pool?” Alexander said. “Let me out!”
“It’s December in New York,” Stiles said. “You’ll freeze to death.”
Alexander pouted out his lower lip, but his eyes still sparkled with merriment. A horn honked, and the Sheriff pulled his brand new Explorer into the driveway next to them. “So, this is home?” he called out as they all climbed out of their vehicles.
“This is home,” Derek said, smiling at his family as he led them up to the front door. They all laughed as Alexander shoved everyone out of the way to use his own key to unlock the door.