Work Text:
Do We Deserve A Second Chance?
‘Smells good.’ Stiles said, pushing himself into Derek’s space as he leant against his back, hooked his chin over his shoulder and peeked at whatever Derek was making on the stove. It smelt amazing, but then, it always did.
Stiles could cook the basics, and cook them really well, but that was about it. Derek had a knack for cooking but it was something that not many people knew about. Stiles had only found out when he’d gotten to know Derek and not many people took the time to actually get to know him. Stiles however, never did anything by halves and had found himself falling for the man at the same time.
Derek cooked from scratch and he was fussy about the ingredients he used, driving miles to go to the best farmers markets around and only picking organic produce. Stiles had already learnt that Derek’s family had grown their own produce where they could and that his aunt had been the one to teach him to cook.
Derek grunted and added in a handful of herbs of some kind while Stiles stepped back and opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of gatorade that he knew Derek only kept for him. He’d forgotten to drink after getting sucked into a research wormhole. ‘Dad got another case this morning.’
Derek paused and turned to look at Stiles while still stirring the pot. Maybe it was chilli, Stiles loved chilli and hadn't eaten anything today. ‘What happened?’
Stiles shrugged. ‘Similar to the others but this woman kept chanting about trees. Lots of trees.’
Derek frowned and turned the stove down before fully turning to face Stiles. ‘You’re thinking whatever this is it’s out in the preserve?’
Stiles nodded. ‘All roads lead to Rome.’
Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to his cooking. ‘Stay away from there.’
Stiles snorted and gave Derek a sardonic look. ‘Like you will?’
Derek glowered at the pot. ‘I heal.’
‘So do I.’ Stiles countered, raising his eyebrow.
Derek’s eyebrows glowered back at him unhappily. ‘We don’t even know what we’re looking for.’
Stiles fought against his yawn, he wasn’t really tired even though he’d stayed up most of the night and day trying to figure out what the hell was doing this to the townspeople. ‘I’ve been looking into it.’
Derek raised an expectant eyebrow.
Stiles sighed. ‘There are so many terrifying creatures out there but none that seem to give people day terrors. Which, that’s the only thing it can be, they’ve all woken up terrified of different things. However there are spirits that do that.’
‘Spirits.’ Derek replied blankly.
Stiles wiped a hand over his face and shrugged. ‘I could be clutching at straws but it’s the only thing that currently fits.’
Derek shrugged. ‘I trust you.’
Stiles smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at those words.
‘How would these spirits be picking their targets?’
‘I figure someone is summoning them.’
Derek nodded. ‘And sending them after the victims.’
Stiles nodded. ‘I haven't found anything out about the ritual they would have to be using though, whoever is doing it knows a lot more about it then I do.’
‘How are the victims connected?’ Derek asked.
Stiles shrugged. ‘Dad couldn’t find anything so Scales is on the case.’
Derek rolled his eyes. ‘You know Jackson hates it when you call him that.’
Stiles sniggered, picturing Jackson’s face whenever he called him some variation of it. ‘That’s why I don’t do it to his face.’
Derek stared at him.
‘Much.’ Stiles corrected, recounting the many times he’d called Jackson it to his face, then grinned. ‘Or all the time.’
Derek sighed but Stiles and Jackson had an unspoken understanding that worked for them.
‘Hey, can you sense magic?’ Stiles asked, chucking his empty bottle in Derek’s recycling. For all the destruction Derek was capable of raining down, he was rather conscientious of the planet.
Derek frowned. ‘Sort of. It leaves a funny taste in my mouth and a lot of magic makes the air feel funny, sort of pressurised.’
‘Cool, I was hoping that was the case and thought we could go out magic sniffing after dinner.’ Stiles' eyes widened as he had a sudden thought. ‘Can your wolf eyes see that? Changes in air pressure?’
Derek shrugged and frowned. ‘Why after dinner?’
‘Well, at night but after dinner sounded cooler.’ Stiles rambled. ‘I think the spell takes a while to activate. It was a bit unclear on that, but it definitely said something about initially taking hours to activate before it became settled. I’m not quite sure what it meant by settled but figured that whoever is doing the summoning is probably doing it at night or early hours of the morning for it to be effective during the day.’
Derek nodded. ‘That makes sense, I’ll take a couple wolves with me.’
‘Hey.’ Stiles frowned, unhappily. This was not the plan, this was the opposite of the plan. ‘You and me, we’re a team.’
Derek nodded.
‘So. I’ll go with you.’ Stiles confirmed happily.
Derek raised an eyebrow. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Stiles blinked at him. ‘What do you mean, no? Of course I’m going. This is my awesome idea, ergo, I’m going with you.’
Derek sighed and crossed his arms, glaring at him. ‘You have no regard for your safety and always run head first into trouble and end up injured.’
Stiles frowned, feeling affronted. ‘No, I don’t. You do!’
Derek raised an unimpressed looking eyebrow. ‘The pixies.’
‘Hey!’ Stiles retorted indignantly. ‘So not my fault.’
‘The dryads, the nyads, the nymphs, the trees!’ Derek continued listing off.
‘The trolls, the centaurs, the witches, the sprites.’ Stiles retorted angrily. How dare Derek throw those situations in his face. There had been extenuating circumstances thank you very much. Extenuating circumstances that if Stiles hadn’t interfered and gotten hurt in the process, then someone else on their side could have died. It wasn’t like Stiles deliberately got hurt. He did not have a masochist streak, thank you very much.
‘I heal a lot quicker.’ Derek growled.
‘And how many times have you almost died!’ Stiles shouted at him.
Derek flashed his eyes, a sure sign of his temper getting the better of him. ‘What about you? You always run in head first regardless of the fact that we heal and you don’t! It’s like you have a death wish!’
‘Me have a death wish?!’ Stiles laughed coldly, his blood thundering dangerously through his veins. ‘You’re one to talk!’ Every single fight, it’s like you try to sacrifice yourself!’
‘Better that I get hurt than you!’ Derek shouted. ‘What if you died! How would I explain that to your dad?!’
Stiles scoffed. ‘I’m not going to die. But it seems to be all you want to do!’
‘I’m not trying to die!’ Derek threw his hands up in the air, a sign of him losing his temper.
‘Well, you certainly fooled me.’ Stiles snarked. ‘Always running in head first and always the first one injured. How many times after a fight are you the one lying on that sofa too injured to get to bed while everyone else is walking around fine?’
Derek glared at him, taking deep breaths. ‘I’m done talking with you about this.’
Stiles scoffed. ‘Of course you are. Anyone ever gets too close to the truth and you run away from it. Rather get yourself injured or killed than allow anyone in.’
‘Go home Stiles.’ Derek ordered, turning his back to him.
Stiles snorted, feeling too worked up, and shook his head. He hit the counter with his hand but did as Derek said, turning around to leave but not without having the parting shot. ‘Running away like always.’
He slammed his way out of the loft, feeling the need to punch something. Why did Derek do this to him? Why did Stiles allow him? He ran down the stairs, needing some sort of exertion but it did nothing to curb his temper.
He yanked at the sliding door, cursing when it caught his little finger, but he ignored the niggling pain and stared at the downpour. When the hell had it started raining? And why the hell couldn’t Derek have used this as an excuse to not go out tonight instead? He made a run for it and slammed into his jeep, frowning in apology at his rough treatment but sighing in relief when Roscoe started the first try.
He paused before pulling out, watching the rain slice down, hitting the ground with such force he could see it kicking back up almost a foot into the air. He calmed his breathing and checked around himself, ensuring it was clear before he pulled out of his parking space and carefully drove away. He knew better than to drive angry in weather like this, because that was how accidents happened.
Derek frowned and glared at his phone again. Stiles hadn’t texted him to tell him he was home. He always text him once he got home, no matter what was wrong, unless he was so exhausted or needed medical attention, and then he knew that Derek would soon turn up to check on him. Was he wanting Derek to turn up? To finish off their argument? Derek rubbed at his chest. That wouldn’t account for the hollowness in his chest though. He looked out the window. It was raining pretty hard, maybe he should run the route back to Stiles’s house just in case, and if he still hadn’t heard from Stiles then he could just stand outside and listen for his heartbeat to make sure he was home and just still pissed with him rather than hurt or injured.
Derek breathed out and looked up at the ceiling, was he over reacting? Stiles wasn’t anything like the victim type, not that there actually was a victim type, so that wouldn’t matter. And if Stiles was right, which, when was he wrong? Then someone was summoning this thing for revenge, and well, Stiles was good at pissing people off. It wasn’t exactly a stretch of the imagination that Stiles could easily have inadvertently, or deliberately, pissed this unknown person off. He might not be happy with it, but Stiles had perfected pissing people off to a perfect art.
Derek sighed and grabbed his coat, heading for the door, hoping Stiles hadn’t refused to text him to make some sort of point. He could easily run straight to Stiles’ house, it would be quicker, but that hollow feeling was telling him to retrace Stiles steps, which in this rain, would be next to impossible, but Derek knew Stiles and knew which way home he preferred to go.
He glared at the rain that was pouring down in droves and obliterating any trace of scent left of Stiles or his jeep. With a groan, and a final desperate look at his phone, Derek started jogging, knowing that anyone could be watching so he couldn’t run it as a wolf or even shifted. He had to stay human and once again wondered if Stiles was doing this deliberately. He wouldn’t put it past him and cursed Stiles once again, because he had better be in trouble, otherwise he was going to kill him.
In seconds, Derek was soaked through and wished he’d left his leather coat at home, since it clung and pulled as he jogged and generally made running uncomfortable. He squinted through the gloom and rain, only just making out the end of the road. It was completely clear with no sign of anyone, let alone Stiles.
He continued on, knowing at this pace it would take him at least twenty minutes to get to Stiles’ house and wondered if anyone was watching and if he could go a little faster. He couldn’t feel any eyes on him and if there was anyone watching, well, they would be expecting anyone to be running in the rain to be running as fast as they could. He increased the pace again and turned left onto the back road that was the quickest way back to Stiles’s. It was a faster, quieter road that looked eerily haunted at night and so not a favourite of many people.
Derek increased his pace as a large dark shape seemed to loom out of the misty dark ahead of him. Uncaring if anyone saw, Derek raced forward at an inhuman speed as the shape morphed into Stiles’s jeep. Something in him froze as his heart sped up erratically. Stiles hadn’t been being petty. Something was wrong. But why hadn’t he texted him? Unless his phone had died? Derek really hoped that Stiles had just broken down and that his phone battery had died but when had he ever been that lucky?
He frowned at the gloomy fog surrounding the jeep, which wasn’t natural. The mist didn’t appear to be anywhere else, just surrounding Stiles’ jeep and the rain didn’t seem to be affecting it either. He slowed down, trying to listen for something other than his own pounding heartbeat. It took him a moment to realise that he couldn’t hear Stiles’ heartbeat either. Was he not in the car? Had he gone for help?
He took a deep breath and concentrated, and a slow version of the erratic heartbeat that Derek knew belonged to Stiles slowly became audible. A lump formed in his throat and he struggled to swallow as he surged forward, uncaring if the mist was evil, toxic, poisonous or some sort of evil being. Stiles was hurt and he needed to get to him. His heartbeat was slow and sluggish and Derek couldn’t hear him moving. Nothing was moving. It was too still and silent, the entire area. Everything was all off.
He got to the jeep and yanked the door open, almost pulling it off its hinges, and he stared a moment in horror, seeing Stiles, pale and seemingly lifeless, lying in the driver's seat with his head lying too far back along the headrest to be natural or comfortable.
‘Stiles!’ Derek hovered over Stiles, his eyes darting everywhere, but there were no wounds and he couldn’t smell any blood. His hands hovered, not knowing where to touch or how to help. He placed a hand over Stiles' chest but he wasn’t in any pain, so he carefully picked Stiles up. Stiles’s head flopped alarmingly, and he slowly pulled Stiles out of the jeep.
‘Stiles? Come on, Stiles, open your eyes.’ Derek pleaded as he sat down with Stiles in his lap, ignoring the rain and clutching Stiles to him. He carefully held Stiles’s head, but his eyes didn’t open, his heart rate stayed at the same worryingly slow pace, and his breaths were shallow. He wasn’t responding and Derek hunched over to try and stop the rain dripping into Stiles’ face as he gently shook him and tapped Stiles’ face, ignoring the fact that his entire body was shaking. Stiles was cold and pale and Derek had nothing to help him with. He had no idea what he could even do to help him.
He leant his head back and howled.
‘What the hell happened?’ Jackson demanded.
Derek blinked at him, uncomprehending. When had Jackson turned up?
‘Derek!’ Jackson shouted, but he sounded far away. ‘What happened?’
‘I-I don’t know.’ Derek replied, looking down at Stiles who was still in his arms, still pale and now soaking wet.
‘Derek, we need to get him to a hospital.’ Jackson said, reaching forward towards Stiles.
Derek growled, clutching Stiles closer.
Jackson rolled his arms and instead prodded at Derek.
Derek blinked, suddenly realising what was going on. He glanced at Jackson appalled and then down to Stiles.
‘Get him in the jeep.’ Jackson ordered, climbing into the driver's seat, grumbling. ‘This piece of shit had better start.’
Derek got into the passenger seat, cradling Stiles on his lap. He raised an eyebrow, impressed when the jeep started the first try. It didn’t even always start first try for Stiles.
Jackson crowed in victory and he floored the jeep and sped off. ‘I am so lording this over Stilinski.’
Derek whimpered as Stiles’ heartbeat stuttered as Jackson took a corner and the jeep rocked alarmingly.
‘There should be towels in the back.’ Jackson said, revving the engine and swivelling the wheel to straighten the jeep back up. ‘Warm him up!’
Derek heard the words; he understood them, but couldn’t make sense of them. He looked down to Stiles, who was still pale, still unmoving, heartbeat still too slow. The words echoed in his head, getting louder instead of fainter and he blinked.
He breathed in sharply and reached back, searching for a towel and instead feeling a duffel bag, he yanked it through, inadvertently hitting Stiles with it as it thumped into the seat with them. He used a claw to slash it open and pulling out a mostly clean towel began using it to dry Stiles.
He braced them both, barely slowing in his ministrations as Jackson threw the jeep around a corner so violently that two wheels came off the ground and the jeep almost rolled before Jackson used his reflexes and senses to time it perfectly for the jeep to wobble back down onto four wheels.
‘You back with me?’ Jackson demanded.
Derek grunted, hearing the underlying panic that Jackson was hiding well.
‘About time, what the hell happened?!’
‘I don’t know.’ Derek said tersely, yanking Stiles wet shirt off and drying him. ‘I found him in this jeep like this.’
‘Then why were you out in the rain?’
Derek growled.
‘Fine.’ Jackson huffed, slamming on the brakes.
Derek only just managed to brace and stop himself from flying through the front windscreen as they skidded to a stop at the hospital. He elbowed the door open and raced into the emergency room with Jackson right beside him loudly demanding help.
A gurney appeared in front of him, and Derek reluctantly placed Stiles on it before shrugging off the nurse’s questions with a silencing glower. ‘I found him like this.’
The nurse turned to Jackson who widened his eyes threateningly and turned back to Stiles before the nurse continued to pester them with questions.
‘When did you find him? How long has he been like this? I can’t help him to the best of my ability unless you tell me what you know.’
Derek could smell the anger on her, but her words were calm and her demeanour was competent as she checked Stiles over, took his vitals, and called out numbers as a doctor approached, taking his cues from her.
Derek nodded his head at Jackson who huffed but answered the questions while Derek pulled his phone out and dialled the Sheriff.
‘Hale.’ John sounded wary.
‘It got Stiles. We’re at the hospital,’ Derek muttered, trying hard to hold onto his emotions. He could hear the sharp intake of breath and a swallow followed by more measured breathing.
‘I’m on my way.’ John hung up so Derek did the same and interrupted the nurse and doctor.
‘His father’s on his way.’
‘We’re taking him to run some tests, but we’ll need to get him up to the ICU to get his body temperature up.’ The doctor didn’t make eye contact as he turned to another nurse, listing off what Derek presumed were tests to be run as Stiles was wheeled away.
Derek raised an disbelieving eyebrow at the mention of the ICU. He knew exactly what this hospital had to offer and that a lot of serious cases had to be airlifted to surrounding hospitals that had the better and more specialized equipment. Beacon Hills did have a kick ass trauma surgeon, which was desperately appreciated with all of the supernatural problems they encountered.
‘What’s his name?’ The first nurse asked him.
‘Stiles.’ Derek blinked, then added. ‘Stilinski.’
The nurse's eyebrows lifted. ‘The Sheriff’s son?’
He nodded.
‘We’ll take good care of him.’
‘What do we do?’ Jackson asked, frowning and glaring at anyone who dared look at them.
‘Find out what the hell this is and kill it.’ Derek glowered as he tracked Stiles’ heartbeat through the hospital.
Jackson snorted and gave him a look that said he’d assumed that. ‘Do we leave him here?’
Derek glowered at a couple holding balloons but shook his head. ‘We’ll wait for his dad. I don't want him here alone.’
Jackson breathed out noisily. ‘He hates hospitals.’
Derek swallowed and nodded. Stiles had never said that he didn’t like hospitals but they could smell it on him every time he came here. Even if he was all smiles, jokes and laughs, and was just visiting Melissa, his scent always gave away his hatred of the place.
‘Do we know what the hell this is?’ Jackson asked, sounding worried but looking carefree and unconcerned.
Derek swallowed.
Derek smelt the Sheriff before he barrelled in through the door and turned to wait for him with Jackson right beside him.
‘What happened?’ John demanded instantly.
Derek opened his mouth but froze. It was his fault. If he hadn’t argued with Stiles, then none of this would have happened, and Stiles would still be fine and not lying unconscious and hypothermic somewhere in the hospital a floor above them and several wings away.
Jackson thumped him on the elbow, and Derek tuned in to him speaking in a low hushed voice. ‘Heard Derek howl and found them beside the jeep on the back road out in the rain, with Stiles comatose and unresponsive.’
‘We argued.’ Derek managed, his voice hoarse and filled with guilt. ‘I didn’t want him out looking for this thing and we argued about it. He left angry.’
John sighed and looked at Derek, his face filled with pity. ‘Derek, you were looking out for him. You think I don’t know he texts you as soon as he’s home because otherwise you’ll worry and come check on him?’
Derek frowned.
‘He complains about it every time but is always smiling as he does.’ John wagged a finger in his face. ‘And you know, just as well as I do, that if he didn’t want to, then he wouldn’t bother.’
Derek closed his eyes. It somehow hurt even more, the lack of yelling. He would prefer it if John screamed at him and blamed him. That he could handle.
‘What lead did he have?’ John asked.
Derek frowned. ‘Lead?’
John rolled his eyes. ‘The reason you argued and didn’t want him out looking for this thing?’
‘Magic, he thinks someone is summoning a spirit and sending it after the victims.’
John nodded. ‘Could be why there's no set victim type if someone’s sending it after people they feel have wronged them.’
‘What was his plan to track them?’ Jackson frowned. ‘He asked me if I could smell magic but it’s not a smell.’
Derek shook his head. ‘But it leaves a funny taste in your mouth, the air might feel strange, kind of pressurised, and we’ll naturally want to avoid the area but not understand why.’
‘So you need a human with you to tell if you’re avoiding a certain area?’ John asked.
Derek groaned. ‘Why didn’t he use that argument instead?’
John huffed a laugh. ‘I’ve been doing this longer, son.’
‘Do we have anything to go on?’ Jackson asked. ‘Apart from some idiot possibly summoning spirits?’
‘Please tell me my son had more to go on than that?’
Derek grimaced. ‘Not that I know of, but there might be more in Stiles’ notes. His plan for tonight was to drive around and see if I could sense any magic.’
John sighed. ‘Maybe I should check his computer and see if he’s come up with anything else. I can go over the victims again and see if there is anything that could link them together.’
‘If it’s just one person then there has to be something,’ Jackson said bluntly.
Derek frowned. ‘How sure are we that it is just one person?’
‘Aww hell.’ John ran a hand down his face. ‘That would complicate matters. Let’s go on the basis that it’s just one person and see what we find. If we don’t find anything that way, then we look at it from the angle that it could be multiple people.’
Derek nodded. ‘Okay, Jackson and I will see if we can find a trace of the magic.’
John raised an eyebrow. ‘And if you do find a trace, what will you do then?’
Derek’s eyes flashed red. ‘Destroy the one summoning these spirits.’
‘And if that doesn't help Stiles wake up?’ John asked dubiously.
Derek growled, feeling frustrated and annoyed but seeing the sense in what John was saying, even if he was the newest to the supernatural side of things. ‘We’ll keep whoever it is alive then.’
‘Did Stiles have any idea on what kind of spirit it was that was being summoned?’ John asked.
Derek shrugged, not wanting to think too heavily about the argument he had had with Stiles. ‘I think he did, but he didn’t mention any names.’
John nodded. ‘I'll check on Stiles and wait here for the doctor's updates, if he’s anything like the others, he’ll be waking up screaming in a couple of hours.’
Derek tensed, not wanting to know what horrors Stiles was currently witnessing.
‘Should we stay and wait for him?’ Jackson asked, looking torn.
John shook his head. ‘If you can break this thing sooner, please do.’
Derek nodded, needing to be moving to feel as if he was doing something and with Stiles hurt, he needed to feel as if he was doing something. He nodded to Jackson and headed out the hospital, knowing Jackson was following him. He breathed out slowly and unclenched his fists.
‘Running or driving?’ Jackson asked quietly.
Derek growled. He needed to move, he wouldn’t be able to stand sitting in a car doing nothing.
‘Running it is then. But you know we could cover more driving as we wouldn't have to hide.’ Jackson pointed out.
Derek headed straight for the jeep, vaguely thinking it was a shame it wasn’t Jackson’s Porsche, at least then he’d see how smug Jackson would still be when his claws made an appearance.
‘What the hell is that?’ Jackson demanded as Derek felt the telltale tingle of magic trickle over his skin and a faint taste not unlike chlorine sat in the back of his mouth.
‘Magic.’ Derek spat out, letting his eyes bleed red and had to strain to see where the air shimmered with the recent remnants of magic. ‘Over there.’
He leant into the centre of the car as Jackson turned the wheel so quickly the Porsche tires screamed on the pavement, leaving a burning smell but stuck securely to the asphalt as they headed towards the magic. The chlorine taste became slightly stronger and slowly more noticeable as they got closer.
Derek hadn’t complained when Jackson had driven to his while they searched and swapped the cars over. The Porsche was faster and while he hadn’t accidentally clawed the Jeep, he’d been getting progressively more worked up and closer to losing control. He didn’t care about the state of Jackson’s car even though Derek knew just how much Jackson could hold a grudge.
‘Why does it taste like a swimming pool in my mouth?’ Jackson grimaced as he tried to air his mouth out.
‘Magic.’ Derek replied shortly, keeping his eyes red as he glanced around, trying to pinpoint the exact area the magic had come from and see if Stiles’ theory bore any weight to it. They were on the outskirts of a subdivision where each house looked identical to its neighbour with a matching garage. One house, whose lawn looked more unkempt than the others with more weeds sprouting out along its borders and a rusty garage door, had more shimmery air surrounding the garage than anywhere else. He wouldn’t be surprised to find that the air would feel pressurised around the garage. ‘There! The garage.’
Jackson slammed his foot down on the accelerator, flooring the car before screaming to a halt in front of the garage. Derek could feel dozens of eyes on them from the neighbouring houses. Jackson was nothing if not obvious in his actions, and they certainly hadn’t been stealthy in their approach. Not that Derek really cared. It was only the many pairs of eyes he could feel on him and the twitching curtains that stopped him from shifting as he stalked up to the garage. He easily broke the lock and raised the door, but the garage seemed to be empty.
The air closed in on him and he felt short of breath but could smell that someone had been there recently though and had been scared and anxious. He could smell their scent and track it through the side door leading to the house.
‘Is this an altar?’ Jackson’s question stopped him in his tracks.
He turned back and glanced at where Jackson was standing. Frowning he stalked over to see there were multiple candles burnt down to different levels, jars filled with different coloured liquids and smells, flowers in varying stages of decay, a spell book laid out on a table, and herbs collected in clumps and put on display all around a haphazard circle marked out in what looked to be children's crayons.
Derek growled and turned at the sound of an accelerated heartbeat and running footsteps before a car engine was gunned followed by the screeching of tires.
‘Dammit.’ He growled, swiping at a couple of jars and took off running as he heard them shatter on the concrete floor behind him while he chased the youth down with Jackson close beside him.
Derek growled as the car careened around a bend but luckily the driver had chosen to head towards the deserted part of town so Derek had easily been able to keep up with it without drawing any, or hopefully much, attention to him. Glancing around, he leapt forward and landed on the car’s roof, punching a hole through the sunroof and grabbing on as the driver screamed and slammed on the brakes as Derek yanked at the wheel. He could feel the plastic of the car slice through his forearms from where he’d broken the sunroof but still held on.
Derek huffed in annoyance wondering what the hell was going through the idiot's head as the car finally jolted to a stop and said idiot fell out and started running. Derek jumped down, feeling the tears in his arm begin to heal themselves as Jackson appeared in front of the guy and snarled, his eyes flashing yellow, causing the man to squeal in fear.
‘Oh shit.’ The guy whimpered, fear clogging the air. ‘I didn’t know! I swear!’
‘Lie!’ Derek roared, slipping into his beta shift, his eyes glowing red at the stutter in the man's heartbeat.
‘I only wanted to even up the playing field!’ He practically whaled. ‘The first one’s always picked on me but then I realised The Algea could help me clear the playing field for the department that I wanted to go into!’
‘What?’ Jackson stared at the man. ‘You summoned spirits to torment people so you didn’t have to do any work? Are you fucking kidding me?’
The man whimpered and Derek twitched his nose as a faint smell of urine hit his nostrils, but he had more important things to discuss with the moron. ‘And what the hell did Stiles do to you?’
‘What’s a S-Stiles?’ The man stuttered, sounding terrified.
‘You summoned them earlier this evening to deal with him!’ Derek roared, about to lose his patience and break his promise to the sheriff and kill him.
The man shook his head adamantly. ‘I-I havent summoned them since I heard about the last girl. I-I’d never heard of her. It wasn’t me.’
‘What?’ Derek demanded, then glanced at Jackson as the air around them seemed to get misty and colder.
‘We do not answer to him anymore,’ a voice whispered silkily from the mist. ‘But we cannot give up such a tasty meal with so many negative emotions. Such a banquet you are providing.’
‘Even if you did break our meal on the last one,’ another voice hummed from a different direction.
‘What the hell?’ Jackson murmured, his eyes wide as he glanced at Derek.
‘How many did you summon?’ Derek demanded.
‘There are three.’ The man whispered. ‘Lype, Ania and Achus.’
‘And I so enjoyed the meal you and your friend gave us.’ One of them laughed, but sounded fainter than the other two. ‘I didn’t even have to put things in his head. The pain and grief he was already feeling.’
‘Sorrow and distress.’
‘And anguish. It is all so fulfilling and appetising.’
‘That’s what you feed on.’ Jackson murmured, staring at him in horror. ‘That’s why the victims had day terrors.’
‘We do,’ the three voices chorused.
‘What did we do in the garage?’ Jackson demanded.
Derek stared at him blankly. ‘What?’
‘We broke their last meal. Stiles was their meal. What did we do?’ Jackson demanded.
‘The jars.’ Derek breathed out in realisation, and he remembered a couple of them accidentally smashing on the floor. It was the only thing they’d disturbed.
‘We will not let you go so easily.’ One of the voices laughed. ‘The last one may have only fed the one of us, but there are three of you here.’
‘Go.’ Derek breathed and closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do to save Stiles; he thought about the one thing he’d tried for years to forget. If Stiles’s anger over their argument had fed just the one, then he had plenty that would feed all three of them.
He thought about the fire, allowing all the feelings and emotions he'd repressed and pushed as far away as he possibly could, bringing up all the resentment, fear, heartbreak and pain up to the surface as he heard Jackson running away and his footsteps disappearing the further he got. He allowed his guilt to bubble up, and let his hatred and anger and disgust of Kate boil out while his heart cried out for the family he had lost.
‘Oh, such suffering,’ a voice exclaimed dreamily.
‘Such sorrow,’ another groaned contentedly.
‘Such pain and anguish.’ The third’s faint whisper sounded delirious.
Derek heard someone, possibly the idiot summoner, scream, but he was too tired and heavy to do anything about it as darkness overtook him.
Stiles woke up with a gasp, his eyes wide as he realised just how cold he was as his arms slowly flailed out heavily as if for help.
‘Stiles! Stiles! It’s okay, you’re alright.’ He recognised the voice as his father’s just as he recognised the room he was in as being in the hospital. He hated the hospital even though he visited it routinely and not just because of his inherent clumsiness, but he couldn’t understand why he was here now. Or why he was so tired and sluggish; he never felt sluggish.
‘Dad?’ His voice was raspy as he shivered violently and struggled to keep his eyes open. ‘What happened?’
His dad looked at him patiently, relief in his eyes. ‘I was hoping you could tell me that.’
Stiles blinked at him and yawned widely. ‘I’m freezing. Why am I so cold?’
‘We thought the spirit had been sent after you.’ His dad shrugged out of his Sheriff’s coat and wrapped it around Stiles. ‘But you’re remarkably calm for that having happened.’
Stiles blinked at him as he buried himself into the warmth of his dad’s coat and yawned for a second time before tamping down on the urge to yawn for a third time. ‘The spirit? It was summoned for me? But I was just at Derek’s…’ The argument came back to him and he scowled, rage pushing through his exhaustion. ‘He was such an asshole! Just because I’m not a were does not mean that I’m not just as capable or important as the others!’
‘Of course not, son. But what exactly do you remember?’ His dad prodded him. ‘After the argument.’
‘After the argument?’ Stiles pulled a face and closed his eyes. ‘How do you know about the argument? It only just happened, I was just driving home…’ He trailed off and stared at his dad. ‘It hasn’t only just happened has it?’
There was silence and he opened his eyes to see his dad shake his head.
‘How long?’
‘A few hours. Derek found your jeep in the rain on the back road.’
Stiles frowned. ‘I remember it raining, and I didn’t want to drive angry. I turned onto the back road, it was really dark but…’ He shook his head and looked around the room, yawning again. ‘That’s all I remember. Where is Derek?’
‘I sent him and Jackson to try and find the magic user summoning this spirit.’
Stiles grunted, scowling as his eyes tried to close on their own accord. ‘I could have gone if I’d been awake.’
His dad sighed, sounding long suffering. ‘Stiles, if someone is trying to look out for your health and wellbeing, especially when you’re prone to running head on into danger with creatures that would kill you as soon as look at you, appreciate it, don’t bite their heads off!’
Stiles glared at him. ‘I did not bite his head off.’
His dad stared at him.
‘Okay, so I may not have been happy about it, but he could have phrased it better than he did!’
‘And what about you? Could you have been politer?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?’ Stiles demanded, refusing to yawn a fourth time.
‘I'm on the side of keeping you alive and happy and healthy.’ His dad’s tone was cutting and Stiles winced.
‘Alright, alright, no need to rub it in.’ He grumbled, feeling stupid and miserable and still extremely cold. ‘Did they find the caster?’
‘I’m assuming so, seeing as you woke up several hours sooner than the others did and you haven’t been screaming incoherently.’
‘They must have destroyed the altar!’ Stiles said excitedly, sitting up and closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness almost made him pass out.
‘Lie back down.’ His dad ordered, hovering over him.
‘Mm fine.’ Stiles mumbled, keeping his eyes closed but fought against falling asleep. ‘Just give me a sec.’
‘Stiles,’ His dad sighed, suddenly sounding old. ‘Rest and get yourself better.’
‘Are we going home?’ Stiles asked, squinting his eyes open hopefully.
‘I’ll go see about getting you released.’
Stiles beamed but his eyes were closed and he could feel himself relaxing into sleep. ‘Thanks, dad.’
‘Love you, kiddo.’
‘What are you doing?’
Stiles turned to see Jackson looking faintly grossed out in his bedroom doorway.
‘Packing,’ He said shortly before turning back to the task at hand where he had been shoving clothes into a duffel before he’d begun tidying his room when he’d gotten distracted by a pile of comics and had almost taken another nap. He’d already spent enough time in bed sleeping. He grabbed some more pants and shoved them into his duffel before remembering that he’d also need shoes and would probably need either more duffels or maybe a couple suitcases for this. He was angry and tired and couldn’t believe after everything he’d been through, everything he’d done, he didn’t even warrant a courtesy call. A visit. A phone call or even a stupid text message.
‘What are you packing and why?’
Stiles shrugged as he glanced between two plaids shirts and threw them both in the duffel. ‘Had enough of this place. I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving?’ Jackson sounded confused. ‘You’re leaving Beacon Hills?’
Stiles glared at him. ‘No need to sound so disbelieving.’
Jackson snorted. ‘I’ve been trying to get you to leave for years. What the hell pushed you over the edge?’
Stiles paused in his packing and turned around to face Jackson. ‘Like hell you have, when?’
Jackson stared at him. ‘Are seriously that dense? I keep a go bag in the trunk of my car for when you finally pull your head out and agree to leave this shithole with me! Lydia’s already got a place for us and we’re just waiting on you.’
Stiles blinked at him, feeling completely off balance. They had a plan to leave Beacon Hills? Although Lydia had already left Beacon Hills, was Jackson implying he had only stayed for him? What the hell was happening? What was the world coming to? He knew that they were friends now, good friends, who showed their caring with insults, but he’d had no idea that Jackson wanted to leave Beacon Hills, or that he wanted Stiles to go with him. ‘Huh?’
‘Look, I know you don’t want to leave Derek, but I promise you, if you tell him you’re leaving, he’ll come with you. Hell, ask him and he will!’ Jackson threw his arms in the air.
Stiles glared at him and scoffed. He could only deal with one thing at a time and currently it wasn’t Jackson wanting them to leave. ‘Like anything I say or do has any effect on Derek.’
‘You really are that dense.’ Jackson glared back at him.
Stiles rolled his eyes. Insults between them were not unusual. ‘So where does this plan of yours take us?’
Jackson shrugged a little too casually. ‘Wherever we want. But we have to visit Lydia in New Jersey, and once she’s finished with school, as long as wherever we end up has good prospects for her, she’ll join us.’
Stiles nodded knowing that there was more that Jackson wasn’t yet willing to say. He probably wanted to ease Stiles into the idea first. ‘Let’s go then.’
‘Uh uh.’ Jackson shook his head. ‘You need to speak to Derek first.’
Stiles rolled his eyes. ‘In case it’s escaped your notice, he doesn't want to talk to me. He hasn’t come to visit me, he’s not replying to my texts, and my calls go straight to voicemail.’
Jackson stared at him. ‘Jesus Stilinski, he got his arse handed to him by that spirit and is still recovering. His phone also got destroyed in the rain, and if he can't even haul his ass out of bed how the hell do you expect to visit you or replace his phone?’
Stiles stared at him, his words repeating in his head. ‘What do you mean he got his ass handed to him?’
‘I mean, he tried to protect me in the fight, not that I needed it, and got his ass handed to him. Spirits are evil, tricky bastards, and he’s still recovering from it.’ Jackson explained, sounding as if he was explaining a very simple concept to an idiot.
Stiles stood still, Derek was hurt and no one had told him? Why had no one told him? How badly hurt was he? He lunged for his jeep’s keys and pushed past Jackson, struggling to get breath into his lungs. Why had no one told him Derek was hurt? He jumped into his jeep praying for it to start as it turned over, spluttered, and died. He turned it over again but this time, it just whined.
‘Come on, baby, please, please, just this once and I’ll never use you again. I’ll put you in a museum so you can live out the rest of your days like a queen.’
There was a snort at his side, and Jackson stared at him judgingly before holding up his own car keys and dangling them in the air. ‘If you promise not to blubber, I’ll drive you over.’
‘Done.’ Stiles scrambled out his door and only just managed to open Jackson’s car door before falling into it.
‘Don’t upset my car or its upholstery,’ Jackson ordered.
Stiles rolled his eyes. ‘You say that like I’ve never been in your precious car before.’
Jackson glared at him as his car started on the first try. ‘You asked to go through the drive through! You do not, under any circumstances, go through a drive through in a car like this!’
‘Stop complaining.’ Stiles muttered anxiously as Jackson thankfully put his foot down and drove at his usual erratic, but fast, pace. ‘It’s not like I’m asking for fast food now, although I don’t think I’ve actually eaten today…’
Jackson snarled at him and spun them around a corner so fast, Stiles felt his shoulder slam into the door and had to grab onto the handle. ‘Don’t even think it, Stilinski, or I’m leaving you here alone to rot.’
Stiles frowned. ‘I wouldn’t rot, my dad’s still here and it’s not like I’m incapable. Oh my God, do you think I’m incapable of the basic necessities of life? Dude! You’ve even seen me cook!’
‘Exactly, I know just how much of a disaster you actually are.’ Jackson snarked back, but Stiles was both pleased and annoyed for the distraction. He still couldn’t believe that he’d been sitting at home, sleeping and sulking while Derek was injured. Why had his dad not told him? Why hadn’t anyone told him? Had he really been wallowing that badly?
Stiles didn’t even bother thanking Jackson for the ride as he scrambled out the car and stalked up to Derek’s loft, quite happy with the internal rant he was mentally giving Derek. He heaved the door open, frowning at how much energy it had taken out of him but loudly called out for Derek.
‘Stiles?’ He heard a faint reply coming where he knew Derek’s bed was and headed straight there.
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were injured?’ Stiles demanded before ploughing straight on and answering his own question. ‘You broke your phone and stupidly got injured, like I predicted. Why the hell did no one else tell me you were injured? How badly hurt are you? No, don’t get up, what do you need?’ Stiles’ irritation quickly gave way to concern when he saw Derek actually struggling to get up out of bed even though he couldn’t see any wounds on him.
‘I’m fine.’ Derek huffed, sounding pained and out of breath.
‘Jackson said the spirit did a number on you.’ Stiles accused him.
Derek rolled his eyes and growled. ‘Mentally and it just tired me out is all.’
Stiles scoffed. ‘Oh. That’s all, that’s why you’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf and the little piggies is it? And all you’re trying to do is sit up in bed? Jesus Christ, Derek.’
He pushed Derek back against the headboard, surprised and alarmed when Derek just went with it without any resistance.
‘What happened?’ He asked quietly, trying to calm his breathing and even out his heart rate before he had a panic attack, that was the last thing Derek needed to deal with currently.
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Stiles said sharply, frowning when Derek flinched. He softened his tone. ‘Derek, talk to me.’
Derek swallowed. ‘Did your research find what spirits were summoned?’
Stiles shook his head. ‘I was still narrowing it down but there were so many. I figured they had something to do with nightmares and pain.’
‘The Algae.’
Stile frowned. ‘Greek mythology? The Roman counterpart is Dolor. But they’re not one spirit, they're three.’
Derek nodded. ‘Three of them, Lype, Ania and Achus. They liked suffering and grief.’
‘Yeah.’ Stiles nodded as he tried to remember more about them in his research spiral. ‘Lyphe is the personification of pain, grief and distress; Ania is distress, sorrow and boredom; and Achus of anguish.’
Derek nodded. ‘Jackson and I found the altar, but the man admitted that he hadn’t summoned them recently, that he’d had nothing to do with the last victim, or well, with them going after you.’
‘Maybe that’s what the text meant by them becoming settled. They no longer needed to be summoned,’ Stiles mused out loud.
‘Possibly.’
‘So how did you kill them?’
‘I don’t know if we did, but they admitted we’d broken their hold on you and I’d broken a jar at the altar.’
‘You break the summoning circle and you broke their tether here,’ Stiles breathed. ‘That’s brilliant! But it doesn't explain your current state.’
‘We weren’t anywhere near the altar when we found that bit out and they weren’t willing to let us leave,’ Derek admitted.
‘So how did you do it?’
‘I kept them distracted while Jackson ran back and destroyed the altar.’
Stiles blinked at him, drawing a blank. ‘How?’
Derek winced. ‘They liked grief and pain. I let them feel mine.’
Stiles frowned in confusion before understanding dawned. ‘The fire.’
Derek nodded.
‘Shit. Derek, I’m so sorry.’
‘S’okay.’
‘No, it’s not, it’s really not.’ Stiles shook his head. Derek never spoke about the fire or what had happened. Never. It was a subject that everyone avoided like the plague around him, and he’d dredged it all up and for what? For him? He’d put himself through even more pain and suffering to help him? ‘You didn't have to do that, Derek.’
Derek shook his head. ‘Yeah I did.’
‘Derek…’ Stiles felt awful and lost for words, what the hell did say? Derek had laid himself bare to his worst memory for Stiles. He’d relived his worst moments to help Stiles. ‘Is that why you’re still recovering?’
Derek nodded and shifted in his bed, breathing heavily from the effort.
‘Here, let me.’ Stiles leant forward, not really knowing what Derek wanted but rearranging the covers around him anyway. Why would Derek do that for him? That was something that you did for someone you cared a great deal for, for someone you didn’t want to be without. Someone you possibly loved.
‘Stiles.’ Derek whispered.
Stiles looked up, not realising just how close he was to Derek and placed his hand on Derek’s cheek. ‘You saved me, the least you could do is let me look after you.’
‘Aren’t you still recovering, too?’ Derek muttered
Stiles shook his head, watching as the tips of Derek’s ear turned pink. ‘I don’t remember anything, just the argument and being cold.’
Derek frowned, but his eyes never left Stiles’.
‘Why?’ Stiles asked.
‘Why what?’ Derek blinked.
‘Why would you open yourself up like that for me?’
Derek’s breath caught and Stiles slowly leant forward, slowly enough for Derek to stop him with a single action or word before he gently pressed his lips to Derek’s. He felt Derek’s breath stutter out and closed his eyes as he gave him another chaste kiss before leaning back and looked at Derek.
Derek looked as if he’d just ran a marathon, wide eyes and breathing heavily.
‘Was that okay?’
‘Stiles.’ Derek sounded tortured. ‘Do you mean it?’
Stiles cocked his head and frowned. ‘Mean what?’
Derek closed his eyes, swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. ‘You-you aren't just kissing me out of pity?’
‘What?’ Stiles heard himself screech. ‘Derek, I’ve been in love with you for years, you utter moron. Why the hell would I kiss you out of pity after you’ve just laid yourself bare to an evil fucking spirit to save my life?’
Derek blinked at him, looking stunned. ‘You love me? You’ve in love with me?’
‘Yes, you utter fucking fuck.’ Stiles shouted, wanting to hit him for being so annoying but also didn’t want to hurt anymore than he actually was. ‘How the hell with all of your wolfy sense have you not figured that out?’
Derek gaped at him.
Stiles threw his arms up into the air. ‘I thought we were finally actually getting somewhere. Then you had to pull the “I don’t heal as quickly as a were” card and now act so boneheadingly dense! Maybe I should leave!’
‘Leave?’ Derek’s eyes flashed red and he gripped hold of Stiles arm but in his weakened state it wasn't a firm grip. ‘You’re not leaving me!’
Stiles blinked, instantly calming down as he recognised the fear in Derek’s voice. ‘Apparently Jackson’s been trying to get me to leave for years.’
Derek growled.
‘You wanna come with?’
Derek blinked at him, looking lost. ‘You want us both to leave Beacon Hills?’
Stiles shrugged and nodded.
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Dunno yet. I’m sure Jackson has a plan. Or Lydia does. He alluded to one anyway.’
Derek nodded. ‘Okay.’
Stiles stared at him. ‘Really?’
Derek nodded again.
‘Just like that? You’d leave with me?’
‘I’d go anywhere as long as I had you.’
Stiles beamed at him and pulled him in for another kiss. ‘How about we get you better and then decide where we go?’
Derek grinned, playing with Stiles’s fingers. ‘I like the sound of that.’
Stiles’ phone pinged and he sat down on the bed next to Derek and cuddled up to him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the text from Jackson and made a confused noise.The noise bastard was clearly still downstairs and listening in on them.
‘Jackson says he’ll meet us in Montana in a week's time.’
‘Montana?’ Derek repeats, a funny note to his voice. ‘That’s where Peter is.’
‘Really?’ Stiles asked, scrunching his nose up. He kept in contact with Peter purely because he knew his shit and always answered his phone when Stiles needed him to, but whenever he’d asked Peter had never answered where he was now living or what he was up to. ‘Chris settled in Montana with his new partner not long ago.’
Derek looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
‘What?’ Stiles frowned then stared at Derek in realisation. ‘No. Really? That… how does that even work?’
Derek raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
Stiles felt himself flush beet red. ‘No, I get that. I know how that works, you asshole, but seriously, what’s the attraction to the Argents? Are they secretly sirens or something?’
Derek shrugged. ‘At least Chris isn’t Kate.’
Stiles huffed and settled himself more securely against Derek’s side, enjoying the feeling of protecting him but feeling out of sorts and not happy with it. Before Chris had, what was to him, suddenly upped and left Beacon Hills, he’d thought he’d been in a steady and strong relationship with Melissa. ‘My gaydar is way off.’
Derek huffed a laugh. ‘Oh yeah, you want me to fill you in on everyone else?’
Stiles gaped at him. ‘Everyone else? Who the hell else is there that I’ve missed?!’
