Work Text:
The call came at 4am.
Stiles woke up disoriented, tapping his bed trying to find his phone. He knew it wasn’t a work call, that phone was still sitting on his desk in the office where he was going over case notes last night. The case he was currently working on wasn’t anything that would warrant a call from his co-workers past midnight. He looked at his dad’s name flashing across the screen, wondering why he’d call him this late at night – and of all the reasons, he couldn’t think of a good one. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever it is his dad was about to tell him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice still hoarse from sleep, knowing there was no reason to even pretend this was a normal call.
“Stiles- “, Noah started, voice shaking. “Son, I’m sorry to wake you up this late, but – can we talk?“
“Dad,” Stiles sat up in his bed, heart pounding. He knew that tone. “Dad, is someone hurt?”
The sheriff hesitated on the other end.
“It’s Derek,” he finally said. “Derek is dead.”
The room felt so much smaller around Stiles now, and he couldn’t remember how to breath.
[…]
He missed the funeral.
Uprooting his life in DC wasn’t as easy as you’d think. But still, since in all his years at the FBI he barely took any leave, had any holidays or sick days, when he called his boss and said he needed time off, at least a month, he wasn’t met with resistance, but he still needed time to set everything in order before leaving.
He used the 5 hour flight back to California to go over every single thing he knew so far for the 100th time. The Nogitsune came back. Mr Harris was behind that somehow? The Nogitsune tricked everyone into bringing Allison back from the dead and it tried to use her to get revenge on Scott and his pack. Lydia managed to eventually bring Allison’s memories back, but they still had to deal with the evil spirit going around town, and apparently the only way to destroy it was to have Jordan burn it alive – Derek included.
Stiles ran his hands over his face. Burned. Derek burned to death.
He felt sick again.
He couldn’t understand how this all happened – how did they allow this to happen. Why did someone have to die, why it have to be Derek, why wasn’t there a different way, why didn’t they have a better plan–
The drive to Beacon Hills felt like the longest drive of his life. Anxiety kept building in his chest, and he felt more and more uneasy the closer he got to this cursed town. It had been years since he last visited. There was nothing there for him anymore but painful memories, feelings he didn’t want to face or something trying to kill him at every corner. Kira left before they even finished high school. Lydia didn’t come back to visit once she moved to San Francisco. Liam moved to Japan. God, even Scott left. He always thought that out of the two of them, Scott would be the one to stay, come back after college and settle down, establish Beacon Hills as his territory since the Hales were gone and the town needed an Alpha.
It was late when he finally arrived. He pulled up to his father’s driveway and sat in the car for a while. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. He left for a reason, so he didn’t have to deal with the supernatural and everything that came with it anymore – the constant fighting to stay alive and safe, the fear, the loss.
The porch light came on, so he knew his dad was waiting for him. He took a deep breath and opened the car door, bracing himself.
Here we go.
[…]
He found himself sitting in his dad’s kitchen, mug of coffee in hand. It was late, but he didn’t care. In fact, he probably needed something stronger. His dad was making tea, coffee not being good for his heart at this age. He sat down across from Stiles, still not sure what to say.
“How was the flight?”, he asked.
“Why did no one call me?”, Stiles fired back and Noah sighed.
“You had your own fires and we didn’t want to bother you”, he replied. “We didn’t know what was happening. We didn’t what was causing it and when we found out– “
Some part of Stiles wanted to understand. Why they would keep him away from the Nogitsune. Just the thought of facing it again sent shivers down his spine. But they defeated the sick son of a bitch once so he knew they could do it again, he would have put up a good fight with the bastard as many times as he had to if it meant to protect everyone he cared about. Keep Allison and everyone else alive. Because he could run and hide all he wanted, and he could tell himself he was done with all the supernatural bullshit, but this was his family and he’d always come back and fight for them. But he wasn’t there, they didn’t gave him that chance, and now Derek is gone.
“Run me through what happened again,” he asked and Noah took a deep breath.
[…]
Stiles told himself he was going to look for Scott and the rest of the pack first thing in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He assumed they knew he was back, his dad would have told them, and for a second he wonders if they would come to him. He didn’t know the answer to that. It was weird and awkward, being back at Beacon Hills. He thinks of the texts he didn’t answers, the postcards he never sent. He thinks of when Scott invited him to see his shelter once it had first opened, how proud he was of it, and Stiles didn’t make it because of work. How they only spoke a couple of times year to wish each other a happy birthday at the very best. He thinks of Allison, who’s now probably too young for all this, an Allison that wasn’t there to fight the Beast of Gevaudan, who probably didn’t know about the Wild Hunt, about her grandfather trying to kill everyone she loved and her aunt being a fucking werejaguar. He thinks of Lydia, who left him in the middle of the night and never came back over a stupid dream. He thinks of Eli, a kid that felt like part of his own family once and he hasn’t seen in over ten years who now lost his father, as if it was not enough to have lost his mother as a toddler.
He thinks of everything he should have done differently in the past 15 years, wonders if any of it would have changed what happened. He’s telling himself that’s a dangerous way of thinking, and before he even realizes, he’s made his way to the Beacon Hills cemetery and found Derek’s tombstone, bright, clean and new compared to the others surrounding it.
In Loving Memory of
Derek Hale
Nov 07, 1988 - Aug 29, 2026
Stiles stares at the grave for what feels like hours. He doesn’t understand why there is a grave. His father told him there was no body. The hellfire burned so hot that there was nothing left, of Derek or of the Nogitsune. There was nothing to bury. A grave means Derek is gone. It means everyone just accepted the fact that he was dead. Everyone was okay with the fact that Derek sacrificed his life to get rid of the Nogitsune and there was no way back. Stiles wasn’t going to accept that. Not in a world when they brought Allison back. Not when even Peter Hale rose from the dead. He knew there must be a way, and he was going to figure it out.
“Your father said I might find you here,” he heard a familiar voice say.
Stiles turned around and saw Scott standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, a sad smile on his face. Stiles didn’t even hear him coming.
“I don’t like the buzzcut”, is all Stiles says.
Scott chuckles, running one hand through his hair.
“Come here, man,” Scott pulls him into a hug. “It’s been too long.”
Stiles hugs him back. It has been long. He tries to think of a time when him and Scott where inseparable, like brothers, and that felt like a lifetime ago. He hugs Scott a little bit tighter then, because despise the years, he still cares. He still thought of Scott as one of his closest friends, and everything might be wrong right now, but Scott was okay. Scott was alive.
“I’m sorry, man”, Scott says. “It should have been me. Derek–“
“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles interrupts. “It doesn’t matter because we’re bringing him back.”
“Stiles…”
“He’s not gone, Scott. Clearly no one is ever fucking gone in this town,” he snaps. “So Derek sure as hell won’t be.”
Scott looked at him for a second, searching his face for any sign he would give up on this. He knew he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t going to try to change his mind. Scott had thought about that himself.
“If we’re bringing him back, we’re going to need help.”
[…]
Allison hugs Stiles as soon as she sees him. Stiles holds her a bit too hard, the smell of cinnamon and Allison making his eyes water a little bit. He thinks of his seventeen year old self that almost died after being possessed by the Nogitsune, about how Allison gave her life to save him and he never got to thank her.
“It’s good to see you,” she says, and Stiles doesn’t think he can say it back because he might cry if he does, so he just nods.
Stiles takes a deep breath, trying to clear the lump on his throat and looks around the room. They’re all here. The pack, even if they don’t really consider themselves that anymore.
“We need a plan to bring Derek back,” he starts. “So I need to know how you brought Allison back.”
“It was Lydia who came up with the ritual,” Malia says.
“I didn’t come up with it,” Lydia snaps back. “It came to me.”
Stiles stared at Lydia for the first time since he stepped into the room, all the things unsaid between them in her eyers.
“We used the weapon that killed her, a handful of earth from where she died and took it to the Nemeton,” Scott explained.
“All of the sudden it was like we were in the eye of a tornado until it stopped, and the tree started glowing until Allison literally appeared out of thin air,” Malia continued. “It was weird.”
“There’s no murder weapon this time,” Lydia pointed out. “Parrish–,” she cleared her throat. “Jordan killed him with hellfire.”
“And I don’t assume we’re planning on sacrificing him,” Liam commented.
Malia’s eyes flashed blue at the suggestion.
“No one is sacrificing anyone,” Stiles said. “We’ll need to come up with an alternative plan.”
“We don’t even know if that is possible,” Jackson spoke up, crossing his arms.
Stiles got annoyed at that.
“I’m sorry, shouldn’t you be in London or something? And besides that point, can’t you see Allison? And what about Peter? Goddamn it, Jackson, even you died and came back.”
“I was barely –“ Jackson tried to defend himself but got cut off by Lydia.
“It was different with Peter. The only reason it worked was because his body was mostly intact. Derek’s body is gone.”
“So was Allison’s,” Stiles hurled back.
Lydia pressed her lips together and Stiles took a deep breath.
“Look, there must be a way to bring him back the same way we did Allison,” Scott stepped in. “We can at least try. Maybe change the ritual around a bit, I don’t know.”
“Yes, because magic works like that,” Malia rolled her eyes.
“Maybe we should talk to Peter. He’ll know something. Or at least know of books that can help,” Lydia suggested. “I’m sure he has plan A through to Z in case he dies again.”
“Deaton might be able to help as well,” Scott agrees.
Stiles nodded. It’s a start. It’s something.
“I think we can work with that.”
[…]
Deaton and Peter aren’t that much help. Stiles was hopeful, but saw that coming. They don’t know exactly what can help, but they know where to look. Stiles spends most of his time looking through old books and runes, trying to translate languages he doesn’t even know the names of. He thinks their best shot is finding the original ritual that brought Allison back, learn more about it, find if there’s a way they can change it to work with what they got. Which is not much. But they know where Derek died and they know how, he’s just hoping they can find a way that doesn’t involve anyone else getting hurt.
Lydia helps. Out of everyone, she’s the one who comes early morning with two coffees in a tray– his coffee black with two sugars and just a splash of cream, the only way he’s ever drank it and she’s never forgot even though they haven’t really seen each other since they were nineteen– and sits in silence until late, flicking through books and papers without saying a word. Stiles wonders if she feels like she owes him something. He’s long past the hurt he felt when she left ten years ago, when it didn’t matter how many times he’s told her ‘it’s just a dream, it won’t happen’, how many times he held her close after waking up to her screams, and she didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him. They were so young. Stiles wonders if she’s happy with the life she built without him.
“Did you ever regret it?” he asked her one night, when his brain is too tired to think properly.
“Regret what?”
“Leaving,” he says without meeting her gaze.
Lydia thinks for a second, a sad look in her eyes.
“No,” she finally answers. “I did what I thought was best. And somehow my life worked out fine, in a way that I didn’t think it would.”
He nods. “I don’t think we were ever meant to last,” he admits to her, even though it’s something he’s only ever thought to himself, a conclusion he came to after many lonely sleepless nights.
“I know. But it doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other.”
Stiles agrees.
[…]
He came home to visit the first few years after he moved out. Mainly for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and he’d never stay for longer than a week, but he did it. He didn’t want his dad to be alone, and he didn’t really know what to do with himself since Lydia. He told himself that his dad was the lonely one, the one that needed the company, but he came to found out he wasn’t. The sheriff kept himself busy with work, even though Stiles kept suggesting he should retire soon, and somehow his free time would be taken by spending time with Derek, who clearly needed help with a son he didn’t know what to do with. Stiles was surprised when he first heard of Eli, whose mother Derek met when he decided to leave Beacon Hills to live with Cora in South America. Stiles doesn’t know all the details, he never asked, but he knows she was human and she died when Eli was barely two. Derek came back after that, opened his shop with Peter and Malia and tried his best as a single dad.
Stiles learned of all this over the phone on what should have been a casual conversation with his dad, and he couldn’t stop his heart breaking for Derek. Derek, who deserved all the happiness in the world after all he’s been through, all the loss he experienced in his life time.
He brought both Eli and Derek Christmas presents that year.
[…]
“What’s going to happen to Eli?” he asked his dad one day.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “Scott is talking about taking him to Los Angeles if… if this doesn’t work.”
Stiles ponders about that for a second. It made sense. Scott was the Alpha and Eli would need that, and Stiles knew Scott, knew that Eli would be in good hands. But still, the thought of Eli leaving Beacon Hills, the only home he’s ever known, the only family he has left didn’t sit right with him. He’s old enough to decide if he’d like to stay or leave, and Stiles couldn’t judge him if he decided to leave. He decided to focus back on the book he had in his hands.
“I gave him the jeep,” his dad confessed after a minute.
“What?” Stiles’ head shot up. “Why?”
“He kept stealing it. To annoy Derek. And it worked every single time,” Noah smiled sadly. “He thought he hated it.”
Stiles let those words sink for a while.
“Why did he think that?”
His dad gave him a knowing look, and Stiles decided not to push the issue. If anyone deserved the jeep anyway, it would be Eli.
[…]
Parrish eventually shows up at the house. He looks like hell and Stiles wonder if he has had a good night of sleep since Derek passed.
“I want to help,” he says as soon as Stiles opens the door. “I don’t know how, but I want to help.”
Stiles nods and lets him in. He can feel Jordan’s guilt, heavy in his shoulders. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knew all it took to stop the Nogitsune last time, and that Jordan did what had to be done. He did believe things could have been handled better but there’s no one to blame.
It’s been almost three weeks since Stiles came back and they haven’t made much progress. Lydia was still there most days, Parrish would come along whenever he had the chance. Allison started showing up as well, eager to help, trying to do something with her newfound life where she still felt lost and confused most of the time.
“Maybe he’s just trapped,” Stiles says after looking at Lydia’s notes for a little too long, the shape of the Nemeton spread across the living room.
“How do we know that for sure?” Lydia asks.
“We don’t. But I was,” he replies. “When it possessed me— I wasn’t gone, just trapped. So was Allison,” because she told him one night, about how she didn’t remember anything but that same white room with no end in sight, the empty space where she felt nothing until all of the sudden she was just back. “Maybe that’s what always happens when the Nogitsune hurts or kills someone, they always end up in Bardo.”
Lydia looked unsure.
“It could be possible. I mean, it would explain how we got her back in the first place.”
Stiles could work with that. He’s been there before. And if he got out once, he could do it again.
“But even if it is” Lydia continued. “Stiles, you can’t go in alive.”
Well, it’s not like Stiles hasn’t been dead before.
[…]
It narrows their search down. Stiles switches to searching through Buddhist mythology, and he found evidence to back his claim. Some of it was gibberish, and some of it was too poetic make sense but Stiles found texts which spoke of how souls became trapped in Bardo for a long time after their death, stuck between worlds. They had been in and out before, with great consequences but still in one piece, but this was different, trying to bring someone back, someone whose connection –whose body– is gone is much more complicated than the ritual performed by Deaton.
There are a few things he puts together eventually. They didn’t have the same ingredients that made Allison’s resurrection possible, so he needed to strengthen his connection to Derek’s soul somehow to find him, and there was a way, a theory really, and he didn’t know how Parrish would take the suggestion. They had a strong bond as it is, but being sent to the same place by the same person could make their chances of finding Derek even higher. It was all very hypothetical but it was the best they had so far.
Also, they needed something to connect Derek to their realm, an enchanted object that would pull him back. Deaton said he could help with that, matter of fact, he had an old triskelion necklace carved out of wood gifted to him by none other than Talia Hale herself.
Now they just needed to figure out the perfect time to make the crossing, because bringing someone back is not something you can do whenever you feel like it. No, you need the right time almost down to the second, and the deeper they searched for it, the more dangerous this ritual seemed to be.
“Crossing over won’t be easy for Derek,” Lydia points out, because she knew there was always a price. “If this is to work, he’ll lose something.”
“I don’t know what a dead person couldn’t possibly even have to sacrifice—“
“Their power.”
Everyone turned their heads to Jordan, who had so far remained quiet, wondering what the hell he was on about.
[…]
So as it turns out, it is in the late hours of Halloween when the veil between our world and the next is at its weakest, because of course it is, which means they had to wait another whole month. Druids celebrated Samhain long before it became a day of costumes and ghost stories to scare children which diluted the superstition around one of the most important and sinister dates in ancient Celtic religions.
Stiles found himself at the Nemeton, now covered in runes they spent the last hours drawing on the wood. Lydia had the enchantment in her hands whilst everyone else stood around the tree in a circle, and Jordan held a silver knife in his hands. Stiles wasn’t too excited about that part, having to be near death himself to be able to cross. But the thinning of the veil gave them the slightly advantage that he didn’t have to actually die this time.
“Are you sure about this?” Scott asked.
“Someone’s got to fix this mess,” he replied.
“I should be the one to do it,” Scott protested, like he’s done for the past month.
“No, I’ve been there the longest out of everyone before. And Derek—,” he hesitates. “It has to be me. And you’re the Alpha, if this goes south, we can’t afford to lose you too.”
Scott sucked in a sharp breath, his hands curled into fists on his sides.
“You won’t have much time before we pull you back, Derek or no Derek,” Deaton reminded him. “You have 30 minutes, maybe, before it realizes that you don’t belong there. If the veil re-establish itself then and if you’re not back, you’ll be stuck. That is if you don’t bleed out before then.”
“Gotcha. Be fast or get stuck in the bad place for god knows how long, or possibly bleed to death.”
“Stiles. It could be forever.”
“I’m really enjoying the optimism, guys.”
“Time will feel different,” Deaton continued. “So you need to act quick, and we’re not taking any chances.”
Stiles sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He would be fine, and before they even knew it, it would all be over. He pressed the enchanted necklace Deaton prepared for Derek against his palm and tried to steady his heartbeat.
“I’m ready.”
Deaton nodded to Lydia, who started reading the text out loud as Jordan’s eyes turned amber and Stiles felt a sharp pain on his side.
[…]
When he comes back to consciousness, he feels stuck in the same nightmare he had over and over again for years. The nightmare where he’s trapped in a room so bright he can barely keep his eyes open, where he could walk for hours and still never reach an end. Except he wasn’t alone this time.
“Stiles?” he heard a voice call, and he turned around, because he’d always recognize that voice.
Derek looked at him in disbelief, not sure if he was real.
“Hey there, sourwolf,” and Stiles hugged him, because he could, because he never thought he’d get the chance again.
“Stiles, why— what are you doing here?”
“Well, I couldn’t let your dumb ass get away with sacrificing yourself like that,” he replies.
“But—“
“Look, I’d love to catch up and explain all details of my awesomeness and how Stiles saved the day again but we don’t have the time and I need you to show me your eyes.”
Stiles didn’t have to explain what he meant before Derek’s eyes flashed red, and Jordan was right, and this could actually work. He didn’t have time to explain, this was their best shot, so he put the necklace around Derek’s neck and hoped for the best.
“Stiles, what—“
“It doesn’t matter right now. You just need to trust me and not let go.”
Stiles held on, as tight as he could, but he could still feel Derek disappear from his arms as he got pulled back into unconsciousness.
[…]
Stiles came back like he was drowning. He could quite fill his lungs with enough air, his body hurt and he could feel a panic attack building in his chest.
“Stiles— Stiles you need to calm down, your side,” Scott was kneeling besides him, hands on his shoulder. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Derek— “ he had him, he had him not even a second ago and now he was gone. “He was there, he— “
“Stiles—,” Lydia looked distraught. “It didn’t work— only you came back.”
Stiles couldn’t quite make sense of what she just said before everything went dark.
[…]
He woke up two days later. His dad was sitting on the chair next to his bed, looking like hasn’t slept in a lifetime. Stiles tried to move but the pain on his abdomen made him grunt instead.
“Hey, hey,” Noah came closer. “Take it easy.”
“Derek. Did it— did it work?” his voice sound hoarse, tired.
The sheriff didn’t reply, the sadness in his face the only answer Stiles needed. He felt his eyes burn, but he still refused to shed any tears, because no, he wasn’t going to accept this, not now that he knew Derek was out there, he wasn’t going to stop until they got Derek back, even if it killed him, because—
Because he never told him.
Stiles never admitted it even to himself, never said it out loud, but he knew the reason him and Derek always gravitated towards each other, even when he was still convinced that he loved Lydia, that she was the love of his life, even then there was always something that pulled him towards Derek. The way that out of everyone, Derek was the one always there for him when he was younger, and he would be grumpy and snarky towards Stiles, act like he didn’t really care, but Stiles knew he was the one he could call in the middle of the night and Derek would always answer.
Because when he was twenty one he came back to Beacon Hills, and it was the second Christmas Derek and Eli spent with his dad and subsequently Stiles, and the last one Stiles ever came back for. They still talked back then, Derek would text him and Stiles would complain about work, about how he was glad his training is over but he was new and they wouldn’t give him a chance to prove himself just yet, how he knew he could do better than solve cases a child could figure out. Derek would talk about the shop, about how he now helped the police station with his expertise, and he’d talk about Eli, who just started kindergarten and Derek always thought he could use the extra free time to focus on work but now he missed his son's constant laughs and cries and he wasn’t ready for how fast he was growing. Eli knew Stiles back then, he knew his voice from every video call the sheriff would make to his son when he was babysitting Eli, he knew the funny faces Stiles made when he was trying to get him to laugh. Stiles found himself looking forward to seeing Derek and his kid as much as he looked forward to seeing his dad. Eli sat next to Stiles that Christmas morning as he opened his presents, Stiles’ being a big black wolf stuffed animal he saw downtown one day and it reminded him of Derek, so he thought it would be funny. Eli loved it, and he thanked Stiles before moving on to the next gift. Stiles looked at Derek for a second and he had a look on his face Stiles couldn’t quite figure out, but it still gave him that tickling sensation in his stomach and made his heart skip a beat.
Later that day Derek gave him a small wrapped box and Stiles thanked him, said he shouldn’t have. He opened it and stared at the Batman figurine inside, the one Stiles couldn’t find for the love of him even after looking for months because he started a collection a couple of years ago and it somehow became a hobby. It was something so silly he probably mentioned in passing when he came over for Thanksgiving, when he was just venting about little things because it felt good to have someone listen. But Derek remembered it, he put thought into getting Stiles something he wanted so bad and that’s when it hit him, what it meant, and of the sudden everything just felt overwhelming, it was too much, and he couldn’t do this.
He went back to DC just after New Year’s and focused on work. He didn’t reply to Derek’s messages like he used to, and eventually Derek didn’t reach out anymore. Stiles tried to convince himself it was better this way, but sometimes he’d lay awake at night staring at his ceiling, thinking about green eyes and wondering where he’d be if he just let himself feel.
[…]
Nothing prepared him to finding Derek in his dad’s kitchen first thing in the morning a week later. He looked beaten, like he’s been to hell and back, skinnier than Stiles ever imagined he could be and dark circles under his eyes. Eli was next to him, eyes puffy and red, and Stiles realized this was the first time he’s actually taken a good look at Eli, how big he’s gotten and how much he looked like Derek at his age.
The sheriff tried to hold up his emotions and failed miserably, hugging Derek harder than he ever did because it didn’t matter how close they got over the past 15 years, how he considered Derek like a son but never said so, because he was sure Derek knew, he never let his emotions come through like that and he couldn’t do so over the past two months since Derek died because he needed to be strong, if not for himself than for Eli and Stiles.
Derek’s eyes met Stiles for a second before pulling him into a crushing embrace, and Stiles felt like he could breath for the first time since that 4am call, because this was real, and Derek was real and Stiles was never going to let anything happen to him again.
“I woke up in Brazil,” Derek told him later once Noah convinced Eli to leave the room and give them some space, even though Eli was scared that if he took his eyes off his dad for even a second he’d be gone again. “I mean, I didn’t know where I was at first, the woods look similar but I knew it couldn’t be Beacon Hills because their Nemeton is still there, it’s never been cut down. I think its magic is stronger than ours. A local pack found me, they were sceptical and didn’t speak much English and I never learned any Portuguese whilst living in South America, just Spanish, so communication was hard but eventually I convinced them I wasn’t any harm and just needed help getting back to the US.”
“The part where your biggest struggle was to make new friends is the one that makes the most sense so far.”
Derek’s mouth curled into a soft smile, but yeah, it sounded about right.
“Crossing borders is not that easy when don’t have any documents.”
“Do they not have phones in Brazil?”
“I—,” Derek took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure this was real. I wasn’t sure I wasn’t just trapped somewhere new, or that I’d just go back there. I needed to make sure this was happening. I got back last night and I wanted to come see you but I had to see Eli first, I had to make sure he was okay—“
Derek stopped talking, he didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Stiles offered. “That you’d lose your alpha spark again to come back, that you don’t get to keep it.”
“My alpha spark—,” Derek looked at him in disbelief. “Stiles, you brought me back home, to my son, to—,” to you, he wanted to say, but if felt like he couldn’t just yet. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for this.”
And Stiles believes him.
[…]
So for now, Stiles stays. He’s not sure for how long, because he spent too many years running away, the fear of something else bad happening always in the back of his mind, but that fear was now replaced with the one of losing everything if he left again. Things slowly went back to normal, or whatever the new normal was. He breaks the lease from his apartment in DC and ends up getting a place downtown. He started working a few cases from home and spending time with his dad. He cooked dinner most nights and made sure they were healthy. He drove down to Los Angeles one weekend and stayed with Scott and Allison, and they talked about making this a recurring thing, and how they’d come to visit as well, maybe even travel to Japan together one day and visit Liam. Stiles would agree because yes, he’d like that very much. He missed this, he missed his pack. He came back to his apartment that day feeling a bit lighter but he still didn’t unpack, the boxes of his things from DC a mess in his living room that he kept telling himself there was no rush to sort out.
He texted Lydia and checked up on her, and she replied every time. He didn’t ignore Malia when he saw her walking down the street with Parrish, and she’d wave back a bit awkwardly but it still made Stiles smile because they looked happy. He did however ignore Peter most of the times he saw him around the Hale auto repair shop, but that was easy enough because it’s not like Peter was interested in being friends with anyone, he’ll always be off doing his own thing, whatever that was these days.
Stiles bonded with Eli again, he felt like he was finally allowed to, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it before, he could never look Eli in the eye if he couldn’t bring Derek back to him, to them.
Derek and Eli would join the Stilinski’s for dinner a few times a week, and Stiles laughed at the stories Eli told him, about his mischievousness and every time he stole the Jeep and how crazy it drove Derek, and how glad he was he no longer had to give it back even if he still had to wait a few months to be able to drive it legally. Stiles saw some of himself in Eli, and that felt funny to him, how Derek found himself parent to a teenager who was just like the one who would drive him crazy 15 years earlier.
The sheriff would sit in the living room with Eli picking a board game whilst Stiles helps Derek with the dishes, and there’s been so many times where they found themselves alone and they’d talk about anything but the elephant in the room. They’d get to know each other again but they wouldn’t talk about where they stand, how to move forward. It still felt so fragile, until one night when Derek shows up at Stiles’ door when it was late and the sight of him made his heart pound in his chest.
“I would never ask for you to stay,” Derek starts. “Not because I don’t want you to, but because I understand why you left and never came back. But still, I—,” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t care where you are, Stiles, as long as you’ll have me with you.”
Stiles kisses him. It’s warm and soft, and done too quick, but he doesn’t move away once they part, holding Derek’s face in between his hands.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he guarantees, because he would never let this go and he knows it now.
Derek helps him unpack the next day.