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When Derek wakes up in an unfamiliar room in a hauntingly familiar town, his first instinct is to find Stiles.
That’s always his first instinct, no matter the problem, because Stiles is there for him in any universe.
When he lost Dylan’s scent in the woods behind the house and he couldn’t hear over the panicked beating of his own heart to listen for his son, he went to Stiles. The time he woke up in a post-apocalyptic world where supernatural creatures were tearing people apart in the streets, it was Stiles who found him.
No matter how bad it seems, Derek knows that Stiles will be there, will be waiting, and he will fix it. Because that’s just what family does.
The problem this time is Derek doesn’t even know where to start. He’s in a different universe, that much is obvious as soon as he wakes up, but he has no clue where he is aside from the distinct buzz on his skin that feels like Beacon Hills.
In his own world, it had been years since they’d returned. Beacon Hills was a distant memory, nearly forgotten in the passing years. Now, he recalls it with such distinction, such ferocity, that it makes him nauseas.
There are trees everywhere, a telltale sign; He’s in the preserve. The little house is abandoned, some windows boarded up while others still have shards of broken glass hanging on. There’s a red door that looks like it hasn’t opened in ages. He listens carefully, closely, and hears nothing at all but the surrounding nature. Not a breath out of place. Derek figures he won’t find any answers here, so he prepares himself, takes one last look around at his family home, and starts walking.
Stiles screwed up a lot in an attempt to control his Spark.
After the nogitsune possessed, used, and nearly destroyed Stiles’ body, they discovered it left traces of power behind. That power reacted with Stiles’ natural Spark and ignited a flame inside him, filling him with more power than either of them imagined.
At first, Stiles rejected the power. He felt dirty at the mere thought of it running through his veins. But the more he tried to suppress the Spark, the more it built up– the more powerful he became. Like a magical ticking time bomb.
It was with Derek’s encouragement that Stiles started practicing magic, using it in small increments. In the beginning, it was simple stuff; lighting a candle with his breath, turning on the television, melting the snow on his windshield. Things that could be done without magic, with only the magic of modern technology, but it was enough to give Stiles release from the pent-up power inside him.
As he got better with the small things, Stiles started pushing his boundaries. He put up wards around the house in place of an alarm system. He made a special healing pacifier for Janie when teething got so bad she would just cry for hours on end. Stiles realized he was good at magic, he had so much untapped potential…
But he also messed up a lot, and Derek usually got the brunt of those mistakes. Like the time Stiles accidentally cursed Derek to pop a boner every time someone in their vicinity sneezed, or when a spell backfired so badly Derek wound up stuck in full-wolf form for nearly two weeks, unable to shift.
And of course, the one curse Stiles has yet to find a way to break; Every time Derek steps in a puddle, he falls into an alternate universe.
Sure, in theory, it’s an avoidable thing; Just don’t step in any puddles and Derek won’t be transported into a parallel dimension. But things are never that simple, because curses are curses for a reason, and puddles sometimes appear out of nowhere. Like the bedroom floor in the middle of the night and the cracks of the sidewalk on a sunny summer day.
But, after ten years of living with Stiles, Derek has gotten used to it. He’ll take the universe jumping and the awkward boners and any other curse Stiles manages to accidentally hit him with, because Derek loves him. In any universe.
No one pays any attention to Derek. It’s almost like he’s a ghost, gliding through the streets without so much as a glance from any given passerby. And then he sees a familiar face, one he hasn’t seen in over ten years, since the night she died. Derek stops dead in his tracks.
“Allison?”
The woman looks up. She’s older now than when he remembers, but her expressive eyes are the same. She smiles softly, wary but kind. “Do I know you?”
“Hopefully,” Derek grumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clears his throat. “I’m actually looking for Stiles. You’re a friend of Stiles, right?”
Allison’s smile tightens. Her gaze sharpens. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. I can show you where he is.”
Derek sees it coming as he falls into step behind her, even as she rounds the corner into a vacant alleyway. He knows before she even moves what’s going to happen. That’s why he doesn’t fight when she spins around and throws Derek face-first against the wall. His right arm gets twisted and pinned against his back, hard enough to make him wince against the brick. Allison’s voice is low when she speaks directly into his ear. “Who the hell are you?”
“Derek.” This wouldn’t be the first world where no one knows who he is, so he says, “My name is Derek Hale.”
“Bullshit,” Allison snarls. Her grip tightens and Derek fears something might break. “Derek Hale died ten years ago. Tell me who you are.”
Derek flinches again, and this time it has nothing to do with the way his arm is twisted. “My wallet,” he says. “My wallet is in my back pocket, okay? It has my license. My name. Look at it.”
Allison snorts. “You stole his face. I’m sure making a fake ID was easy compared to that.” She twists his arm again, a nonverbal threat he knows she could easily deliver. “Now tell me the truth. Who the hell are you?”
“Allison, it’s me!” Derek grits through his teeth. He can fight back at any time. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but if she keeps pulling his arm like that she’s gonna snap the bone. “Listen, I don’t want to fight you. Please. I just need to find Stiles.”
Derek can feel the brick scratching at his face, the grainy bits digging into his cheek as she presses harder against his back.
“Look, okay! I’m from another universe!” Derek cringes against his own words. They sound fake even to him, no matter how many times he’s said the same thing to other variations of himself. The result was usually the same– “You don’t believe me, and I probably wouldn’t believe me either, but I’m asking you to trust me. You said I’ve been dead in this world for ten years? Well, in my world, so have you. As you can imagine, this is pretty weird for me, too.”
Allison hesitates, her grip loosening marginally. “I’m listening.”
“In my world, when Stiles was possessed by the nogitsune--” Derek pauses. “Wait, was he possessed in this world? Are werewolves still a thing here?” It wouldn’t be the first universe to exist without werewolves, but the unmagical worlds were the absolute worst. On those occasions, the Stiles from his world had to find a way to get him back and it always took longer, simply watching and waiting.
Suddenly, Allison’s hold on him is gone. Derek stretches his arm out, cautiously turning around. Allison is staring at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted. Shocked. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Derek nods solemnly.
“But how?” Allison looks like she’s fighting with herself. Like some part of her wanted to deny what was clearly in front of her, and another part already believed it. “You’re dead.”
Derek sighs. “Long story short; I’m cursed. Stepping into a puddle sends me flying into different universes. This is my eleventh.”
Allison’s eyes widen. “You’ve been to eleven different universes?”
“Not including my own.”
Stiles is probably freaking out right about now. Derek had said he’d be back in an hour, and there’s no way to tell how long he’s actually been gone from his world. All he knows is that he needs to get back.
“I know it’s a lot to believe, and trust me it’s a lot to explain, but I need your help. I need to find Stiles. He’s the only one who can help me go back.”
Shaking her head sadly, Allison frowns. “Derek, even if I could take you to him, there’s no way he would believe you.”
“Because I’m dead in this world.”
Allison looks down. “When he was possessed by the nogitsune, he killed you.”
Derek has a sick feeling in his stomach all of a sudden. If he died here instead of Allison, how did this world play out? The possibilities, as Derek had long ago realized, were literally endless. If he hadn’t been there to hold Stiles together, had he simply fallen apart?
“Allison,” Derek says, his voice steady but emotionless. “Where is Stiles?”
She bites her lip, looking reluctant and sad when she finally says, “He went crazy after you died. His dad had him admitted to Eichen House.”
When Allison died, Scott pushed Stiles away. He blamed his best friend for the death of his first love. And, like good little betas, the rest of the pack followed. Lydia was lost in despair, turning to Scott for comfort. Isaac, having felt deprived of his newfound feelings for Allison, left the pack and the country completely. Kira felt betrayed and followed Isaac’s lead. The pack as they knew it fell apart. The friends, as they’d once been, drifted away.
In the midst of it all, Derek became the only constant presence. The only one who stayed. He was the only person who told Stiles it wasn’t his fault, who understood when no one else did.
Stiles had nightmares. He would wake up screaming and his dad didn’t know what to do. That was when Derek really came into the picture; he knew all about post traumatic night terrors and coping with the self loathing and the overwhelming weight of guilt Stiles was holding. He was surprised the first time the Sheriff called him, practically begging Derek to help because Stiles was hyperventilating and he didn’t know what to do. Derek did. He rushed over in the middle of the night and he held Stiles, breathing with him, until he fell back into a restless sleep.
After that, it kind of became a pattern. Derek would sleep on the couch, well within hearing range in case something happened in the middle of the night. It wasn’t until after Stiles started sleep-walking that Derek moved into his bedroom. Shockingly enough, it was the Sheriff’s idea.
“You need to be closer,” John had told Derek. “I don’t want him to just wander off in the middle of the night. What if he breaks his neck trying to sleepwalk down the stairs?”
The first few nights, Derek slept on the floor. But when Stiles tripped over him on his way to the bathroom one morning, they reasoned that they were both mature adults who could handle sharing a bed in a strictly platonic sense.
It was only a week after that when they decided Stiles’ twin-sized bed was far too small for two grown men and it was only the next logical step that Stiles should start sleeping at Derek’s place.
It was a temporary solution, just until the nightmares and sleepwalking stopped.
The night of Stiles’ high school graduation, the two shared their first kiss, as well as an unspoken decision that Stiles’ living arrangements would become permanent. They moved the rest of his belongings in a few weeks later.
Months passed and the nightmares started to subside. The sleepwalking did not. In fact, it got worse. One night, Derek watched as Stiles unconsciously opened the loft door and left. Instead of leading him back to bed like usual, Derek followed him. Maybe if he saw where Stiles was trying to go, he would get a better idea of how to help him.
But then Stiles led him to the Nemeton. Derek wanted to wake him up, wanted to drag him back to the loft where he’d be safe, wanted to scream. Instead, he observed.
Stiles sat on the tree stump, crossed his legs, and started to glow.
Derek watched, helpless and awed, as the Nemeton fed into Stiles’ power and ignited his Spark.
“This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Liam whispers. Derek doesn’t recognize him, but he can smell his wolf. One of Scott’s new betas. Another replacement.
In this world, Scott’s pack didn’t fall apart. It lost an important member when they locked Stiles up in that godforsaken crazy house, but unlike in Derek’s world, they bonded together. They overcame the loss of their Derek and they formed a new pack stronger than ever.
Allison hushes him from where she watches around the corner.
Liam doesn’t listen. “We’re literally trying to break someone out of a mental hospital,” he reminds them. In case somehow they had forgotten. “Because we believe this guy is from a different universe? This is definitely the stupidest thing we’ve done.”
Allison turns to glare at the younger beta. “The stupidest thing Scott has ever done was bite you. Now shut the hell up before you get us all caught.”
Derek hides a smile. Sometimes it was easy to remember how much he misses her. They’d never been close, especially not since his uncle killed her aunt, and his aunt murdered his entire family– that would put a damper on anyone’s relationship– but he knows that Allison died before her time. He wishes he could have seen this in his world, watched her grow into a strong woman she clearly is today. But she never got the chance. He’s glad that she’s alive and happy in at least one universe.
Their plan to break Stiles out of Eichen House is really less of a plan, and more of an idea. They’d gotten past the front guards and onto the second floor, but nobody knew what to do next. The right wing, where Stiles was being kept, was warded against supernatural creatures. The werewolves couldn’t get in.
Which left Allison and Lydia to enact the actual prison break. Derek only had to trust that they could do it.
When Scott lifts a keycard off a guard and passes it to Allison, he watches as the girls disappear around the corner. Then he leans back against the wall and waits.
Thirty minutes pass before he hears footsteps. He tenses, listening closely, and can see Scott and Liam do the same. Three people, three heartbeats, but he’s not sure if they’re guards or not and there’s really no way to tell until too late. When Scott sighs, looking relieved, Derek allows himself to breathe. He can smell Stiles, a scent that seems both familiar and distant at the same time. He remembers that scent, would recognize it anywhere. And yet, it hasn’t been the same in so many years. His Stiles doesn’t smell like just Stiles anymore, he smells like StilesandDerek , he smells like family and pack and magic. But this Stiles doesn’t smell like those things, it’s a scent that’s distinctly and only Stiles. It makes Derek’s chest ache.
They don’t have a chance to speak before rushing out of the hospital. They’ll have plenty of time to talk once they’ve made a clean break.
The first thing they do when they arrive back at Scott and Allison’s house (because Scott and Allison are apparently married in this universe. Go figure.) is get Stiles some clothes. Sweatpants and an old lacrosse shirt of Scott’s. And then they sit down and Stiles can’t stop staring. He looks sad, distant, and dazed as he watches Derek. When he finally speaks for the first time, he simply says, “I missed my meds.”
Scott sits next to Stiles, touching his arm gently. It sets Derek’s teeth on edge to see that casual gesture and he has to remind himself that this is not the same Scott from his universe, the same Scott who abandoned Stiles. This Scott is a friend. “Stiles, no,” he says carefully, “you don’t need them anymore.”
But Stiles is shaking his head. “I see Derek. I need my meds.”
“No, Stiles, you’re not hallucinating,” Allison interjects softly. “He’s here. Derek is real.”
“Derek died,” Stiles states matter-of-factly. “I killed him.”
It pains Derek to see Stiles acting in such a way, so relaxed and uncaring. Emotionless. Empty.
This is by far the worst universe Derek has been to.
“I told you this was a stupid idea,” Liam says from the corner of the room.
Derek cuts him with a glare. “Shut up,” he snaps, “or I will rip your fucking throat out.”
A small laugh, barely just an exhale of breath, escapes Stiles. A tiny smile settles on his lips. “You even sound like Derek.”
Derek scoots closer to Stiles, reaching out to take his hands. Stiles tries futilely to pull out of reach, but Derek holds tight. “I am real,” He says. “Stiles, please, you’re the only one who can help me. I don’t belong here. I’m not from your world.”
Stiles stares at him blankly. He might be too drugged up to even understand what Derek is saying, but dammit he is going to try. He squeezes Stiles’ hands. “I’m from a different universe, Stiles. I’m stuck here and I need to go home. You have magic, I know you can feel it in you. You just need to take it.”
“I have dreams about you,” Stiles says. His words are soft, almost mumbled, but his eyes are focused. Sharp.
“This is pointless,” Scott sighs. He looks tired. “I’ll believe that you’re from a different universe or whatever, but Stiles can’t help you. He doesn’t have magic.”
“Yes, he does,” Derek says. Stiles is watching their hands, held together in his lap. Derek turns to Scott. “After the nogitsune, after your Derek died, what happened?”
Scott shrugs helplessly. “Stiles had nightmares. He would sleepwalk. I tried to watch over him, but when I woke him up he would lash out. He got violent. He would kick and scream and it got too much to handle. So his dad took him to professionals. He’s been in Eichen House ever since.”
Derek looks back to Stiles. “Stiles, you said you had dreams about me. Will you tell me about them?”
“There’s snow,” he says. “You made snow angels. And there’s a pink dress, with bows in the front. A little girl. She has my eyes. But a boy, who looks like you.”
Allison is shaking her head sadly. “He’s not making any sense.”
But Derek is beaming. “Yes, he is. Stiles, look at me. Those aren’t just dreams. Those are memories. Memories from my world, from my Stiles.”
Stiles continues to stare at him. So Derek reaches below the collar of his shirt, pulling free the ring that always hangs from a chain around his neck. He holds the ring out for Stiles to see. “Does this look familiar?”
Stiles’ eyebrows crease. “That was my mom’s.”
Scott reaches forward in an attempt to grab the ring, but Derek pulls it away. “How did you get that?” Scott demands.
“You gave it to me, Stiles.” Derek ignores Scott, focusing on the man in front of him instead. “You didn’t want to have it resized, so you made me wear it as a necklace instead. You said something cheesy about always having you close to my heart. I made snow angels with you when we moved to New York because it was the first time you’d ever seen snow. You stayed out in the cold so long you ended up with pneumonia. And those kids? They’re real. Janie wore that pink dress the day you married me.” Derek grabs his hands again, forcing Stiles to look into his eyes. “All of that is real. It’s in my world. And I need to go back to them, to my Stiles. Can you help me?”
Stiles’ lower lip trembles. “They said I was crazy.”
Derek shakes his head. “You’re not crazy. You have magic in you. In my world, you control it. It’s how we had two kids together.”
Stiles’ eyes widen at the implication. “The other me had kids?”
“Just one, actually,” Derek smiles. “You said it was only fair if I got the full experience, too.”
Stiles chuckles. “I’m not crazy.”
“This all sounds crazy,” Liam speaks up. “I mean, you’re suggesting that you physically had a child?”
Derek lifts up his shirt to show the scar that stretches down the middle of his stomach, past his belly button, disappearing beneath his jeans. “After Dylan was born, we decided any more kids we had would be adopted.”
Stiles reaches forward, his fingers lightly tracing over the scar. It sends a spark up Derek’s spine. When he looks up, there are fresh tears in his eyes. “In another universe, you’re happy. We’re happy. And in this world, I killed you.”
Derek rests his palm on Stiles’ cheek, catching some of the tears that have started to fall. “I don’t blame you, Stiles. I will never ever blame you for what the nogitsune did. I love you. In any universe, in any world, I will always love you.”
Stiles lurches forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s neck, holding onto him for dear life. Derek realizes with a pain that this is the first hug that Stiles has had in ten years. So Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, holding him just as close, and makes sure it’s the best damn hug he’s ever had.
The first time he traveled through universes, Derek woke up staring at himself. Both versions were equally freaked out, uncertain as to what was going on and how to fix it, but when Stiles wandered into the room and saw the double Dereks, he simply cursed and said, “I knew that was the wrong ingredient.”
It turned out that the first universe he visited was most like his own. The only difference that Derek found, in his short stay there, was when Stiles mentioned his mom. Alive. Healthy. Happy. And widowed.
In that universe, Scott was still a werewolf. Stiles had still been possessed. He’d still killed Allison. And Derek had still been there to help him. So, much like his own Stiles, this alternate version of Stiles screwed up while attempting to manage his Spark. But, again much like his own Stiles, this Stiles knew his way around magic pretty well and sent him back to his own universe easily enough.
Not all the universes he visited were the same. In some worlds, Derek’s family was alive. Stiles was happily married to a woman named Caitlin in another. No matter what universe he visited, Derek would return to his own life feeling relieved and sad. It really was a curse; He was watching in real time all the various ways their lives could have turned out. Some were better, others were worse. But in the end, Derek knew that none of those other worlds belonged to him. The good or the bad. He couldn’t fix the shitty universes and he couldn’t bring back with him the happy ones. All he had was his own life, the one he’d built with his own Stiles. And through all the universes he’d seen, he would choose his own every time.
The Nemeton was cold to the touch, not that Derek wanted to get that close to the old tree. To Derek’s left, Stiles fidgeted. Whether it was because of the chilly night air, or being so close to the tree again, Derek didn’t know. This was the first time Stiles had been back to the Nemeton since the nogitsune left him. All the years of calling to Stiles, beckoning to recapture his magic, and Stiles was finally here.
“So, I just… touch it?” Stiles frowns at Derek.
Derek nods. “It needs contact to transfer the power. To bring out your magic.”
Scott looks between the two of them, his expression one of discontent. “I don’t like this,” he states. “What if it hurts him?”
“It won’t,” Derek assures them. “He can handle it. It’s his power. He just has to learn to control it. Otherwise, it will control him.”
“But you’re leaving,” Stiles says sadly. “Who’s going to help me learn?”
“I have faith that you’ll figure it out,” Derek smiles. “Besides, you’re not alone. You have a pack to look after you here.”
Stiles wraps himself around Derek once more, a final lingering hug. “I never got to tell my Derek that I loved him.”
“Trust me,” Derek says, placing a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “He already knew.”
Stiles is sniffling, holding back tears when he pulls away. “Alright,” he shakes out his hands. “Let’s get this over with.”
Derek watches as Stiles steps forward. He reaches toward the tree with outstretched fingers. A spark ignites in his touch when his skin makes contact with the bark. Stiles jerks back in surprise, then lays his hand flat on the stump. His eyes close.
“He’s glowing,” Liam says dumbly. But he’s right; There’s a cloud of yellow light surrounding Stiles. Scott looks like he wants to grab Stiles and yank him away, but Allison gently touches his shoulder, softly but sternly holding him back.
It takes almost no time at all and then Stiles is stumbling back, gasping, and the glowing disappears. The woods are dark again, save for the sparks flicking on Stiles’ fingertips. Stiles looks down at his hands. “I can feel it,” he wonders. “It feels like…” He pauses thinking of the words.
“Like a magical ticking time bomb,” Derek supplies with a smile.
Stiles looks up with wide eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he says, a twinge of panic forming in his voice. “How do I send you back?”
Derek shrugs. “Let the magic tell you. Listen to it.”
Stiles closes his eyes again. He breathes slowly, evenly, lets the power run through him like blood. And Derek can feel it, feel the world being tugged away from him as he falls into the familiar black hole. Back into his own universe.
When he wakes up, Derek’s first instinct is to find Stiles. He moves through the familiar house, through the bedroom and hallway, down the stairs, following the sound of three separate heartbeats.
In the kitchen, Janie sits at the table coloring a picture. Next to her, Dylan is eating Cheerios. And across from them, Stiles has a map stretched out in front of him, one of Derek’s ties held tightly in his hand. He’s mumbling to himself as the tie sways over the map. “Come on, Derek. Where are you?”
Janie giggles. “You’re silly, Daddy. He’s right there!”
Dylan’s not sure what his sister is laughing about, but he giggles, too.
Stiles spins around, abandoning the tie, and lurches to his feet. Derek catches Stiles just as the other man crashes against his chest, wrapping him in a warm hug. “I missed you so much.”
Derek frowns. “How long was I gone?”
“Like sixteen hours,” Stiles says. “Did you fall into another puddle?”
Derek remembers the other Stiles, how broken he’d been, and hugs Stiles tighter. He thanks whatever gods are out there that he has his Stiles right here, safe. Their lives aren’t perfect, but they’re together. “I love you,” Derek says, but he doesn’t wait for a response before crashing his lips against Stiles’. He’s pretty sure he knows what Stiles was going to say anyway, because no matter what universe or world, he knows that Stiles loves him, too.