Chapter Text
Christmas Eve
Derek hated this song, but Laura used to love it.
“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…”
He could see her in his memory, dancing around the kitchen in their childhood home, ponytail bobbing, while he ate cereal at the counter, cringing at her cracking voice. She was never bothered by his little brother antics though. She used to just shoot him a good natured eye roll, grab his hand and tug him to his feet, force him to dance with her until he was laughing and singing too.
Stiles also loved this song. Of fucking course he did. When Derek had caught him humming it to himself last year at the holiday pack party, it had made his heart do a little backflip in his chest, past and present colliding.
That had been before things fell completely apart.
It was playing over the speakers now, staticky and faraway in the checkout line at the grocery store. Derek thought of Laura, then of Stiles, then pushed all the thoughts away and hugged his sad little rotisserie chicken to his chest.
It was nearly eight on Christmas Eve, so the store was empty aside from a cheery teenager ringing him up and an older man browsing the wine options.
“You got in just in time,” the girl told him with a bright smile. “We’re just about to close up. Have any plans for tonight?”
Derek glared at her in lieu of an answer. She frowned and went quiet, silently bagging his depressing dinner. As he turned away, she couldn’t help but call out, “Merry Christmas!”
Derek ducked his head and pushed out into the night, heading home, breath visible in the cold air.
As Derek turned onto his block, he saw that there was a figure standing in front of the entrance to his building— someone hunched against the wind, blowing hot breath into their palms and rubbing warmth into their fingers. Derek could smell the cinnamon clove scent of Stiles before he could make out his messy hair, his upturned nose, the freckles on his face.
He met those warm amber eyes with his own hazel ones. It had been months since Stiles had been home from college, and yet it felt like nothing had changed at all. Still the same mess between them.
“Der!” Stiles startled as he approached. “Hey, big guy! Merry Christmas!”
Derek looked away from him and said nothing, unlocking the door to his building. Stiles followed closely behind as if he’d been invited inside.
“I tried to call, but you weren’t picking up. I thought I’d just come fetch you for the party.”
Derek set his bag down on the counter. Stiles grinned at it.
“Dude, is that what you were going to have for dinner?” He poked at the bag.
Derek whirled around on him, crowding him back up against the wall. Stiles looked at Derek’s mouth, way too calm for a human being cornered by a werewolf. He actually looked like he enjoyed it, like he’d missed it.
“I didn’t pick up on purpose,” Derek said firmly. “I’m not going to the party.” With that, he pulled away and returned to his groceries.
“What?” Stiles followed. “Why not?”
Because holidays were always difficult without his family, because Stiles being back made everything too complicated, because they’d had a giant fight last year at this same party and it had never been resolved or even mentioned again.
He let out a heavy sigh, too tired and socially awkward to explain any of it. “Just leave me alone, Stiles.”
“Der…”
Derek finally met his eyes again, his own narrowed in an unfriendly expression. “Go. Away. I don’t want you here.”
Stiles’s shoulders slumped. Derek swallowed down his regret as he watched Stiles finally leave, muttering under his breath as he did so.
Derek reminded himself that it was for the best, then sat down at the counter to eat his lonely dinner for one.
#
Later that night, Derek lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered for a second what the pack was up to, then quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind too. Tonight was a night for avoidance. It didn’t matter what they were up to or how their party was going. He wasn’t there.
The clock on the wall chimed midnight. He closed his eyes and slowly began to drift off…
A voice startled him awake. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my little ex-boyfriend,” the voice said.
Derek jumped out of bed and stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall.
Kate fucking Argent stood the doorway to his bedroom, her body wrapped in chains. She was incorporeal, her boots levitating an inch off the ground.
“This is impossible,” he whispered.
“Surprisingly not,” Kate said. “Turns out werewolves aren’t the only magical thing in this world. Go figure.”
She came closer and he instinctively whined in fear, cornered, trapped back against the wall.
“You see these?” She lifted the chains encircling her arm with a soft grunt, like it took a lot of effort. “These are the chains I forged in life— the people I hurt, the werewolves I killed…maybe this part represents the horrible things I did to you, I don’t know.” She let the chains drop, draped over her arm again, weighing her down. “I’m cursed to wear these for eternity. My punishment for a life badly lived.”
Derek stared at her, still pressed back against the wall, unmoving. The Kate he’d known in life was more fiery than this mellow spirit; this ghost was like a candle whose flame had been extinguished.
“Why would you be sent to me?” Derek asked and, much to his embarrassment, his voice shook. Kate, or this ghostly woman who used to be Kate, still felt like the big bad wolf showing off her fangs, and it made him feel fifteen again to be confronted with her. “After everything you did? After killing my family?”
Kate sighed, and he watched in awe as she touched down on the hardwood floor, feet planted flat, no longer floating. “Because I did this to you,” she explained, gesturing at him. “You’re on your own path to a lonely afterlife, and it’s my fault. I made it so you can’t trust anything, can’t open yourself up to anyone…”
She took a step closer towards him, and he flinched back, hands trembling.
“Derek,” Kate said, her voice soft and apologetic, nothing at all like the memories of her harsh, sarcastic, condescending voice that came back so crystal clear when he dared to unearth them. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, and I’ll have even longer. An eternity…and I deserve it for what I did to you. You were just a kid when I—”
Panic seized him. “SHUT UP!” he roared. His sudden intensity made Kate stumble backwards in surprise. He couldn’t hear this. He couldn’t think about this. Whatever Kate did to him was ancient history now. Having to hear her say it, her manicured nails prying the repressed memories from the boarded up bank vault in his mind, was too much. He couldn’t do this— not now, not ever. He couldn’t face what had happened to him.
“Derek—”
His eyes burned red as he flicked his claws out at his sides, his fangs lengthening. Finally, the horrible fear and uncertainty was replaced with the familiar protective anger. “Get out,” he hissed. “You’re not welcome here.”
His words had power. He could see her fading away.
“I’m going, I’m going,” she said quickly. Her voice was soft, swept away in the wind. “But, listen, you’re going to be visited by three spirits tonight. Heed their warnings.” She lifted her arms, her chains rattling. “Don’t end up like me.”
With that, she disappeared and left Derek standing there, wondering if she’d ever been there at all.