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It’s been nearly seven years since the fire. But that’s not nearly enough time to erase the smells of them. The smell of his family, alive and happy, and of the Hales that came before.
The house was built close to a hundred years ago, every Hale since was born here. Their smell is ingrained in the floors, in the walls, in every nook and cranny and no amount of fire or time will ever burn them out.
Not with Derek’s werewolf nose.
He eyes the symbol of the Alpha pack on the door warily. It just never seems to end and Derek is tired, exhausted, everything he’s tried to do to make things right has only made things worse.
Right now he wants nothing more than sleep, one good night of rest. But he hasn’t even slept on a bed since coming back to Beacon Hills, hasn’t had a restful night since the fire.
He steps inside; staring at the beat-up staircase and a particular scent from long ago fills his nostrils. Suddenly it’s like he is transported back in time, he can hear and see himself and Laura sliding down the rails in a race to reach the bottom as if it was happening right now. Both of them giggling joyously and their dad only shaking his head and ruffling Derek’s hair when he inevitably loses to Laura.
With one blink, the memory is gone and Derek shivers. It doesn’t matter that half the roof is gone and sunlight has warmed the house, or that his body naturally runs over a hundred degrees, he can never seem to get warm these days.
So much has changed since he was a kid.
The staircase used to be something to behold, the whole house was. Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors making up almost all of the first floor, three huge fireplaces, and half a dozen bedrooms upstairs, three of which had their own ensuite bathroom. The Hale house was one of the biggest and grandest in town.
Not anymore though.
Now it needs to be condemned. Almost all of the upstairs is gone, everything that remains of the house is charred and blackened, sooty and moldy, rotting.
This place used to be a home. Filled with so many sights and sounds. Arguments and laughter, bedtime stories with hugs and kisses, movie nights and cook outs. Eleven heartbeats, each with a different rhythm but all that spoke of the same things: trust and security, reassurance and love.
That’s all gone now.
Now, it’s empty.
Derek makes his way to what used to be the kitchen, a central point of almost every home and theirs was no different. He remembers how it used to look. An almost endless supply of fine oak cupboards and drawers, a spacious island that held an eight burner stove. Two built-in ovens near the ample stainless steel refrigerator.
It took a lot of food to feed them all.
Dinner time was pack time, they would all stop whatever they were doing and gather around the large kitchen table. He wasn’t sure what smell he loved coming home to the most, his grandma’s apple cobbler (the best in the county) cooling in the windowsill or Uncle Peter firing up the grill (he always knew just the right amount of time to cook the steak that had Derek’s mouth watering and his fangs elongating).
Now, there’s only rubble.
Derek scrubs a hand threw his hair, across his face, and sinks down a scorched wall, his aching body no longer able to hold him up. His nearly ripped apart arm and torn apart abdomen from meeting with one of the Alpha pack is already healed, but he hurts worse now than when the wounds were fresh.
There are some scars that even his werewolf abilities will never mend.
He brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. It was something he used to do as a child, when he was scared. Either by a nightmare or learning about what was out there, both supernatural and human.
About the people wanting him dead just because he was born different.
His mother would come then, whether by the change in his heartbeat or some Alpha instinct, Derek never knew, but she would always come. Take him in her arms and whisper how much she loved him and that everything would be all right. That as long as she was around, nothing bad would ever happen to her sweet boy.
Now, she’s gone.
All of them are gone.
Because of him.
Because he was stupid and careless, eighteen and starting out college. So happy to be out from under his parent’s thumbs and his pack’s prying eyes. The world had been filled with endless possibilities then. And all it had taken was one smile from her and he had fallen in love.
Derek snorts as he recalls Peter’s words from last week. The undeniable power of human love, his ass. It was loving a human that lead him here.
And what does he have to show for it?
Nothing besides the burned down house around him. Erica and Boyd left him, Isaac only stayed for Scott, Scott wants nothing to do with him, and Peter is probably just waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab Derek in the back.
There is no one he can trust. He has no family, no pack.
He is all alone.
He will always be all alone.