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It’s late, and Cora’s finally asleep, but Derek can’t imagine ever wanting to sleep again. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the piercing pain of the metal pipe … so he doesn’t close them. The memory of the pain’s not the worst thing about tonight, though, not by a long shot.
He’d never been meant to be an alpha. Cora’s right, he’s done an awful job. But the worst part is … he thought he’d learned from the summer’s tragedies. He’d looked so hard for Boyd and Erica, never stopping the search. He’d made his peace with Scott, even with Peter. He’d finally, finally left behind the charred and crumbling ruins of his family home and got a decent place to live. Of course, Isaac had been a large part of that reason. The kid had needed somewhere safe to stay, and for once it seemed like Derek had actually done something right. Like he was maybe getting the hang of the alpha thing.
(In his mind he hears glass breaking against a wall, and feels like shit).
Isaac … Derek hopes he’s done the right thing. Hopes he’s with Scott in that safe little world he’s got. He is, right? Isaac’s never been shy about trusting Scott.
But the worst part is, Derek knows Isaac trusted him, too. The kid was ridiculously loyal, given his past. And stubborn … so stubborn. He didn’t have a chance against any of the alpha pack but that didn’t stop him. He’d never have left – and left well alone - if Derek had just asked him.
But he couldn’t stay here, and Derek didn’t know any other way to make him go. He’s better off with Scott.
(He hears the glass break again).
Of course, he’d told Isaac it was because of Cora. He has no idea what he’s going to do with her, but she needs to go, too. She’s not safe here. With him.
Is she even one of his betas? She’s clearly a beta wolf, and part of his family – his only family, other than Peter – but she doesn’t feel like part of his pack.
All at once he realizes: it’s because she doesn’t trust him. And why should she? Look at the rest of the pack. Erica, dead. Boyd, always distant, and grieving for her, blaming him. Peter, unstable and treacherous. Isaac, driven away.
(He hears the glass break once more).
All at once, it’s too much, and he runs for the woods. The storm is dying off.
**********
He’d hoped his mind would clear out here, but it’s not working. Deucalion’s threats still lie heavily at the back of his mind. He won’t kill his pack. He won’t.
But the only way to do that is to make sure there isn’t a pack to kill. He doesn’t think it’ll be too hard to push Boyd away, not any more. But how can he force Cora to leave, when all he wants to do is protect her?
Perhaps it’s the wind, blowing in a different direction, or maybe it’s just that he’s distracted, dangerously so. But he doesn’t realize he’s not alone until the other person is dangerously close. Derek groans inwardly as he recognizes the scent.
Because peering into every clump of greenery, flashlight wedged between his teeth to leave both hands free, is Stiles. Of course. It’s as though he actively seeks out the most dangerous place he can. Alphas everywhere, who knows what else, and Stiles Stilinkski, son of the town Sheriff, is alone in the woods in the middle of the night.
Of course.
He hasn’t noticed Derek – even distracted he moves quietly, it’s instinct by now – and it occurs to him to just turn around and leave. He just doesn’t have the strength for one of Stiles’ tirades right now.
But he shouldn’t be out here alone. Another day he might have crept up and given him a fright – all in the name of teaching him a lesson, of course, nothing to do with personal enjoyment – but his heart’s not in it tonight, so as he moves towards Stiles he deliberately makes his footsteps as loud as possible.
When Stiles hears him, he yelps like a scalded cat, jumping about three feet, the flashlight flying even higher before landing with a thump in the undergrowth. There’s a protacted rustle of leaves as Stiles scrambles to retrieve it.
Derek rolls his eyes, and waits.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Stiles demands indignantly, before he’s even pulled himself fully upright. ‘Are you stalking me? Again?’
‘Right. Because I’ve got nothing better to do than follow you around?’ The retort is out of his mouth before he’s even thought about it. He doesn’t want any of this tonight, can’t handle it, but Stiles just pushes his buttons, and always has.
It doesn’t matter; he’s ending this now, before it gets started. ‘You shouldn’t be here, Stiles. It’s not safe. Go home. Now.’ He makes his voice as firm, as compelling, as he possibly can.
And as usual, Stiles takes not the slightest bit of notice. ‘Oh, yeah, as opposed to the haven of safety and security Beacon Hills usually is?’
Derek grits his teeth, wishing hard that he could just walk away. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Mistletoe,’ Stiles replies, looking shifty.
Derek can’t help himself; he smirks, eyebrows raised.
‘Not for that!’ Stiles yelps, fumbling the flashlight and turning around to rummage in the bushes again. And then he’s off, two hundred words a minute, something about druids and rituals and Derek’s head is already spinning. Perhaps another time he’d be able to make some sense of it all, but he really can’t handle it tonight.
‘Well, you won’t find any,’ he says firmly. ‘It’s deadly, especially to wolves. My family destroyed every plant for ten miles around.’
Stiles turns to face him, and now it’s his turn to blink in disbelief, giving a slight shake of the head. ‘And it never occurred to them to do the same with the wolfsbane?’
Derek’s patience is running out now. ‘You need to get out of here. I don’t have time to babysit you tonight. I’ve got fanatic, homicidal alphas to deal with, a traumatized little sister …’
He hadn’t realized that the whole time he’d been talking, he’d been advanced on Stiles, as though he half intended to grab him by the shirt and fling him into the nearest tree.
Instead he stops himself; he hasn’t done anything like that for a while. But Stiles recognized it easily enough, read the intimidating intent in his movements.
And, being Stiles, he fought right back.
‘Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve got a serial killer on my hands, that no-one seems to have the slightest clue how to figure out, let alone actually catch, so maybe I don’t have time for you right now!’
He’s all up in Derek’s face, as usual, utterly unintimidated. Derek grits his teeth for a moment, then feels all the anger go out of him. Stiles appears to recognize this, and backs away, but his eyes don’t leave Derek’s.
There have been moments like this before; Derek doesn’t understand them at all. He looks at Stiles and wonders if he should just tell him everything, like there’s something smart and strong and capable under the exterior of a jabbering, hyperactive teenager with no respect for danger.
He can’t explain it. There’s just … something, in his eyes.
This is why he didn’t hurl him against the tree, didn’t even want to. Things were different now; they’d worked together over the summer, made some progress. It felt like it was working, for a while. But the disaster that has been today has Derek almost right back to square one; even he can see that.
Stiles speaks first, his voice much softer now. ‘So, uh, how’s Cora doing?’
Derek breathes out slowly; it’s not quite a sigh. ‘I don’t know. She’s not talking.’
‘At all?’ Stiles looks confused. And … of course he’d say that. Talking comes as naturally as breathing; he never shuts up.
‘Not much. I think she’s in shock. She’ll speak, but ask her about the fire or the alpha pack and she just shuts down.’
Stiles shuffles uncomfortably. ‘That’s understandable, though, right?’
Silently, Derek nods. It’s entirely understandable, and yet … there should be more to it than this. She’s his sister. His little sister, as young as these other members of his pack. Even if he can’t reach them, can’t protect them, he should be able to take care of her, and she won’t let him.
Stiles looks sympathetic, in a way he never does when there are other people around. ‘Look, man, maybe she just needs some time, you know?’
He nods again, aware that it makes sense, but also painfully aware that time may be the one thing they don’t have. ‘You really should go home,’ he says softly. ‘You won’t find what you’re looking for, and you’re putting yourself in danger.’
Eventually, Stiles nods, looking away, as if he doesn’t really want to go.
Then he moves. To get back to the road, he has to walk past Derek, back down the hill. As he passes, his fingers brush against Derek’s, for a moment. Derek turns sharply, startled, but Stiles doesn’t turn back.
At least, until he’s almost out of sight. At the last minute he looks back, meeting Derek’s eyes. It’s an unmistakeable gesture of solidarity, of understanding, and Derek can’t help but nod, returning it.
**********
It won’t last, he knows. Any minute now, Stiles will find out what happened with Isaac, and he’ll be understandably furious.
But that’s good. Derek needs him to go, to hate him if necessary. Needs them all to. It’s the only way they’ll be safe.
But he has the feeling – the strong feeling – that Stiles will be harder to push away than Isaac or Boyd, even Cora.
He doesn’t understand it. There’s just something about him.