Tattoos & Triggers

by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal

Summary:

Stiles left Beacon Hills years ago. After seven years of nothing, the Hale-McCall Pack is asked to help another pack rescue two captives from a group of hunters not far from their territory.

What they find is Stiles.

Notes:

Enjoy!!!

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Chapter 1

Drip.Drip.Drip.Drip.

Derek gritted his teeth. That had to be one of the most annoying sounds in the world, dripping water. Although, it was probably to be expected in a place like this. Derek looked around the gloomy metal corridor with disdain. He still didn’t understand why they were here, why they were risking their pack to help another pack.

Scott said they needed alliances, needed to branch out so when the Mead pack came to them for help, Scott was eager to agree. Derek scowled. He hated the politics of dealing with other packs, but since he was the only other born wolf and Peter flat out refused to participate, that left it up to him. The decision resulted in long hours ensconced in his family’s vault, usually with Lydia or Danny who were researching other things, to brush up on pack hierarchy and law. Isaac said he was always extra grumpy on those days.

Scott’s desire to help is what led them to this godforsaken, abandoned, quite frankly disgusting, underground bunker. There were hunters holding two captives and apparently one of them was extremely important to the son of the Alpha that requested their help.

~~~*~~~

~three weeks ago~

The pack filed in, wary of being in another pack’s den, but Scott tried to make them as comfortable as possible. Alpha Mead brought his second, who happened to be his son, his enforcer, and a few other betas. Derek had explained to Scott that this was normal for negotiations and he shouldn’t view it as a threat, but Scott was still new to the concept of reaching out to other packs so it was obvious he was a bit flustered at having so many unknown wolves in the pack house.

Despite the tough appearance they put up, Derek could tell the pack was tired and beaten down. They weren’t a large pack, and only a few of them were present for the discussion. They seemed to huddle around their Alpha protectively.

Both packs arranged themselves around the massive dining room table that Lydia had forced Derek to buy, and they started talking, the Alpha explaining why they needed assistance.

“A group of hunters is holding two individuals captive about thirty miles from here, in an underground facility,” he started quietly. “We would go in ourselves but it has been near impossible to get information about their exact numbers. They seem to be coming and going all the time,” he said, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Scott and several others nodded in understanding, hunters tended to be good at concealing their numbers and it had caused more than a few issues for them over the years.

“Do you have a rough estimate?” Peter asked dryly from his position behind Derek.

“About thirty or so? If I had to make a guess,” the Alpha responded, looking to his son, who nodded in agreement. Derek and Peter exchanged a look. Thirty hunters for two captives?

“And the captives?” Scott asked worriedly. The wolves on the other side shifted uncomfortably.

“We’re not sure,” Mead grimaced in apology.   

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Derek asked, narrowing his eyes. Mead’s son responded quickly.

“We don’t know what the hunters are doing to them, but we know it’s not good.”

“How do you even know if they’re alive?” Peter demanded, ignoring Scott’s look of reproach.

“One we know for sure they won’t kill, he’s far too valuable.” The Mead wolves winced at their Alpha’s blunt words. “The other is good leverage against the first,” he ended with a half hearted shrug. Scott looked incredulous at their words.

“What’s so important about them that you would come all the way up here from Utah?” Peter asked casually. Mead and his son exchanged a look that spoke of a strong familial connection.

“One of them, he’s….. special,” the son hesitated. “That’s really all I can tell you. He’s an extremely private individual.”

“He is also hopefully going to be the next Alpha’s mate, which should be reason enough,” Mead interjected before any of the pack could object.  

“Special how?” Derek questioned suspiciously.

“He just is,” the son insisted stubbornly, tilting his chin up in defiance at Derek. His father gave him an exasperatedly fond look before turning back to Scott.  

“He has helped our pack on numerous occasions and if it weren’t for him most of us probably wouldn’t be alive.” Derek was stunned at the admission, and glanced at Peter, who was watching the
Alpha in consideration. Alpha werewolves weren’t exactly known for accepting help. It was one of the reasons his family was so powerful, his mother having had the ability to persuade Alpha’s to accept the assistance and alliance of other packs.

“My son has decided he wants to take him as a mate, if the boy is willing,” Alpha Mead continued certainly while the left hand nodded from his other side.

“The boy has earned our respect and we consider him part of our pack.” The bulky beta added. The rest of their pack nodded in agreement.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Peter, who knew as Talia’s enforcer that it was hard for the left to trust anyone. He and Derek exchanged another look and then Derek looked to Scott and nodded again.

“We understand how it feels to have a missing packmate, we’ll help you,” Scott said softly, feeling Derek stiffen beside him as he reached a hand over the table to shake Alpha Mead’s. His son visibly slumped in relief and Derek guessed that whoever this boy was, future alpha’s mate or not, must be important if an entire pack was willing to go to war with hunters for him.   

“Excellent! I will bring the rest of my pack tomorrow and we can discuss strategy,” the Alpha said with a smile and a seemingly renewed enthusiasm as the packs stood and dispersed from the table.

 The Mead pack declined the offer of dinner or snacks, claiming they all needed to rest after the mad dash out of their territory. Scott showed them to the door and watched as they piled into their cars and headed down the Hale house’s ridiculously long driveway, Derek grumbling at his side.

“Whoever the hell this kid is, he better be worth it,” he said softly as they turned back into the house.

~present~

Derek watched as Mead and Scott discussed final preparations a few feet ahead of them. Peter was absently sharpening his claws against a metal pillar while Erika and Boyd stood a few feet away murmuring quietly.

The Mead pack stood stiffly, tension clear in the outline of their bodies, but Derek figured that was to be expected. Not many packs were battle ready like they were, and he could tell it was taking a toll on the softer wolves.

Derek sighed.

They never did figure out why the guy was so important, other than being Mead’s son, Andrew’s potential mate. Once in a while they caught snippets, a word here or there, about the boy. They guy they were holding with him was a wolf, apparently they traveled together. Peter had been able to eavesdrop enough to figure out that Mead was willing to let the wolf join his pack if the boy decided to be Andrew’s mate.

Derek had to admit, he was curious, they all were at this point. The Mead pack never lied to them, but only gave them the information necessary to pull off the operation and not get killed. The closer they got, the more agitated Andrew became. It was obvious that he cared deeply for the person they were saving and fully expected to make him his mate.

It made Derek’s chest hurt. He brought his hand up to rub around his heart absently. Lydia noticed and rubbed his arm sympathetically.

“Danny found something promising, we can look at it when we get home,” she said softly looking up at him. Derek didn’t respond. Scott watched their exchange with sad eyes.

As a group, Mead wolves in front, they continued down the passageway. Getting into the bunker had been easy, the hunters weren’t expecting one whole pack, let alone two so they went down without much of a fight.

The two were being held in the center of the bunker and the closer the wolves got the more blood they smelled. Andrew was practically vibrating and had fall a few steps back to calm down after gouging a hole in the stone wall. They came to a stop just before another set of double doors. They could smell the hunters and hear their rapid heartbeats.

“It looks like they’ve concentrated their forces here,” Mead said low enough for only the wolves to hear, closing his eyes in concentration for a moment. “No wolfsbane bullets.” Mead looked up at Andrew with a frown.

“They weren’t expecting wolves to come for him, you know how he is about secrets,” Andrew answered distractedly, glaring at the door like he could put a hole in it. Derek saw Peter narrow his eyes at the pair. Scott opened his mouth to ask a question, but he got cut off.

“We have the element of surprise on our side, let’s use it,” Andrew grinned ferally, his eyes wild. There were several ‘clicks’ as multiple pairs of claws were flicked out and Kira unsheathed her Katana. Mead looked to Scott and Derek, who nodded in agreement and they took off in a wave.

They burst through the doors fully shifted and surprised the hunters, who started shooting at them wildly. The hunters rallied around another set of double doors and Derek knew that’s where they were holding them. He caught Andrew’s eye and motioned towards the doors and they started to make their way towards them.

The sound of metal hitting metal was jarring as the wolves jumped and dodged around the frantic hunters. Derek spared a moment to find Peter and Cora, who were both grinning viciously at the violence. They were working together to disembowel the closest hunter and didn’t even pause as his head when his blood spray drenched both of them.

Derek really needed to reexamine the pride he felt at how efficient his pack was at taking out their enemies.

The two packs worked together to clear a path for Derek and Andrew to get to the doors, but the hunters continued to regroup and eventually those still standing formed a barrier into the room. Luckily the wolves were quick and agile, continuing to dodge the majority of the thankfully non-lethal bullets.

After a few minutes they realized they wouldn’t be able to get closer without taking at least one bullet. Derek’s eyes scanned around and landed on a jagged opening in the ceiling.

He caught Andrew’s attention and cupped his hands, motioning towards the ceiling. Andrew followed his gaze and nodded. He sprinted towards Derek and jumped into his palms, using the upwards momentum to vault upwards into the open space.

One of the hunters yelled and pointed at the motion, but he was quickly cut off as a chunk of stone was hurled at his face, courtesy of Boyd and Isaac.

Derek would have to remember to thank them later.  

Andrew grunted and Derek smelled blood where the wolf was cut on the metal ceiling, but the wolf ignored it and reached down to help Derek through.

Making a jump his high school basketball coach would have been proud of, he locked his fingers with Andrew’s and was hauled through the opening. They crawled carefully around some rocks and old debris, ignoring the clunk, cluck of bullets being fired at them before finding another open section behind the hunter’s line.

They dropped down silently behind the hunters, who were concentrating their fire at the rest of the two advancing packs and Derek felt no remorse as he gutted the closest one. Andrew ripped his claws across the throat of the other.

After several more minutes, it was over.

It was obvious that the hunters weren’t expecting anyone to come for the boy, let alone two werewolf packs. They were ill prepared and it was over quickly once the guns stopped shooting and the remaining hunters were swiftly dispatched.

Andrew seemed to spare no thought for the hunter he killed, not that Derek blamed him, if his mate had been taken he would be ripping the world apart to bring him home.

Andrew barreled through the double doors before anyone could stop him and they heard an anguished cry and smelled fresh blood, wolf blood.

The rest of them followed quickly.

Andrew had killed the three hunters still in the room and stood a bit frozen, watching his arm heal from a jagged knife cut and taking in the scene with an overwhelming anger they could all smell.

One of them was hanging from the ceiling, barely awake and seemed to be the source of the majority of the blood they’d smelled. Derek could only guess that this was the wolf, no one else could survive losing that much blood. He was conscious, but just barely. The cuts on his body seemed to be healing much too slow.

The other was slumped on his side in the center of the room surrounded by what looked like circles of runes and sigils.

Mead was working frantically trying to undo the ropes that attached the wolf to the ceiling but he couldn’t touch them. They were coated in wolfsbane. Lydia and Kira rushed over. Kira slashed the ropes with her Katana and Mead caught the body as if fell.  

Andrew rushed towards the circle, ignoring everyone else.

“Hang on, baby, just hang on.” Derek heard him muttering as he pulled a knife out of his pocket.  

“Damien? Damien can you hear me?” Alpha Mead questioned softly. The wolf opened his eyes a crack.

“Mica,” he breathed.

“Don’t worry Damien, Andrew’s getting Mica, he’s safe,” Mead said gently with a small smile. Damien coughed violently for a moment before passing out. Mead laid his head down gently and turned his attention to his son and the rest of the wolves followed suit.

Andrew was walking around the circle slashing his knife through various symbols while they rest of them watch apprehensively. When he finally cut the last one there was a brief flash of light and a wave of power extended from the circle, making the wolves double over.

Derek gasped and felt his eyes flickering back and forth. A look around the room confirmed the rest of the wolves were feeling it too.

It only lasted a few seconds and when everyone was in control again and they looked back up Andrew was kneeling next to the boy. Although, boy may not be an accurate word, Derek noticed. He was lying on his back, both of them were turned away, but it was easy to see how built he was since he was shirtless. Andrew carefully scooped him up and settled him on his lap, holding him tightly still facing mostly away from them. Derek thought it must be an instinct to shield his mate. In this position, though, it was easy to see the sleeves of tattoos running up and down both arms, as well as extending onto his back, it looked like.

“Dad do you have it?” Andrew asked, extending his hand, not taking his eyes of the man in his lap. Mead moved forward and handed him a small vial with what looked like blood in it.

Derek and Lydia exchanged an alarmed look. Mead must have noticed.

“Don’t worry it’s just a plant extract to help wake him up. He gave it to us to use in situations like this.” Derek nodded. Peter came up to his other side.

“Derek, those markings, that boy definitely isn’t human.” He said in a low voice. Derek looked at him sharply but Peter just nodded towards Andrew who was tipping the vial into the boy’s open mouth. The moment the liquid hit his tongue the boy’s chest seemed to expand and Andrew practically sobbed in relief. The tension in the Mead wolves seemed to dissolve and they were smiling at the pair.

“Mica, Mica, oh my god, I thought I lost you,” Andrew sobbed.

“D-Damien?” the man’s soft voice questioned, croaky and dry from disuse or screaming, Derek couldn’t tell which.

“He’s fine Mica. Passed out from blood loss but there won’t be any lasting damage,” Andrew said softly, running his fingers through the man’s hair.

A weak hand raised and cupped the side of Andrew’s cheek, making Derek look away. It felt wrong to intrude on such an intimate moment. Derek caught Scott’s attention as well as the rest of the pack and they took a few steps away to regroup while the Mead pack moved closer to surround Andrew and his mate.

A few minutes passed while Derek and Scott were discussing their next steps before Alpha Mead came up to them again.

“I can’t thank you and your pack enough,” he said sincerely, glancing behind him where Andrew was helping his mate stand.

“Can we meet this young man we risked our lives for?” Peter asked coolly and suspiciously. Scott rolled his eyes and frowned at the gesture, but Derek couldn’t help but feel the same suspicion Peter did.

Mead looked back at Andrew, who nodded without looking at them, his instincts having calmed down a bit.

“Of course, you might as well know now, he’ll want to repay you for your help. Fair warning though, he can be a bit abrasive,” Mead said with a chuckle as he started walking towards them. The wolves parted as they approached. The boy had his head buried in Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew was practically purring as he stroked his hair.

“Mica? I want to introduce you to the pack that helped us rescue you, the Hale-McCall pack,” Mead said. The boy went ramrod straight in Andrew’s arms and everyone seemed to still. The air was suddenly heavy with the smell of sweetgrass and thunder. It made Derek’s mouth water.

“Mica? Baby, what is it?” Andrew said worriedly. Slowly the man lifted his head from the shoulder supporting it and turned to look at the two packs.

Derek felt like his heart had been punched from his body, his chest throbbing. Scott’s mouth dropped open and Lydia gasped loudly.    

“Stiles?!?” Scott choked out.

“Fuck,” Stiles sighed.

Chapter 2

Notes:

This is fast, but I like to update as soon as I finish chapters. I mean, why make you wait??

XOXOXOXO

The air was thick with tension as the Mead pack stared at the pack and the pack stared at Stiles. Derek and the rest of the pack were looking at him like they couldn’t believe it. They had been looking for him for years and now Stiles was right here in front of them.

He was happy and slightly bitter that Scott’s goldfish impression hadn’t changed one bit.

 “Mica? Do you know them?” Andrew questioned softly while the rest of the Mead pack turned to him in confusion. Stiles shook himself slightly.

“I did a long time ago, nothing to worry about,” Stiles said smoothly, clearing his throat painfully and turning fully to face them. If possible Scott’s mouth dropped open even more. Stiles ignored all their shocked expressions as he looked around, rubbing his arms slightly. Andrew eagerly shrugged out of his shirt and handed it over. Stiles shot him a small smile and ignored the slight whimper that came from the direction of the Hale pack as he pulled it on before they noticed several of his more important tattoos.

“Thank you, Alpha McCall and Hale pack, I appreciate the assistance you offered the Mead pack in my rescue,” he said formally, making eye contact with both Derek and Scott and ignoring the rest of the pack.

“Some form of repayment will be offered, I’ll have Alpha Mead contact you,” Stiles continued, gesturing vaguely and looking to the Alpha for confirmation, who looked stunned, as did the rest of the Mead pack.

“Y-you want me to negotiate for you?” Alpha Mead stuttered in surprise. Stiles nodded quickly, he felt like the room was closing in around him and he just wanted to get out of there. He leaned on Andrew a little more, which he hated that he had to do and took a deep breath gathering what was left of his magic. Before their eyes he seemed to stand up a little taller. He looked around in question and the pack parted for him so he could see Damien.

He started moving towards where the wolf was still laying and Derek couldn’t find the words to stop him he felt Isaac and surprisingly, Jackson practically vibrating next to him but neither spoke up. Luckily Scott seemed to have no such issue.

“Stiles wait!” Scott cried taking an aborted step towards him. “You can’t just leave!”

Stiles stiffened again and slowly turned back towards Scott.

“Like I said Alpha McCall,” his words laced with enough venom to make Scott falter, “thank you for your assistance but I need to take care of Damien. You may speak with Alpha Mead about what you and your pack would like for payment.”

No one could miss the very deliberate phrasing. Stiles was separating himself from Scott and the pack. Stiles continued to make his way to Damien. It took effort, but he was able to make it there and kneel down without help. He placed his hand on the wolf’s head and closed his eyes. Damn. This was going to take some juice and he didn’t dare do it in front of Scott and the pack.

He gathered Damien in his arms, a few of the Mead wolves were hovering, but they knew Stiles was perfectly capable. He stood up swiftly and turned to faces the two packs, once again ignoring the dumbstruck looks on the faces of his former pack. He nodded to Alpha Mead and turned and walked out the double doors, ignoring the throbbing in his chest, Andrew chasing after him.

~~~*~~~

The pack was left in stunned silence in the wake of Stiles’ exit. Derek could barely think. He turned to Scott, who from the looks of it felt much the same way. Alpha Mead cleared his throat nervously.

“I uh, I’m not really sure how this works, but what do you want from him?”

Derek looked at the alpha sharply. Scott looked around at the pack helplessly. None of them wanted payment from Stiles! They all looked like they’d been through the ringer. The pack had fallen apart when they realized Stiles was gone, there wasn’t a single one of them that wasn’t affected by his absence.

“What can we request?” Lydia spoke up, her discerning eyes narrowing at Mead. Derek nodded, it was a good question.

“From what he’s told me you can request pretty much anything,” Mead explained thoughtfully. “I know sometimes he gets requests for money, rare herbs, tokens and relics, basically, I think if it is in his power to give, he will.”

“Except sexual favors,” the left added with a dry chuckle. “The last time someone tried that he nearly took their head off, and Damien beat him within an inch of his life.” There was a chortle from the rest of the Mead pack, like they were remembering the situation fondly.

Scott looked a bit green at the mention of coerced sex and Derek wanted to punch something. People requesting sexual favors from Stiles!? His Stiles? The thought made him see red.   

“The bottom line is that Mica hates being indebted to anyone. If they help him in any way he offers payment,” Mead continued.

“So they can’t come back and ask for favors later. Smart boy,” Peter said bemusedly. Mead nodded in agreement.

“He told me once that he learned that lesson the hard way, so he would never let it happen again.” Mead shrugged.

Derek winced. Stiles never should have had to learn those lessons, not alone at least. His wolf howled at the thought of someone hurting Stiles.

“So, if we wanted to ask for, say a visit? He would do it?” Lydia asked, purposely keeping her voice light. Scott looked at her with glowing pride. It wasn’t the first time she had come up with a solution the rest of them would never have thought of. Lydia crossed her arms and stared at Mead, waiting for his answer.

Mead looked distinctly uncomfortable. Derek couldn’t blame him.

“It was obvious that Mica was distressed by your presence, but I’m not really in a position to say no,” Mead answered slowly, looking between Scott and Derek.

“Fine,” Scott answered before Mead could change his mind. “Have him come to our pack house tomorrow. You can give him directions I assume?” He asked in what Liam called his ‘Alpha business tone.’

Mead nodded slowly, obviously still uncomfortable with the way things played out. The Mead pack then filed out of the bunker, Mead and Scott exchanging a few more words before they shook hands. Once the doors closed behind them Scott’s expression turned positively gleeful.

Derek couldn’t help but give a brittle smile at his unbridled enthusiasm. After all this time they were finally going to get to see their lost packmate.

~~~*~~~

~The Next Day~

All the wolves head’s snapped to attention when they heard a car moving towards them on the long driveway. None of them really knew what to do with themselves and the living room reeked of anxiety. The whole pack was sprawled along the couches in an effort to look relaxed. They heard the car rumble to a stop and shut off. Derek frowned at Scott when they heard to car doors close but couldn’t hear any heartbeats.

Feet crunched along the gravel path towards the door and everyone held their breath.

The knock that came next was confident and loud. The fact that Stiles knocked at all said more about the divide between them than anything else. Seven years ago he would have barreled through the door all tangled limbs and sarcastic commentary.

Now though, there was just stoic silence as Scott gestured for Stiles to come in.

The wards flared as Stiles walked through the door and Deaton’s eyes narrowed. The rest of the pack didn’t seem to notice. They were all too busy staring at Stiles and the wolf next to him, who was busy taking in their immediate surroundings and assessing the pack members. Derek’s eyes flared like the wards.

“You brought a wolf into our den?” he gritted out.

“I go where Mica goes. If you want him to stay and talk to you, then I stay,” the wolf replied matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest. Derek wanted to growl in frustration. It didn't looked like the two were mated, but mating bites could be easily concealed. It would explain why the hunters grabbed Damien in the first place. The thought made him want to gag. 

Scott returned to his seat on the couch between Liam and Kira. Liam was fidgeting like he wanted to jump and hug Stiles. Scott understood the feeling completely, more than one joke had been made about Stiles and Scott being Liam’s dads, but somehow he figured the gesture would not be appreciated.

“You’re Damien?” Scott questioned, looking a little hurt that Stiles didn’t want to be alone with them. The wolf shrugged noncommittally and looked at Stiles.

“Well, this is your payment, I’m here. What do you want?” Stiles asked coldly. The pack gaped at him.

Derek was trying very hard to contain the anger simmering underneath his skin. Stiles acted like he didn’t even want to be there! That he didn’t care that this was the first time they’d seen him in seven years! The changes were even more noticeable now that he was clean. Stiles stood tall and proud and still. He hadn’t fidgeted once since he walked through the door, Derek noticed. He looked relaxed, but Derek was willing to bet a week of dishes that he was more than ready for an attack.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest to match Damien’s and stared at them pointedly. The movement drew Derek’s attention to the way the sleeves of his shirt stretched around his biceps. The shirt was a deep red color that accentuated his amber eyes. Derek’s gaze traveled lower and took in the tight black pants and heavy boots. Damn. Stiles looked good.

“You look so different,” Scott murmured softly, eyes roving over Stiles’ form. Stiles scoffed, lowering his arms and bringing attention to the swaths of tattoos.

“A lot’s changed Scott.”

“I think what Scott meant to say was, you’ll have to give us a minute, we’re not used to this…. new you,” Lydia said smoothly from her place on the couch. Several nods came from the pack and Stiles eyed her coolly before turning his eyes back to Scott. That movement alone told Derek more than he figured Stiles ever would. Seven years ago, even as friends, Stiles would have been all over Lydia’s impressed tone.

“I see you added some new members,” Stiles continued nonchalantly, his eyes rolling over Danny and Parrish.

“What are you?” Deaton asked abruptly. Stiles’ eyebrows rose into his hairline while Damien tried and failed to contain his snort.

“Deaton!” Scott hissed.

“What?!” the older man defended. “My wards flared when he walked through the door. What I don’t know is why.” He looked back at Stiles. Derek thought of what Peter said about his tattoos when they were in the warehouse. They all jumped in surprise when Damien started laughing.

“So none of you know what you so casually threw away all those years ago?!” His laughter softened as he wiped at his eyes.

“Damien,” Stiles said warningly. The wolf made a visible effort to quiet down but the smirk remained.

“Forgive him,” Stiles said with a fond smile. “He likes being dramatic.”

“Saved your ass a time or two!” Damien shot back. Stiles’ smile grew wider but he didn’t respond. When he looked back to the pack the smile faded. He cleared his throat.

“Again, why am I here?”

“We wanted to see you, especially after what happened with the hunters,” Erica piped up from her spot on Boyd’s lap. Damien snorted again.

“Andy made a bigger deal out of the situation than he should have.” Stiles sighed. Derek wanted to growl at the nickname.

“As I recall you were surrounded by a circle of runes that were meant to kill you,” Peter stated, raising a sardonic  eyebrow. Stiles grinned at him sharply in return.

“Don’t worry, it would take a hell of lot more than that to kill me.”

“Yet you were captured by hunters?” Erica snorted.

“A miscalculation on my part, it won’t happen again,” Stiles dismissed. Derek almost laughed. Only Stiles would refer to getting kidnapped and almost violently murdered by hunters a ‘miscalculation.’ 

“They told us you were important to their pack,” Scott responded carefully. A soft grin appeared on Stiles’ face.

“So it’s true then?” Derek gritted out, hands forming into fists to try and control the anger bubbling inside his chest. “You’re going to be his Alpha Mate when he takes over?”

Stiles sighed again and glanced at Damien, who shrugged.

“The situation’s complicated.” The pack paused, waiting to see if Stiles was going to elaborate. When it appeared he wasn’t Lydia tried another tact.

“They certainly went to a lot of trouble to get you back.” This time Stiles snorted.

“Most of them feel like they owe me something. I’ve gotten them out of more than one,” Stiles paused, choosing his words carefully, “unfortunate situation. I’m sure they just felt like they were repaying the favor.”

“So you don’t live with them?” Scott asked, confused. Damien laughed and Stiles grinned.

“Scott, we don’t even live in the states anymore.” The pack was stunned. No wonder they were never able to find him.

“Where do you live?” Isaac asked curiously. Stiles eyed him long enough to make Isaac squirm further into Danny before answering.   

“Europe.” Came the clipped reply. More significant glances were exchanged as the pack tried to absorb the new information. Derek was confused, Stiles left the United States? What could possibly have been that bad that Stiles fled the country?

“What do you mean, anymore?” Scott tried.

“I mean not anymore. We lived here for a while, but then moved.”

Scott huffed at the lack of details.

“What about your dad?”

“Look, can we not do this?” Stiles said frustrated.  “Can we not pretend that we’re besties that are going to ride off into the sunset? The only reason I’m here is to settle your payment for helping the Mead Pack save me and Damien. That does not entitle any of you to details about my personal life!” Stiles snapped. Damien reached out and laid his hand softly on Stiles’ back and Derek wanted to growl at the visible relaxing of Stiles’ shoulders. He hadn’t even been able to tell he was tense.

“We missed you!” Scott shouted, jumping up from the couch. “We’ve spent the last seven years looking all over the country for you!” Stiles scowled at him and Damien let loose a low growl.

“I know,” Stiles replied harshly. Scott gaped at him.

“You know?” Scott repeated dumbly.

“Yes, Scott. I knew you were looking for me, obviously I didn’t want to be found.” Stiles replied coldly letting his eyes wander over the rest of the pack.  

“How can you say that?!” Scott cried.

“It’s not a complicated concept, Scott.” Stiles said condescendingly. There were several involuntary growls that cut off abruptly, like no one could believe they were growling at Stiles. Scott continued undeterred.

“We’ve been trying to find you for years, Stiles!”

“Why, Scott?”

“Why?!” Scott asked incredulously, as if he couldn’t fathom why Stiles would ask such a question.

“Yeah, Scott. Why? I was only doing what you told me to!” Derek saw both Isaac and Jackson flinch at that.

“What?!”

“You told me to leave.” Stiles stated calmly, the scowl smoothing out into a blank mask.  A deep rumble came from Scott’s chest. Damien stepped up to Stiles’ side, arms crossed again. The message was clear, they were a team.   

“You and your pack had a meeting, remember? A meeting I wasn’t invited to, and decided I couldn’t be trusted after the Nogtisune and killing Donovan and Theo,” he snarled. “There was too much ‘lingering resentment’ towards me,” his voice dripped sarcasm. “You said I wasn’t welcome anymore.” Stiles eyes bore into Scott’s until the True Alpha looked away. He looked about as gutted as Derek felt. Stiles met his eyes briefly before turning them to Isaac, who was asking another question.

“Why did you leave?” Isaac asked timidly. Stiles gave him his patented you’re-too-stupid-to-live look and it might have made Derek laugh with sheer relief if it hadn’t been aimed at one of his pack.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked in disgust while Damien growled. Isaac burrowed into Jackson’s side even more.

“What about your dad?” Erica added.

“You could have stayed,” Derek said softly, looking up at Stiles.

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked incredulously. “So you wanted me to stick around just so you and your pack could continue to hurt me? Do you have any idea what it was like for me that first week? I had to sit and watch while all of my former friends ignored me! So I left, I have some distant relatives outside of California so I transferred Dad to the closest hospital I could find. It took me three weeks to pull all the strings! So if even one of you had noticed over the course of a month, you could have stopped me, but you didn’t!” Stiles spit the words venomously. The whole pack looked about ready to cry, even Danny, but Stiles kept going.

“Then when everything was set I decided I at least wanted to say goodbye, so I went to Scott’s house.”

Scott gaped at him and anxiety started pouring off Isaac in waves.

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a sigh. “Isaac threw me out on my ass along with several insults from Jackson about my ‘worthless human self,’” Stiles finished with air quotes. “You broke a rib, by the way, so congrats on that,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought. All heads turned to where Isaac and Jackson were huddled together.

Suddenly, a lot more things made sense to Derek. Both Isaac and Jackson had become very submissive to him and Scott, especially after they realized how upset their Alpha was after Stiles disappeared. Everyone knew how Derek felt about Stiles, especially after he left and the two betas seemed eager to help him recover, too eager he now realized.  Their various attempts to make it up to them over the years was doing nothing for Derek’s mounting anger. Scott flashed his eyes at the pair and they cowered a bit before he was able to switch them back.

Jackson flinched away from the murderous look Lydia was shooting him but Isaac was even more distressed.

“I didn’t think you would leave!” The beta cried, jumping up from the couch and towards Stiles in an aborted movement. Damien stepped forward with a growl, eyes glowing bright blue.

There was a collective intake of breath from the pack.

“Why are your eyes blue?” Scott asked, narrowing his own.

“Not everyone has the benefit of their best friend to teach them control after they get bit,” Damien responded derisively.

Scott flinched and Damien smiled in satisfaction. Despite himself, Isaac growled, inching forward in threat. Stiles took a small step forward, his eyes flaring molten silver.

“I wouldn’t threaten him,” he whispered dangerously.

 Half the pack jumped when there was an abrupt thump. Deaton had dropped from where he was perched on the arm of the couch to his knees.

“Spark, please bless this land with your light and protection, for it has been neglected and abused.” His eyes met Stiles’ dead on.

 Stiles’ magic swelled and eyes shone brightly at the formal request from a Druid.  His tattoos glowed brightly to match his eyes and a phantom breeze blew through the room. The room suddenly smelled like sweet rain and thunder and Derek’s wolf wanted to roll in it.

“Fear not emissary, this land shall be whole again,” he responded with a tilt of his head. 

“Spark?” Scott asked dumbly.

“Mr. Stilinski is a Spark,” Deaton clarified, clearing his throat and standing.

“What does that mean?” Lydia asked impatiently.

“It means,” Damien drawled, “that he could kill all of you without blinking an eye.”

There were a few chuckles, Derek included, until they realized that neither Stiles or Deaton were laughing.

“The wolf is correct,” Deaton said uneasily, his eyes flicking between Stiles and the pack. Stiles eyed the Druid coolly. All heads snapped towards Peter at the sudden sound of his voice.

“What kind?” He asked casually. Stiles glowered at him.

“There are different kinds?” Kira asked curiously. Deaton nodded.

“There are several, in fact. They each have to do with the different ways a Spark’s power manifests,” Deaton explained carefully, his eyes never leaving Stiles. All eyes turned to the Spark.

“Stiles?” Scott questioned softly. Stiles gritted his teeth and looked away.

“How long do we have to stay?” He growled at the wolf next to him.

~~*~~

Stiles was beyond frustrated. He never thought he would have to see any of his old pack again, yet here he was standing in their goddamn living room. Not for the first time he was glad he learned how to mask his scent and heart rate from other supernatural creatures. His magics scent he couldn’t do anything about, it was just an inherent part of him. Magical creatures would always be able to smell his Spark. Once upon a time it had meant a safe haven, stability for all sorts of creatures. Now it was just more trouble than it was worth.

“Alpha said they couldn’t have rescued us without them,” Damien replied with a shrug.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation totally missing the gleeful looks that passed among the Hale pack, especially Scott and Derek.

“We could leave,” Damien suggested innocently, smirking at the growl that rumbling unwittingly from Derek’s chest.

“Damien!” Stiles hissed in reprimand, eyeing the pack carefully.

“Actually, Scott didn’t say an exact time, so you can leave whenever you want to,” Jackson said shakily. He cowered when Damien glared. Stiles didn’t even bother to acknowledge his words, just turned towards the door. The speed was almost insulting. No, no it was absolutely insulting and Stiles hoped they felt every bit of it.

~~*~~

“Jackson, what the hell!?” Liam yelled as soon as the door closed. A chorus of growls was aimed at Isaac and Jackson.

Derek was devastated. One look at Scott proved the Alpha was feeling just as terrible. The despair reverberating through the pack bonds and his eyes were glowing a deep, painful red. He turned to Isaac and Jackson and clenched his fists.

“Leave now, before I lose control. Go stay at the loft until I decide what to do with you,” he snarled furiously. They both jumped up from the couch ad tripped over each other in their haste to get out the door. A second engine started and moved away from the house quickly.

There was a quiet shuffle as people finally started moving, all except for Derek.

Lydia laid her hand on his shoulder in sympathy and he gave her a weak smile, but based on the look on her face it must have come across more as a grimace.

He couldn’t believe what happened. In the bunker he’d thought it was a miracle, like maybe he was finally getting lucky after so many years of pain and heartbreak. He came so close to being able to apologize, to finally be able to tell Stiles how he felt all this time, and the spark wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.

He watched as Deaton and Peter spoke in hushed tones, probably about Stiles being a Spark. How had any of them missed that? Although, Derek thought wryly, no one had any idea when Stiles’ spark manifested, or how long he’s had the power. After the Nogitsune none of them had been the same, especially Stiles it seemed.

The human had been distant, but now that Derek was looking back, it was obvious that the pack were the ones being distant, not Stiles.

God, they were all so fucked up. How could they have done that to Stiles, to a member of their pack? It had seemed like the right decision at the time.

The meeting they had was about Stiles, but Derek thought they were just going to bench him for a while, maybe limit contact with the pack, not cut him out completely. His dad was in the hospital and Derek was sure Scott would have changed his mind after Theo’s deception came out anyway, but they never got the chance.

By the time they even thought to look, Stiles had been a ghost. Just the thought made him feel sick.

Derek took a deep breath, gathered his resolve, stood up and walked towards the kitchen, he wasn’t going to give up that easily and he knew Scott wouldn’t either.

When he passed by the door, he heard a voice on the wind.

“SCOTT! SCOTT HELP!!”

Derek’s head whipped around the same time as Scott’s from the kitchen and he nearly ripped the hinges off the door in an effort to get it open.

Derek vaulted over the porch railing and barreled down the driveway, the rest of the pack close on his heels.

 The pack ran towards Isaac’s screaming and for the first time Derek was regretting putting in what really amounted to a winding road.

They found them close to the end, Jackson’s Porsche stopped sideways like he slammed hard on the breaks. The reason was in front of them. What had to be Stiles’ car was stopped, front doors wide open. Isaac was kneeling on the ground next to Damien, who was trying to hold up a convulsing body while he was wolfed out and literally snapping at Jackson.

Stiles.

Derek felt his heart leap into his throat and he skidded to a stop next to the foursome just as Stiles collapsed into Damien’s lap. His face was pale and little beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

Damien’s blue eyes turned on the rest of them and he roared. Scott gathered himself and turned on his Alpha mode. Derek had to admit, he wore it well. He motioned for the pack to give them some room before trying to talk to the angered wolf.

“Damien?” the alpha called softly, eyes burning red. Blue eyes snapped to him.

“Damien you need to tell us what’s wrong. What’s happening?” Scott asked authoritatively. They all watched with baited breath as Damien’s features slowly returned to their human state.

“Damien?” Scott questioned again when the fangs receded, keeping his voice gentle and his hands at his side. Derek had to fight his instinct to rip Stiles out of the wolves’ arms.

“I don’t know what’s causing it, i-- it’s happened before, but I’ve always had help… his magic overwhelms his body sometimes..” he trailed off, looking down at Stiles, clearly shaken. His head shot up.

“Where’s your druid!?” he exclaimed, eyes scanning over the pack frantically. Deaton stepped forward quickly, his breath coming in short puffs, having been slower than the rest of them.

“How can I help?”

“Can- can you help me pull up his shirt? He got a new rune before we came, but never got around to telling me what it was for, I can feel it pulsing, maybe you can read it?” Damien said hopefully. Derek had to bite back a jealous growl as Damien rubbed his hand over the Spark’s back. Derek had to give the guy credit, he sounded absolutely wrecked and he was staying more focused than he was.

With Deaton’s help Damien readjusted the body in his arms until they could pull up the side of the tight shirt. The rune was on his side, but the shirt pushed high enough that Derek could see the edges of a large, black tattoo.

Deaton scrutinized the rune for a moment before speaking. “Roughly translated it just means pack,” the druid said helplessly looking back at Damien. The wolf paled considerably.

“Shit! Of course! He told me he was going to get one to connect him to Andy and the pack! He must have finally done it!” Stiles stirred in his arms and he grabbed at the wolf weakly.

“Andy,” he gasped out, his back rolling again. “H-hunters.” Damien and Derek both snarled.

“The hunters from the compound, they must have had friends that they tried to call in when we attacked,” Scott exclaimed furiously, pulling out his phone. He still had Alpha Mead’s number from before. He pressed dial and held the phone to his ear.

No answer.

“We have to go,” Stiles gasped out weakly, struggling to sit up. Derek reached out to steady him when he moaned and clutched at his head.

“Stiles you can barely stand!” Scott said disapprovingly, watching as Derek and Damien helped the wobbly spark to his feet. Scott couldn’t help but notice the hurt flash across Derek’s face when Stiles intentionally leaned more towards Damien. Stiles shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

 Scott snorted, how many times had he heard his former best friend use those words? He wasn’t going to let it slide this time, but he also knew how stubborn Stiles was, that part of his personality certainly hadn’t changed.    

“At least let us help you?” he pleaded. Stiles narrowed his eyes at them from where he was still leaning against Damien tiredly.

“Stiles, they helped us find you, we owe them.” Derek went for the guilt trip, it was low, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Stiles,” Damien added quietly, “we could use the help. We don’t know anything about these hunters and neither of us is fully recovered.”

Stiles huffed.

“Fine, let’s get going, but you all stay out of my way,” he snarled, but given how tired he was it sounded more like a kitten trying to roar. Scott and Derek smiled anyway.

“Parrish, run back with Liam and Danny and grab my truck, it still has some weapons and herbs in the backseat, in case we need them,” Scott ordered, then he turned to Deaton. “Can you open the clinic for standby, in case there are injuries? Take Lydia with you, she can help.” He worded it delicately, but Stiles still let loose an angry pulse of magic.

Deaton merely nodded and started back up the driveway after the others. Lydia glanced at Stiles before looking back at Derek. She reached out and squeezed his hand and Derek nodded. He knew exactly what she was saying. She took off after Deaton.

The rest of them crammed into the two available cars. It was a testament to how serious the situation was that Jackson didn’t once bitch about the number of people in his teeny backseat, or that he let Peter in the car at all. One unfortunate incident with a blown tire had gotten Peter banned from even riding in the Porsche.

Stiles gave Derek the name of the motel Andy and the pack were staying at as they sped out of the preserve. Luckily it was one on the outskirts of town so they might not have to worry about law enforcement getting involved or people seeing. Not that it really mattered. Derek informed Stiles that they had decided to bring the new Sheriff and a few key deputies in on the secret, so they had back up and a cover if they needed it.

Scott could tell that Damien was reluctantly impressed and he wondered just how long he and Stiles had been on their own. His heart ached for what could have been. He looked over to Derek. The older man was watching Damien hold Stiles in the rear view mirror, the envy written all over his face, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

It looked like Stiles was meditating. Scott watched in fascination as the sickly paleness receded from Stiles’ skin. Damien answered his silent question.

“He’s healing himself a bit before the fight.” Scott nodded. He continued to watch as the healthy tan color spread across the mole dotted skin.

It was amazing, even seeing this tiny example of Stiles magic. The car filled slowly with the scent of ozone and the sweet lemon and burnt sugar smell that was uniquely Stiles. God Derek missed that smell. He could see the long breathes Scott was pulling in and knew he felt the same. When he was weak, it seemed like Stiles had less control over his scent. Derek calmed as the scent washed over the car, growing stronger every second. Scott’s hands relaxed on the wheel and he glanced sideways at Derek. The older wolf knew what his alpha was trying to tell him.

No matter what happened there was no way they were letting Stiles get away from them again.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Hey all, I have ZERO excuses, this quarantine has just zapped all of my creative energy.

XOXOXOXO

All the wolves wrinkled their noses at the heavy smell of gunpowder and blood and ducked down behind the car.

These hunters were obviously out for blood.

 Stiles crept to the edge of the car and scanned the building quickly.

“They knew we would come, they have ten wolves behind the motel, unconscious from wolfsbane gas, the rest are dead.” Stiles ground his teeth together audibly and Derek was overwhelmed at the scent of anger and hatred. He gripped the edge of the car hard enough to dent it.

No fear though, it was obvious that Stiles wasn’t afraid of much of anything anymore.

“Andy?” Damien asked quietly from behind him. Stiles shook his head noncommittally in answer. He shrugged off the hand that gripped his shoulder and turned to face them.

The magic in the air was palpable, and the pack watched with wide eyes as magic started rolling off Stiles in waves.  

“Be careful, they killed humans, too. These obviously aren’t the type of hunters that follow a code,” he said harshly. He looked specifically at Scott when he said it. The Alpha bristled, but he understood. Stiles didn’t know them any better than they knew him now.

“How can you tell?” Erika asked softly. Stiles jerked a hand towards the front of the motel and they all peered around the car cautiously.

Scott snarled.

There was a body slumped over the retro decorated counters.

Derek opened his mouth to talk strategy, but was cut off by the pop of what could only be a silencer.

“It came from the back of the hotel,” Scott whispered, motioning for the rest of the pack to follow closely. Stiles hung back and let Scott lead, which surprised Derek, but he wasn’t going to question it. Especially when Damien all but admitted they weren’t back to full strength.

They crossed the parking lot silently, listening closely for any signs of movement, from either hunter or wolf. There was a low murmur of voices coming from the same direction of the silencer, other than that, not a damn thing.  

They came to the bottom of a set of busted out windows and Scott motioned to Derek to go ahead. The former alpha nodded and swung his muscled body over the ledge in a motion a gymnast would be proud of. No one dared to comment on how Stiles’ eyes followed Derek’s movement.

After a tense few moments Derek’s tanned hand came over the side, motioning to them that it was safe to follow.

One by one they slipped into the darkened room and made their way towards the door leading to the hallway. The scent of fear and blood was heavy and the odor of wolfsbane lingering in the air made their eyes water when they opened the door.  

The whole place was dark it seemed, which gave them an advantage, Derek noted happily.

They followed the hallway as it curved to the right and opened into a great room leading to the back of the hotel where they approached another set of windows.

Derek’s blood boiled when he saw the line of hunters guarding the remaining wolves. The Mead pack was in no condition to fight. They were bloody, banged up and mostly passed out. Derek zeroed in on Andy and his father and listened intently for any heartbeats.

He slowly turned to look at Stiles and Damien and shook his head negatively. Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were bright violet.

“Stay here,” he snarled quietly turning towards the nearest set of stairs. Scott lurched towards him, but Damien yanked him back with a low growl, raising his eyebrows at the snarl he received in return.

Luckily, the hunters couldn’t hear their subvocal pissing match, but Derek elbowed Scott anyway. They all listened carefully as Stiles made his way up the stairs and towards the balcony hanging slightly behind the group outside.  

There had to be at least twenty hunters surrounding the passed out wolves and Derek had no idea what Stiles was going to do, his palms started sweating.

Then, like goddamn Iron Man, Stiles flew off the balcony and landed in the middle of a group of armed, werewolf hating bad guys.

Derek was going to kill him.

They blew to the left and right, but recovered quickly, yelling at Stiles and each other. They came straight for the Spark and Erika cried out as one guy was about to land a vicious right hook. Stiles blasted him off his feet with what looked like purple smoke.

Stiles danced around the second hunter and slammed his fist into the nose of another. Derek wasn’t the only one with his mouth open in awe. Stiles had always been quick on his feet, but this was magnificent. Stiles blew through the hunters like he was made of smoke himself. Derek was just distracted enough that he almost missed it.   

The bullet narrowly missed the side of Stiles’ head, it was close enough that the pack could smell the slightly burned hair. Derek couldn’t stand it anymore. Scott met his eyes and nodded once harshly and they had a silent conversation. Neither of them was willing to lose Stiles again. Derek unsheathed his claws, rumbled to the rest of the pack, and rushed out after the Spark.

“Wait!! What the hell--“ Damien spluttered. The rest of them vehemently ignored his protest and followed their pack leaders.

Derek knew from Stiles’ glare that they fucked up, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. Especially when the hunters looked startled at the fire oozing from Parrish’s body and Kira’s katana.  

These hunters were definitely out for blood, Stiles’ blood particularly. They didn’t seem to share the same sentiment about his value as the ones in the bunker. They targeted him almost exclusively, except when they needed to fend off attacking wolves.

Derek was concentrated fully on protecting Stiles, so he totally missed the bullet lodging into Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson cried out in pain and Scott roared, charging the hunter whose gun was still smoking.

The hunter popped off two more rounds, Scott dodged and dove, coming up beside the man rather than in front. One harsh hit had the man flying backwards into the pool.

Apparently that was the motivation the humans needed. The hunters started to gather together to fend off the remaining attacks, shooting in tandem rather than wildly.

“Enough!” Stiles snarled, ripping off his shirt. Derek would have laughed if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. Stiles’ hands shot out, blowing the pack farther away from the action, and the hunters off their feet.

The pack started to protest loudly, but Damien shushed them and jerked his head towards where the hunters were standing back up silently, watching.

Stiles brought his hands together, almost like he was praying for a moment. Derek watched in awe as silver streaks slithered up his arms and chest and sunk into his tattoos, lighting them up from the inside, before pushing them out and away from him.

“I’m going to rip you apart,” Stiles snarled at the remaining hunters, who, to their credit, looked slightly terrified by the angry spark in front of them.

A bright silver light shot out from his palms and he slammed them down to the ground.

“I would move if I were you!” Damien yelled to the wolves, already sprinting away from the glowing boy. Derek looked at Scott and they both nodded before turning and following Damien who clearly had experience with this particular facet of Stiles’ magic.

The ground under Stiles’ fingers shifted and groaned as it split open. Cracks and fissures chased the hunters who were running, screaming and shooting at Stiles. Derek watched in fascinated horror from what Damien deemed their safe distance as the bullets hit the air around Stiles and bounced off, clinking to the ground uselessly.

The pack watched in awe as silver and green ribbons of colors shot through the tumbling earth and chased the hunters until one by one they fell into the ground.

“Holy shit, Stilinski,” Jackson murmured under his breath. Several people nodded their agreement.

“I told you, you had no idea what you threw away,” Damien said scathingly, eyeing Isaac and Jackson. Both wolves ducked their heads and the scent of shame radiated.   

As if some silent signal had had been given Damien suddenly rushed from their safety zone towards Stiles, who was walking towards them. Well, wobbling towards them. It was clear that the Spark was drained, literally and physically.

He reached out and caught Damien’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. They heard Damien’s reply.

“I got you, Mica,” he said softly.

As he gathered the now passed out spark in his arms and headed towards the car his expression could only be described as loving. Not in a romantic way, Derek was sure. But he smelled of a deep love, the kind that only comes with knowing another person at their core. He was startled to realize that he didn’t know Stiles like that anymore, none of them did.

They watched as Damien gently laid Stiles down in the backseat of their car.

“I need to get him somewhere safe, can we go to your pack house?” Damien didn’t bother raising his voice, knowing the wolves would all hear him.

“Of course,” Scott responded gently while Derek visibly preened at the notion that Damien considered their pack house safe for the Spark’s recovery. Scott then turned to Parrish.

“Can you clean this up? Call in some people to help the survivors?” Parrish nodded, claiming Peter and Kira to help. Scott pulled Kira in for a quick kiss before she ran over to the tangle of limbs and flesh left behind. Derek grimaced, he didn’t envy them one bit.

Everyone else was ushered into the cars, a few of them riding in the bed of Scott’s truck to accommodate the sleeping Stiles. No one minded.

Scott opened the door and ushered them into the kitchen where Lydia and Deaton were waiting, Scott having summoned them from the clinic on the way there. They had piles of pillows and blankets off to the side.

Damien rolled his eyes at their overcompensation, but laid him down anyway. He motioned for Lydia to put one of the pillows under Stiles’ head.  

“Is he going to be alright?” Isaac asked timidly.

“Do you care?” Damien snapped back.

“Hey,” Scott softly defended, “come one man, we care.” Damien narrowed his eyes at him and turned back to Stiles.

“He’ll be fine, it’s just exhaustion from using too much magic. I need to do a few things though, can you help me turn him over?” He motioned to Derek, who didn’t hesitate.

The pack watched as Damien and Derek flipped Stiles’ body gently. There were several gasps as Stiles’ back was fully revealed. The tattoo Derek glimpsed during the fight was a giant, black wolf with glowing red eyes. It covered the entire expanse of Stiles’ muscular back. It looked like Derek’s full shift wolf when he was still an alpha. Derek gritted his jaw and the rest of the pack could feel the potent cocktail of emotions he was putting off and wisely kept their mouths shut.

Damien was too distracted to notice that everyone in the room had gone quiet all of a sudden. He pulled a tube out of his pocket, just like the one from the warehouse except green this time and emptied the contents into his hand and started rubbing it gently into Stiles’ skin.

“How does that work?” Lydia asked curiously after the stunned silence lessened. “I thought his magic was based on his will, how does that run out?” Damien sighed and stopped rubbing for a moment.

“It’s hard to explain.” He looked at Deaton for help and the man preened.

“The magic doesn’t run out, but I assume Mr. Stilinski isn’t fully recovered from what the hunters did to him before?” Damien nodded solemnly.  

“He should have been at home recovering, but instead we had to come here.” It was said without the usual malice, but the majority of the pack winced anyway.

“So what he had to use today was on top of everything they did, and it was too much. His body and mind need to heal,” Deaton finished. Damien nodded again.

“So…. he’ll be ok?” Isaac asked again, not making eye contact with anyone. Scott moved to stand beside him and cupped the back of his neck.

“He’ll be fine, Zac. But I still want you and Jackson to go to the loft for a few days until I decide what to do, ok?” Neither argued, they just gathered a few things and left, Danny leaving with them.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to be here when Stiles wakes up,” Scott said sadly, glancing at Stiles unconscious form before turning to the rest of the pack.

“Alright, let’s take turns getting cleaned up.” Damien needed some room to work and Scott could tell the wolf was antsy with so many people around he didn’t consider pack.

None of the pack seemed eager to move but with some gentle coaxing they started filtering through the showers, comforted by the fact that Damien would be with staying with Stiles. Kira finished first and then made her way into the kitchen and started making sandwiches.  Derek came back down next and sat down in a chair next to the table. One by one the rest of the pack crowded into the room, watching Damien work quietly.   

The salve never seemed to run out, and now that Derek was back in the room he detected a sweet scent he hadn’t before. Damien rubbed it into each tattoo methodically, until he had covered the whole of Stiles’ back and arms.

Derek couldn’t help but stare at the wolf. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he had a feeling none of them would be well received, especially now, so he kept his mouth shut.

Damien finally finished and motioned to Derek to help turn Stiles back over and Lydia fluffed the pillow before placing under his head again before Damien started on his arms, shoulders and chest.

When it was finally finished no one said anything for a few minutes. They all just listened to the sound of Stiles breathing, watching his chest move up and down slowly.

“Now that Mr. Stilinski is a bit more stable, I’m going to head back to the clinic to await the incoming wolves,” Deaton said to Scott, who nodded and moved aside so the vet could get past. Everyone else stayed put.

Derek knew what they were all feeling. Stiles had just stumbled back into their lives, albeit unwillingly, and none of them were ready to lose him again so soon.

With the morbid direction of his thoughts, he could be forgiven if Damien’s abrupt statement made him jerk and almost fall out of his chair.

“He died, you know,” Damien whispered softly, stroking Stiles’ hair. The whole pack seemed to stiffen at once.

“What? Who died? Stiles?!” Lydia shrieked and the pack winced. Liam actually clapped his hands over his ears.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant,” Damien continued.

“What?!” This time all of them yelled and Lydia glared at the rest of them until the chorus of voices quieted.

“His dad, he died,” Damien repeated, finally looking up from Stiles’ face. Derek sucked in a breath and looked to Scott who had turned a deathly shade of white all the way to his knuckles where he was gripping the table hard enough there were sure to be dents. Erika placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he seemed to sag against her slightly.

“That’s how Stiles and I met actually, in a support group for kids who’d lost parents in law enforcement.” Damien casually stood up and leaned his hip on the table. It was clearly an effort to shield Stiles while he was hurt, most likely Damien didn’t even know he was doing it.  

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Scott whispered, voice breaking slightly. Damien glared at him.

“Did you honestly expect him to? After what your pack did to him?” There was a chorus of growls but Damien continued anyway.

“Look, I would kill your entire pack if it would make Stiles happy, but I don’t think it would, so just shut up and listen for a minute,” the were snarled. The silence was immediate.

“He’ll kill me, but you guys need to know a few things,” Damien continued softly.

“Why?” Derek asked suspiciously.

“Honestly, so you’ll leave us alone after this!” The snarl was back. “It took me a hell of a long time to convince him that he’s worth more than what you made him feel and I will kill each and every one of you before I let him fall back into that!” The steadiness of his heart told them just how serious he was.

The pack was gutted.

Derek looked at the boy laying on his kitchen table, no not boy, man. Stiles was forced to grow up, abandoned by his pack.

And hell if he would let it happen again.  

 

Chapter 4

Notes:

A sudden burst of creative energy hit me today and this is the result, yay!! These stories never go the exact way we plan, so I decided that I'm extending this to more than four chapters.

We get to learn about Damien's backstory this chapter, yay again!!!

Also, so much drama!!

XOXOXOXOXO

Damien was practically vibrating and the waves of anger rolling off him were choking in their intensity.

“You have no idea the hell we went through. You have no idea about the hell I went through with him!!” Damien snarled viciously, gesturing emphatically towards the sleeping Spark.

“Tell us about it” Scott replied calmly, crossing his arms across his chest and resting his hip against the table. Derek admired the control he was showing. The only way they were going to get the answers they wanted, no needed, was to stay calm and not antagonize Damien any further.

“I met Mica when I was seventeen,” he said started softly. “I had just lost my dad and I guess Stiles was in the area already looking for the Alpha already, but he stopped into this meeting, the one I mentioned before, just because he needed it I guess.”

The anger was replaced by the acrid scent of shame as he hung his head.

 “I was bitten by an alpha who went crazy, he lost his mate and never recovered. He had killed most of his pack by then and absorbed their power. He was crazy strong and crazed out of his mind.”

Derek shivered, thinking about Deucalion and he saw Erika shift uncomfortably from where she was sitting on Boyd’s lap.

“Stiles must have smelled him on me or something, because he ended up following me home. My house happened to be next to a small wooded area that he was hiding in. I took my dog out and well…” he trailed off, motioning towards his side.

“Did-did Stiles save you?” Scott asked cautiously. Damien laughed without humor.

“That idiot. I was laying on the ground bleeding everywhere and all I could see was this blur of movement. The sounds were vicious and I freaked out, so I drug myself back towards the house. I got to the back steps and everything stopped. When I looked back, I saw this dude I met once strolling out of the woods with a god damn severed head in his hands.” Damien shuddered at the memory. “I thought he was gonna kill me, honestly. But as soon as he reached me, he fell flat on his face.”

“Was he hurt?!” Derek asked quickly. Damien snorted.

“Damn idiot was fucking drunk off his ass.” Total silence met his declaration. Jaws dropped open all around.

“He was drunk?” Scott whispered, looking over to where Stiles lay silently. Derek couldn’t remember Stiles ever even drinking, the one exception being Lydia’s party after Scott got bit, but even then he wasn’t falling over.

“He drank a lot back then,” Damien sighed, rubbing a hand across his neck. “It took a few years to help him break that particular habit. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Mica’s spark burns through alcohol pretty damn fast, he had to drink a lot to actually get drunk like that. Sometimes I wondered how he was even alive.” Damien grimaced.

The guilt stabbed Derek in the gut. If they hadn’t pushed Stiles away…

“Don’t even!” Damien snapped harshly. Derek’s eyes snapped back to him.

“I’m not telling you any of this so you can have a fucking pity party,” he said angrily, looking at all of them. Derek swallowed down the lump in his throat and gestured for him to continue.

“I managed to carry him in my house and dump him on the couch and I ended up passed out on the floor next to him.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “The next bit is pretty fuzzy for me, I only remember bits and pieces. I woke up later and all I remember is my head pounding and the pain. We’re not really sure what happened, but the best we can figure is that the alpha transferred some sort of power into me when he bit me, I- I couldn’t handle it.” Damien hunched over on himself. “I was starting to shift and was freaking out. I called my Uncle.” He winced.

Derek could imagine what was coming next. Damien cleared his throat.

“Stiles woke up just as my uncle came through the door, but it was too late.”

Scott nodded in sympathy, no doubt remembering when he tried to kill Stiles his first full moon.

“Stiles, god he was amazing, he pinned me against the wall and talked me down. Then he told me to run into the woods while he called nine-one-one. I was so scared and confused, I just did what he told me to.” Damien shrugged uncomfortably, the pain clearly written on his face. “He told the police that he was a friend and my uncle had been attacked and I was taken hostage, I still can’t figure out how he got them to believe him.” He snorted again.  

Derek almost smiled. Stiles could talk people into almost anything.

“So how are you here now?” Lydia asked curiously. Damien gave her a half smile.

“I’m still officially a missing person.” He said nonchalantly. His heart jumped though, so it obviously still bothered him. Derek didn’t blame him. Lydia raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Scott.

“Even after all this time?”

More shame and embarrassment wafted.

“My uncle was all I had after my dad, no other family,” Damien responded quietly, looking at the ground.

Well shit.

No wonder the kid’s eyes were blue.

 “So you two stayed together?” Scott questioned. Damien smiled softly.

“I don’t think he meant for me to tag along, I know it frustrated him in the beginning, but he needed someone more than he realized, I think. He had been alone almost a year by that point.”

Scott nodded in understanding and it was silent for several heartbeats.

“So that means the Sheriff died shortly after Stiles transferred him away from Beacon Hills?” Lydia asked quietly, eyes glassy with emotion.

Damien hesitated, but nodded again. Derek wanted to rip something apart. Scott’s hand slipped onto his shoulder in comfort.

Nobody spoke for several minutes, the silence only broken by the shrill ringing of Scott’s phone.

“It’s Parrish,” he murmured, moving towards the living room before he answered it, talking quietly. Derek nodded his acknowledgement as the alpha walked away.

Jesus. Derek took a second to absorb everything Damien told them. Stiles had killed an alpha. And not just any alpha. A wolf on par with any from the Alpha Pack. And Stiles did that not all that long after he left Beacon Hills. Derek couldn’t help but wonder what else happened since Stiles had been gone.

Scott came back into the room and cleared his throat. “They’re on their way back.”

Some of the tension bled out of Lydia’s shoulders at the news and Damien looked relived.

“I’m glad the rest of your pack is safe,” he said sincerely. Scott nodded his thanks.

“Any hunters?” Derek asked tensely. Scott shook his head.

“None that they saw or sensed, looks like Stiles took care of all of them. Kira said it looked like an earthquake split the ground where we were, but you can’t really see anything.” Scott said, looking as relieved as Derek felt.

“What about the Mead Pack?” Damien asked nervously. Scott looked at him sadly.

“Only a few of them managed to hang on long enough to make it to Deaton’s, we’re not sure what the hunters did to them, but it’s nearly killed them all,” Scott replied helplessly. Damien slammed his fist down onto the table, causing half the pack to jump.

“Dammit!” he cried.

“Damien-“ Scott tried, but Damien cut him off.

“No! Those bastards knew exactly how to kill them! That’s why Stiles got taken in the first place!” He cried.

“What does that mean, Damien?” Scott asked patiently, hands out and hovering near the angry wolf. Damien snarled, his eyes flaring dangerously.

“In the bunker, those men who had us weren’t hunters, they were traders.” He spit the word with so much venom, Derek nearly flinched.

“They’ve been after Mica for years!! Once they caught on to what they thought he was, they’ve been relentless! First they just tried to get him to “share” some of his power, which, if they were smart they would know is impossible for any magic user to do, but then they just wanted to take it from him. But you can’t take magic by force, it’s too wrapped up in the soul,” Damien rushed out.

“So how did they want to take it,” Scott asked confused. Damien just stared at him.

“They were going to blackmail him into giving it up, Scott,” Lydia said, her voice trembling. Derek’s head snapped back around to Damien, who nodded sadly.

“So the ‘miscalculation’ Stiles mentioned?” Scott asked hesitantly.

“Andy,” Damien confirmed, shaking his head, “they were trying to lure Andy there because they thought he was going to be Stiles’ mate, but they weren’t expecting two packs so Stiles let his guard down. We had no idea they employed the extra hunters, they’ve never done that before!” Damien said, tugging at his hair in frustration.

Derek’s gut burned with jealously, but he tamped it down forcefully, now was not the time, and he had no claim on the rescued Spark.  

“We should have expected it,” Damien said with disgust. None of the pack knew what to say.

“Are there more coming after him?” Derek asked with concern, the rest of the packed waiting anxiously for Damien’s answer.

“No, between the bunker and now the hotel, they’re all probably dead.” He responded quietly. Derek and Scott exchanged a look, promising a conversation later.

The tension in the room lessened now that they knew they were safe, at least for the time being.

“Hey man, it’s not your fault,” Scott said, trying to comfort Damien. They were looking up at him and nodded shakily.

“I learned how to let shit go, it’s him I’m worried about.” His head jerked towards Stiles. Derek knew Damien was right, there was no way Stiles wouldn’t think this was his fault. It also explained why he chose to decimate the hunters instead of just running them off.

They sat there until Damien’s breathing evened out again and he was a little calmer.

“When did Stiles start getting his tattoos?” Erika suddenly asked curiously, now that the mood was a little lighter, it didn’t seem quite as invasive to ask.

Damien looked a bit startled by the abrupt change in topic, but he answered anyway.

“He had a few before I met him, but he gets them when he needs them. I was so jealous when I saw them for the first time,” he said with a grin. “I pouted for a solid week when he told me werewolves couldn’t get tattoos because of the healing.”

There were several snickers and Damien shrugged.

“Not my proudest moment, but I was still getting used to be a werewolf.” Derek cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What about the wolf?” He asked, pointing towards Stiles’ back, resolutely ignoring the knowing looks from the rest of the pack. Damien frowned at him.

“That one is magic and Stiles’ story to tell,” he said firmly. Derek nodded guiltily.

“You can use magic for tattoos?” Erika questioned eagerly. Damien nodded.

“Yeah, you can, but don’t ask me how it works. Stiles tested it on me, so I know it does, but the logistics are really weird.” He added with a slight shrug.

“But it worked?” Erika stressed. Another nod. The pack shifted around excitedly at the confirmation.

“And the tattoo?” Lydia prompted. Damien shrugged again.

“Hurt like a bitch but at least there was no fire involved.” Damien grinned cheekily as he pulled up his shirt to show them. In bold scrawled letters it read, Trigger across the left side of his ribs.

“What does it mean?” Scott asked curiously.

“It was for my dad,” Damien answered quietly, smiling fondly down at the tattoo.

“Wait!! Trigger?!” Liam’s head popped up from where it had been resting on his arms. Damien sighed, but nodded, grimacing slightly.

“OH MY GOD!!!” Liam screeched in delight. The whole pack flinched and Boyd reached out and Gibbs slapped Liam, who barreled on, undeterred.

“Scott!! Remember I told you about those guys?! The ones from the forum websites?!” Liam struggled to pull his phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it in his excitement.

“Yeah?” Scott answered dazedly, trying to figure out where the beta was going with this.

“It’s them!!!” Liam crowed, jumping up and shoving his phone in the Alpha’s face. Understanding dawned on Derek. For years Liam had been regaling the pack with news of two guys, who the supernatural internet had deemed Tattoo and Trigger.

Apparently they were ‘oh my God Scott so amazing you have to see this!’ and the whole supernatural community waited for news of them with bated breath. The pack had been happy to indulge Liam’s little crush since it made him so happy, but they hadn’t taken any of it seriously.

Derek gritted his teeth, Liam was never going to let this go.

He opened his mouth to counter Liam’s unbridled glee, but a shimmer coming from one of the tattoos on Stiles’ chest stopped him.

Stiles heaved off the table, reaching out blindly a wounded scream tearing out of his throat.

His eyes opened slowly. They were black.

~~~*~~~

The haze behind his eyes started to lift, awareness creeping in slowly. What the hell? Where was he? He felt around for his spark in his chest as he registered Damien’s voice, soft and sure, but who..

Oh.

OH.

Andy was dead. Oh god, what did he do!? Jesus Christ the one time he actually found someone he could be close to again and he’s fucking slaughtered by hunters. They needed to leave. Havetoleave, havetoleave, havetoleave..

He channeled all his remaining energy into his muscles to get them to move but they were locked in place, refusing to budge. He dug deeper, there had to be something.

He jerked back mentally when he felt the tendrils of his black magic curl around his heart.

No. No.No.NO!

It was already beyond his control if he could feel it. His body jolted upright without his permission and all he could see was darkness.

He heard the screaming distantly, not realizing it was coming from him until he felt a warm body under his hands. He clung to it desperately, needed the connection.

“Stiles.” A desperate voice cut through the haze.

~~~*~~~

“Shit, SHIT!!” Damien yelled frantically. He grabbed onto Stiles’ shoulders. Derek and Scott jumped into action around him, pulling the rest of the pack away from Stiles’ thrashing body.

“Help me keep him down!” he yelled as Stiles let loose another blood curdling scream.

Scott and Derek rushed to grab hold of what they could reach as everyone else looked on. Lydia had her hands clamped over her ears from the power of his screams.

Within seconds it became clear that they wouldn’t be able to hold him for long. Derek watched the body of the man he cared for so much strain against their hold and knew he had to do something. He took a deep breath and channeled all the power he could muster into one word.

“STILES!”

Everything stopped.

Like something straight out of a horror movie, Stiles’ blackened eyes turned to Derek.

They were deep, dark and unseeing. A pit of nothing. It scared Derek to his core. Stiles mouth opened wide.

 A jolt of energy slammed through the werewolf’s body and he gasped, it didn’t hurt really, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

The three wolves were thrown away from the table and it felt like all the air was being sucked from the room and into the Spark’s mouth, open unnaturally wide, until the same air, now shimmering with energy whooshed back out, sending everyone except Lydia to their knees with it’s power.

Stiles slumped back down to the table, breathing heavily.

Derek, Damien and Scott rose to their feet cautiously watching Stiles uncertainly. Scott turned to asses the pack and check on Lydia and Derek inched back towards the table with Damien, stopping abruptly when Stiles’ started moving, sitting up to face them, his head in his hands.

He was so pale that Derek was immediately reminded of how Scott described the Nogitsune before it turned to dust. Terror and shame radiated from his lithe frame and his body was racked with shivers.

A poke to his shoulder had him looking over at Damien, who had his eyebrows raised. He jerked his head towards the Spark, motioning that Derek should get closer.

Derek gulped nervously, but he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to touch Stiles after so many years, so he stepped closer. Stiles didn’t move, so he took another step, and another, until he was right in front of the distraught young man. He raised his arms up slowly, carefully until he could reach around Stiles’ body.

Stiles stiffened at the contact, but didn’t pull away. Derek pulled him into his body and held tight until Stiles gave in and slumped against him tiredly.

Derek grinned softly and turned to look at Scott, who was positively beaming.

After a few minutes the color returned to Stiles’ neck and arms and his shallow breathing evened out, almost like he was going to pass out again.

Until the slamming of the door caused him to jump up and flail out of Derek’s hold.

Derek couldn’t help but glare at Parrish, who came running through the door with Kira and Peter close on his heels.

“What the hell happened?” Parrish demanded, pulling a shaking Lydia into his arms roughly. Scott looked at Derek helplessly, but Derek had no idea what to tell them. He had no clue what just happened. So, he looked to Stiles.

Stiles reached out for Damien and gingerly placed his feet on the ground before answering.

“My possession left some dark magic in me, it can be hard to control when I get angry.” His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse.

“That’s not all it is,” Lydia said stiffly, Parrish's arms tightened around her and he nodded in agreement.

“You’re shrouded in death,” he added grimly.  

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her and looked up at Damien, who looked at the floor guiltily.

“I, uh, may have told them some things,” he said softly.

“We weren’t even here for that information and he can see it,” Peter said disapprovingly, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I can see some of it too.” He added uncomfortably, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Stiles glared at them. Damien shifted awkwardly next to him.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, using the voice Stiles used to love so much. “Please just tell us what happened, we’re worried about you.”

Stiles’ glare turned downright venomous when he turned it on Derek. He glanced up at Damien again and Derek couldn’t help but be hurt when his face softened.

“You told them?” Damien shook his head.

“I only told them it happened, not how,” he answered with a wince. Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Alright, look, it was a few years ago. I went head to head with a manticore and lost,” Stiles said heatedly, like it wasn’t a pleasant memory, which Derek supposed it wouldn’t be.

“Manticore are real!?” Liam asked incredulously, turning red when he was shushed by the rest of the pack.

“Yes,” Stiles continued. “Like I said, I lost that one pretty hard and there was no one around, so I died.” He ignored the gasps that followed. “The black magic brought me back, and now when I get angry or upset, it can be tough to control.”

“Tough to control?” Peter asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow. Stiles scowled at him.

“Does it hurt?” Scott ventured to ask.

“No.”

“Is that all we get?” Lydia said with a sniff. Stiles blew out a frustrated breath.

“I’m not even sure why I’m telling you any of this.” He gestured to the pack as a whole. “It’s really none of your business!” He growled, standing up shakily. Damien’s hands flew to his shoulders to help steady him, but Stiles shrugged them off.

“Lets go,” he growled to Damien, who looked at Derek imploringly. It was clear he was worried about this most recent outburst from Stiles’ magic. If they had any shot at helping Stiles through it, they needed to make him stay.

It also didn’t help that every fiber of Derek’s being rebelled at the thought of Stiles leaving when he was still so unstable. He met Scott’s eyes desperately.

“Stiles,” Scott pleaded almost frantically, “you’re hurt and you need to recover. I know being here with us isn’t ideal, but until we know there won’t be retaliation from other hunters you should stay. We have plenty of spare rooms that are kept closed, so Damien won’t have to worry about pack smells and no one will bother you, I promise.” Scott knew it was a long shot that they wouldn’t be able to keep Stiles from leaving if he wanted to, but it was worth a try. Stiles needed to see that they weren’t the same pack that he left seven years ago, they were better, stronger, more worthy of him.

They could take care of him now the way they couldn’t back then.

“Mica,” Damien said quietly. “I could use a few more days to heal at least, before we have to make the trek home. Plus, this has been happening more and more, maybe their druid can help us figure it out.”

More and more? Stiles definitely wasn’t telling them everything.

Derek knew he wasn’t doing it for them, but he smiled gratefully at Damien anyway. The scowl he received in return he resolutely ignored. The pack held their breath watching the emotions play out over Stiles’ face. Finally he answered.

“Fine,” he gritted out. “I need to perform the ritual Deaton asked of me anyway so we might as well spend that time recovering too. It’ll probably take me a few days and I’ll need a few things.” He looked at Scott expectantly, coldly. Trying hard to hide his excitement, Scott nodded his head towards their resident banshee.

“Lydia and Deaton can get you anything you need.” Stiles nodded before moving away to grab for Damien again. He slung his arm over the wolf’s shoulder and hobbled with him towards the doorway.

“Where can he rest?” Damien asked as they passed Scott.

There was a flurry of movement, like no one was actually expecting them to stay. Liam led them upstairs to one of the spare rooms while everyone else started the process of cleanup and a quick dinner. It had been a long few day and they were all exhausted and hungry.

Scott and Derek listened to the sounds of Damien no doubt putting an unwilling Stiles to bed and they exchanged a smile. It was nice hearing Stiles moving around the house. The Spark had left before they rebuilt the pack house, but they made sure to include a little bit of him in every part of the building.

Now all they had to do was convince him to stay.  

Chapter 5

Summary:

The Hale Pack regroups after a day of startling revelations and they find out a little more about Stiles in this chapter. A look into Derek's head since Stiles has been gone, if you will.

Notes:

Hello all!! I know this isn't the update most of you would have liked, shit it's not the update I wanted either, but I'm pretty happy with it after not being able to write for such a long time!

XOXOXOXOXO

Derek moved towards the window, blowing on his coffee. He took a sip and grimaced. It tasted like acid. He would need to remind Lydia that not everyone could stomach her idea of coffee. He sipped on it anyway though, because he needed the caffeine.

He hadn’t slept a wink. Based on the movement coming from what would otherwise be a silent house this early, he guessed none of them had.

How could they? Jesus, Stiles died. Would any of them even known? Would Lydia have screamed for him? Would Scott have felt it at all?

As if summoned, Scott walked into the kitchen, stumbling towards the coffee maker. Derek smiled. Their Alpha wasn’t at his most graceful in the mornings. Derek watched as Scott poured a huge cup and took a drink.

And promptly spit it into the sink.

“Ack! Shit, I thought Lydia wasn’t allowed to set the coffee maker anymore!” 

Derek chuckled softly as he watched Scott’s head disappear into the massive fridge, no doubt on the hunt for something to cut the acid with. He emerged victorious with a gallon of milk and poured a healthy amount into the cup.

He took another drink and sighed in relief before coming to stand next to Derek at the window. They sipped their coffee in casual silence.

It had taken a long time for Derek to be comfortable submitting to the younger man as his Alpha. At first it was just because he didn’t have much choice. He wasn’t an Alpha anymore but he wanted to stay in Beacon Hills where his family was laid to rest.

And after they all came back from Mexico, things had been different. Kate was dead and he no longer felt the same weight on his shoulders.

He should have noticed then that something was off. Stiles had been different after the Nogitsune, but he had hidden it so well, obviously none of them noticed.

Or cared, he thought bitterly. The pack had still been fractured and weak then, it was one of the many reasons Theo was so easily able to turn them all on their heads. So many things had never been dealt with, just pushed aside instead of talked about.

That policy had changed soon after Stiles disappearance. It had been Erika of all people, who first made them pull their collective heads out of their asses.

They had been watching some B level horror movie and when one of the characters started being electrocuted, Erika freaked out and took off. Damn near broke the door down actually. Boyd insisted they all stay put while he went at looked for her and when they finally came back hours later she was still in tears.

That’s how the rest of them found out about Gerard and the basement, well Stiles' involvement anyway. Erika tearfully described how Stiles had been beaten and tortured to protect them.

Scott lost his shit and Derek almost threw up. Neither of them could believe the human had never told them!

Lydia had just smiled through her own tears and brought up the many, many times Stiles had helped her get through the manifestation of her Banshee powers.

And Peter told them about offering Stiles the bite and protecting Lydia.

It had been a night of revelations and Scott finally acknowledged the gap their human left in the pack, as well as the mistake he made trusting Theo over his supposed best friend.

But one thing none of them ever did was examine why. They missed him and searched for him but still blamed him for leaving. 

Derek cringed internally. It was so obvious now, why he left.

~~~

“Can we get this over with please? Some of us have more important places to be.” Jackson huffed. Derek rolled his eyes, regretting his choice in biting the beta to begin with.

“This won’t take long,” Theo said with an evil smile. Derek really hated that guy. He didn’t want them here at all. In fact he couldn’t even remember the last time they had all been in the same room unless they were talking about how to find and kill the dread doctors and their chimera’s.  

“We need to talk about Stiles,” Scott said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Derek’s eyes narrowed at the tremor in his voice.

“Where the hell is he anyway?” Isaac asked, voice full of disdain.

“Like you care,” Kira muttered in an uncharacteristically sarcastic tone. Isaac opened his mouth to fire back, but was stopped by Erika’s glare.

Derek rolled his eyes again. This pack was a mess.

“Look, I just think it’s better if he’s not around for a while,” Scott said uncertainly glancing over at Theo, who nodded in agreement. Everyone looked at Scott like he was crazy, the only exception being a smirking Theo.

~~~

Looking back on it they had made a terrible decision. Stiles was the heart of their pack, even after he’d pulled away so much.

Derek had rejoiced in tearing the Chimera apart.

The old adage you never know what you have until it’s gone never proved more true.

They fell apart after Stiles left, Derek and Scott were both left questioning their leadership skills and the rest of them were just miserable.

After Erika’s freak out they stayed together as a pack and things did get better, but it took a long time before they were able to function normally.

Well, normal was relative, Derek thought, making a face at the window.

It took several of them almost dying in order to really pull both Scott and Derek out of the Stiles sized hole in their lives.

They had been less than vigilant in their territory and a gaggle of nymphs moved in without them realizing. It took about three weeks of cleaning up after their mischief to find them deep in the preserve and then the nymphs took advantage of their pack’s obvious discombobulation and nearly gutted Jackson and Boyd.

Kira took several claws to the face and scared Scott half to death. After that night Scott and Derek had a long conversation and vowed things would be different.

And they were for the most part.

They trained as a pack and eventually they became close again.

That’s when Derek decided to rebuild the house. He wanted everyone to have a home and a family. It became a pack project and everyone helped. When it was finally complete, Derek had never been more proud of them.

But nothing could make up for the hole sitting in his chest, nothing could fill it properly until Stiles finally came home.

So they looked for him. And looked, and looked, and looked. But they never even got close. There was a while there where Lydia had obsessively combed through death certificates, just in case.

At least now Derek knew why. Stiles hadn’t wanted them to find him. That stung, but Derek understood. They had so much to make up for.

“Derek?” Scott asked softly. “You ok?”

Derek turned to see the Alpha’s concerned eyes.

“Your scent went all sour for a minute.”

“Was just thinking,” Derek responded, looking out the window again.

“About Stiles?”

Derek hesitated before nodding and Scott went quiet again.

“He’s so………. different,” Scott said suddenly. Derek wanted to laugh. Different was an understatement.

“I mean, I knew he wouldn’t be the same after all these years, but I didn’t expect anything like this,” Scott admitted, looking down into his coffee with a frown.

Before Derek could respond they both heard feet coming down the stairs and Derek could smell Lydia’s distinctly earthy scent followed by ash and fire. Parrish.

“Good, you’re both awake,” she said briskly, moving forward to grab a coffee cup. Parrish eyed the cups in Derek and Scott’s hands and looked at them questioningly. Both men shook their heads tightly and the hellhound veered towards the fridge and grabbed a bottle of juice instead.

They waited patiently while she got comfortable in one of the kitchen chairs and took a sip of coffee. Derek winced when she sighed happily at the taste.

“We need to talk about Stiles,” she said matter-of-factly, looking between the two of them expectantly, leaning back towards Jordan when he came to stand behind her.

“I know we do, but let’s wait until more people are awake?” Scott phrased it more as a question, like he didn’t want to deal with Lydia’s directness quite yet.

Lydia huffed, but nodded in agreement.

The rest of the pack, minus Isaac and Jackson, filtered in over the next hour, some grabbing drinks or toast, no one seemed to be up for anything complicated yet. Parrish finally broke down and made a new pot of coffee for everyone, stifling Lydia’s offended gasp with a short kiss while the rest of them struggled not to laugh.

The laughter was tapering off when Damien walked into the kitchen. He paused at the threshold, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

“Coffee?” Kira asked, holding the pot up in question. Damien gave her a small smile and Scott beamed at her. Derek shook his head fondly. Kira was without a doubt the least awkward of all of them. Derek attributed that to her soft demeanor while the rest of them were still filing down the sharp edges.

Damien sipped his coffee gratefully. He obviously didn’t get much sleep either.

“How’s Stiles?” Scott asked gently.

“He was awake for a little while this morning, but I convinced him to go back to sleep for a while,” Damien said, obviously deflecting. He reached into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, turning to Lydia.

“He was up long enough to make a list of what he needed though, for the cleansing ritual.” He handed Lydia the paper with Stiles neat scrawl on it. The Banshee eyed it critically for a moment before nodding and passing it to Peter to peruse.

Derek watched his eyebrows rise at a few of the names.

“We have most of this already, and we can get the rest,” he said decisively. Damien looked relieved.

“That’s great. Mica isn’t exactly known for his patience,” he joked with a small smile before going quite again. His eyes roved over the pack and he sighed.

“Just ask.” He scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly.               

“How is he? Really.” Derek asked, more harshly than he intended judging by the looks the rest of the pack aimed his way.

“He was nearly killed twice in the past two days, how the hell do you think he’s doing?” Damien snapped.

 “We know that,” Scott interjected calmly.

“Do you?” Damien asked with disdain. “Whether any of you want to admit it or not, you don’t know who he is anymore!”

Derek gritted his teeth.

“We know that, too,” Scott said sadly. That seemed to take the wind right out of Damien’s sails. The wolf didn’t say anything else, just looked down at his coffee like it held all the answers. There was a minute of uncomfortable silence before he spoke again.

“I know you have more questions, you get one more before I’m going to make you start asking Stiles.” He still wasn’t looking at them.

Everyone looked to Scott, who bit his lip. Oh shit. Derek knew what was coming, and it was likely to piss the blue eyed wolf off.

“Why weren’t you there? When Stiles died?” Scott asked, struggling to keep the accusation out of his voice. He must not have succeeded, because surprisingly Damien’s guilt permeated the room rather than anger.

“Remember when I said he didn’t really want to take me with him?” He said wryly. “Well that was one of the times he ditched me and ran off by himself.”

Derek’s anger faded a bit at that. After all, how many times had Stiles really ever listened when they told him to stay out of things? Derek couldn’t think of a single one actually.

“What happened?” Kira asked softly, sliding her hand into Scott’s. Damien grimaced.

“I found him after he came back, so I don’t really know exactly what happened. He was just….. devastated. I could barely make sense of what he was saying. All I could make out was that he seemed to think the Nogitsune brought him back and that wasn’t a good thing. He had never told me anything about his past before that, really. All I knew is what I’d managed to piece together myself.” Damien shrugged uncomfortably before continuing.

“He got blind stinking drunk that night and told me everything and never tried to ditch me again after that, which I thought was progress,” he admitted. “But after a while I figured out that the only reason he told me any of it was so I could kill him if the thing ever resurfaced.” Damien shook his head in disgust.

Derek’s heart dropped. Stiles was willing to kill himself to make sure the Nogitsune never came back?

“He seemed to think he wasn’t worth saving if it did,” Damien growled. Derek looked away guiltily, not realizing he said it out loud.

“That’s – that’s not true,” Scott said weakly. Damien crossed his arms angrily.  

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not! What matters is how you made him feel!” The wolf barred his teeth. Scott flashed his eyes in return, a deep growl reverberating in his chest.

“Enough!” Erika shouted, causing more than one person to jump. She swallowed before continuing.

“This isn’t about you guys!” She hissed, flashing her eyes. Boyd spoke next, surprising everyone.

“It’s obvious that he’s hurting. If that black magic is really as dangerous as you claim then he needs our help. Not that you haven’t helped him,” Boyd amended at Damien’s glare. “But obviously something is happening that none of us understand, including Stiles. This isn’t something he’ll be able to do alone!”

The beta’s passion surprised Derek, but that didn’t make it any less true. Everyone nodded in agreement, and Erika kissed Boyd’s cheek proudly, making his dark cheeks pink.

“I don’t like it,” Damien said plainly, “but it’s happening more often and getting worse every time. Plus he’s never calmed down that fast with me.” He looked pointedly at Derek, who couldn’t help but preen a little.

Scott smiled happily, just the thought that Stiles might trust them again was enough for him.

“But,” Damien amended, grabbing their attention again, “you need to talk to him. That’s what fucked everything up before right? Making decisions without consulting him?” He asked, not pulling any punches.

Half of them winced and Scott nodded sadly.  

“And whatever Mica decides, you have to respect it,” Damien added resolutely. “This isn’t the time to get into a pissing match because you want to apologize.”

Derek exchanged a look with Scott and they both nodded solemnly.

Then right on time, everyone’s heads snapped up towards the ceiling.

“I take it Stiles is awake?” Lydia asked wryly. Everyone nodded.

“Alright lets get breakfast started,” Scott clapped his hands together. “Liam, pup, isn’t it your turn for waffle duty?” He asked with a gleeful smile. Liam grumbled, but stood up to gather the ingredients.

“Parrish, Boyd, you guys wanna get started cracking eggs?” They both nodded and moved towards the stove. Lydia got up and moved towards the counter.

“Lyds, stay away from the coffee maker!” Scott didn’t even turn around from where he was rummaging through the fridge for cheese. Lydia sat back down with a grumble and everyone chuckled.

The kitchen was soon bustling with activity and noise.

Derek watched Damien, who was ignoring all of them. His head was cocked to the side obviously waiting for something. After a few seconds he smiled softly and left the kitchen.

He was going to get Stiles.

Derek’s heart sped up, thumping against his chest wildly. They could do this, they could help Stiles.

He could do this.                

Chapter 6

Notes:

You know, I was going to make this a much longer fic, but I really like the way it turned out. Sometimes the words take you someplace you don't expect. I think this chapter is a great representation of the ways I've changed over the years. Even just in the past year. The anger I originally felt when I started this story just isn't there anymore, and that's ok. Just remember, it's ok to let go of things, not for them, but for yourself.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

 

For the first time in a while, Stiles woke slowly. His power was simmering gently in his chest, pulling him into consciousness.

He let his magic slip gently from his fingers and over the floor towards the door, down over the stairs, and further it roamed until it hit…… Boyd?

His eyes snapped open and he scowled at the ceiling.

That’s right, he was in the Hale house. This might technically be Scott’s pack now, but this mansion had Peter Hale written all over it. Not that he’d had much time to take it in.

His scowled deepened as he recalled the events of the previous day. He lost control, again. He sighed. It had been happening more and more as he got older. Sparks grew with their magic and barring death, there was no limit to what he could do, or in his case including death. Because of course he was the exception to the rule.

But, that kind of magic always came with a price.

He knew that better than anyone. 

His magic rolled over Damien and the scowl softened. He had been weak and tired when he agreed to stay here, but the sooner he got the rituals done, the sooner they could leave. He pulled back the magic and knew Damien was coming with it, his footfalls nearly silent on the stairs.

“You can come in,” he said softly after a few moments of silence, voiced laced with amusement. Damien opened the door slowly, a sheepish smile on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Damien asked crossing over to the bed. Stiles hauled himself into a sitting position and rolled off the bed, wiggling and shaking out all the kinks. Damien stayed silent as Stiles took and internal inventory of his body. He frowned and turned his attention to the wolf.

“I feel…. fine?”

Damien snorted. “Was that a question?”

Stiles held back a smile at the familiar exchange. As much as he resisted at first, he was glad Damien never gave up on him. Not that he would ever, ever admit that to him.

“They’re going to want to know what happened yesterday,” Damien said quietly.

Stiles continued stretching, ignoring the look he knew he was getting.

“You’ve never recovered this quickly from one of those,” Damien pointed out unhelpfully.  

“I take it everyone is awake?” He asked, avoiding the subject altogether. Damien sighed loudly.

“Yeah, they are. There’s food, too.”

Stiles’ stomach grumbled loudly at the mention of food. Damien snorted again and bent over to grab the shirt Stiles threw on the floor the night before.

“Come on, let’s get you downstairs before you get hangry.”

“I do NOT get hangry!” Stiles grumbled unhappily, pouting as he followed Damien out the door and down the stairs. Damien just laughed, the infuriating idiot.

Stiles wanted to laugh at the way the pack was trying and failing to look casual when they walked into the kitchen.  

Stiles ignored them and made a beeline for where Liam had just finished the second waffle. He picked it up with his fingers and bit into it, moaning slightly at the taste.

All noise behind his ceased and he turned to find all of them staring at him with wide eyes. Damien burst into laughter next to him.

~~~*~~~

The spark had cloaked his scent again, Derek noted with displeasure as he watched the blush coat Stiles’ cheeks as he gulped down the rest of the waffle quickly.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, the embarrassment (that Derek couldn’t scent) clear in his voice. “I tend to get tunnel vision with food after using a lot of magic.” His stomach growled again as if trying to prove his point.

“It’s ok, we figured you’d be hungry,” Scott said, beaming like an eager puppy as he pushed a fresh waffle towards the spark. Stiles took it greedily, ripping it into more bite sized pieces. Liam piled waffle after waffle on the plate and Stiles ate them all.

“Eggs?” Boyd asked from the stove. Stiles ears turned even pinker, but he nodded. Boyd didn’t acknowledge it, just piled another plate with a veritable mountain of cheesy eggs and shooed him towards the table. After Stiles was settled the rest of the pack got up and grabbed their own food.

No one called Derek out on the cup of coffee that magically appeared at Stiles’ elbow.

Derek quashed the urge to yip happily at the sight of Stiles eating food made by his pack in his den.

Stiles didn’t look up from his eggs until everyone was back at the table. He glanced around at the other foods that had been placed around. He frowned slightly.

“Bacon?” He asked. Scott looked like he wanted to cry.

“We’re all out of bacon, we forgot it at the store last time we were there.” He said apologetically.

Stiles shrugged and waved his hand and a gigantic pile of steaming bacon and ham popped up in front of him.

 “Technically I can, but I try not to do things like that.” Stiles shrugged again, piling more meat on his plate.

“Why not? Wouldn’t it make things easier for you?” Lydia asked curiously. Stiles gave her a long look. Derek knew he was thinking about whether or not he even wanted to answer the question.  

“Magic isn’t a cure all for life. There always has to be a give and take, otherwise bad things happen,” Stiles finally answered. Each word was measured, answering the question, but not giving away pertinent information. Derek bristled at the secrecy, but he understood. A look over at Scott told him the alpha felt similarly.

“Is that why you smiled earlier?” Derek asked Damien, trying to contain his animosity. “You felt his magic?”

Damien gave Derek a surprised look and nodded.

“Why didn’t the rest of us pick up on anything?” 

“He can feel it because I let him,” Stiles said shortly, not looking up from his plate. Derek tamped down the anger from his wolf at Stiles’ dismissal.

Halfway through the pile of bacon, Stiles spoke again.

“You have what I need for the ritual?” He asked gruffly, looking up at Lydia. The redhead was pleased to be acknowledged.

“I need to make a trip to Deaton’s, but yes, we have it,” she answered calmly. Stiles nodded and pushed away from the table. He reached his arms out and stretched them over his head, popping his back loudly. Derek’s face heated at the sight of the thin strip of skin between his jeans and shirt and he ducked his head.

“I need to meditate first, is there a garden around here?” The spark asked, moving towards a window and looking around curiously. Derek cleared his throat.

“Around the back.” His voice came out in a squeak and there were several splutters of poorly contained laughter. Stiles turned back towards the table with a confused look. Derek would forever be grateful to Kira when she piped up, distracting him with her effervescent personality.

“I’ll take you out there, if you want? It’s not my turn for dishes anyway,” she said all too happily. All Stiles could do was nod as he followed the skipping Kitsune out of the kitchen, Damien close on his heels.

Lydia rose from her spot next to Parrish, “I’ll head out too. I need to gather those ingredients.” Scott nodded.

“I’ll come with you and check on Isaac and Jackson, I’m sure they’re losing their shit.” Lydia nodded and went to get dressed.

Derek growled at the thought of the two idiot betas. Scott gave him his patented lets-not-judge-until-we-know-more look and Derek just waved him off. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture today.

Everyone who wasn’t on dish duty drifted away from the table and went to do their own thing. Normally, since it was a weekend they would be having a pack day or training, but it was obvious no one wanted to disturb the fragile peace between the pack and Stiles. No one wanted to risk him leaving for any reason.

Derek helped clear the dishes and put the food away, snagging the last piece of bacon smugly while Erika rolled her eyes at him.

Scott and Lydia left the house shortly after, with Lydia driving so she could drive home from Deaton’s and Scott could run to the loft from there.

Derek settled into the chair nearest to the window overlooking the garden with a book and tried not to be overly creepy while he listened in on Stiles’ meditation.

Judging from the number of knowing looks from the pack, he was not successful. He had been reading the same page for nearly a half hour before he heard the sound of Lydia’s car rolling up the driveway.

He heard a short, one sided conversation and then Lydia was walking into the house, her face pale and drawn.  

But before Derek could ask, the door opened again and Stiles head popped through.

“I need the two Hales,” he said loudly, not making eye contact with anyone.

~~~*~~~

He felt the confused looks aimed his way and sighed audibly. He had forgotten about Cora.

“Derek and Peter, I need you both. Specifically your blood,” Stiles elaborated with an eye roll at their suspicious looks and a somewhat apologetic shrug in Cora’s direction.

Surprisingly, they didn’t argue or ask questions, they simply stood up and followed him outside and into the woods.

Stiles assumed they knew where he was taking them, so he didn’t bother explaining anything. But he should have known at least one of them would ask.  

“Why do Derek and I make it stronger? Why not Cora?” Peter asked after a few minutes. Stiles stopped walking and turned back to look them both in the eye.

“You have both made sacrifices of pack death to the land.” He turned and kept walking, hoped they’d leave it at that.

“What exactly does that mean, little Spark?” Peter pressed, falling instep behind him. Stiles sighed and stopped again.

Stiles hesitated. He didn’t want to divulge much about his abilities, but he owed them again for talking him down yesterday.

“Are you sure you want to know?” He asked seriously. They exchanged a look and nodded.

“You’ve both killed a Hale.” Peter looked away quickly and Derek paled. Stiles shrugged.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” He continued on the path to the Nemeton. The rest of the walk was awkward and silent, but Stiles refused to be the first to break it. He didn’t particularly want to talk either of the men behind him.

He knew the pack was growing on Damien, he could tell from his friend’s behavior, but Stiles still adamantly refused to have anything to do with them.

He held on tightly to his anger at them.

They finally made it to the Nemeton, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.

As far as cleansing rituals went, this one was fairly straight forward, especially since the original pack was still here. Well, parts of it anyway. Blood from the Hale pack would make the magic much stronger, so Stiles didn’t have to put forth much effort.

He motioned for Peter and Derek to follow him and he walked up to the giant stump, unloading the bag of things he brought with him. He grabbed the knife and started carving a little well into the trunk of the ancient tree.

Peter’s eyes bugged out of his head and Derek shifted nervously.

“Sh-,“ Derek cleared his throat. “Should you be doing that?”

Stiles just gave him a look and kept stabbing at the wood in front of him. Once it was deepened to his satisfaction he began pouring various herbs and powders. He gave it a quick stir and glanced back to the wolves with a cheerful grin.

“You’re up, Zombiewolf.”

~~~*~~~

The spark reached out his hand to Peter and Derek barely held back his growl when his uncle slid his hand into Stiles’.

“Do you give this blood freely to repair the damage done while in your care?” Peter nodded and Stiles sliced across his hand, letting the blood drip freely onto the tree below. Once he had enough, Peter stepped back, his eyes wide with something like awe. Stiles then reached out for Derek.

Derek gulped nervously and held out his hand, lamenting the amount of sweat between his fingers when Stiles grasped them in his own.

Stiles repeated the oath and as he cut into Derek’s flesh the was a zing through his blood, and for a brief moment he could feel the forest around him. He watched his blood stain the wood along with his uncle’s and he could feel the very heart of the Nemeton.

He was more than a little disappointed when Stiles released his hand and the feeling ebbed. Following Stiles directions he stepped back and out of the way.

Stiles stood still, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, they were glowing gold. He held his hands above the tree and chanted in Gaelic.

“Feuch an gabh thu ris an ìobairt fala seo agus slànaich am milleadh a rinn mi às aonais agus dèan am fearann seo slàn a-rithist.”

Derek could help the way his body reacted. Even without the scent, which Stiles was still keeping hidden, the spark looked absolutely mouthwatering like this.

The concoction sizzled and popped and Stiles lowered his hands with a satisfied little smile. He stepped away from the tree and gathered everything up.

“That’s it?” Derek blurted out. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

“What did you think was going to happen?”

Derek fumbled a bit and Peter snorted.

“Awww don’t you trust me, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked mockingly, slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

Before Derek could answer, a gentle wind blew through the clearing. Derek couldn’t describe the feeling if he tried, but it almost felt…. alive.

Stiles knew exactly what it was judging by the look on his face.

“'S e ur beatha,” Stiles breathed with a soft smile. Derek just about melted into a puddle. Peter rolled his eyes.

Crack.

All three of their heads whipped around at the sound of someone walking towards them from the woods.

It was Damien and Scott, with the latter having a very grim look on his face. Stiles instantly tensed at the sight of the two wolves together.

Derek grimaced. Whatever was coming couldn’t be good if both Scott and Damien were here.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked harshly.

Stiles stared at the Alpha, waiting for him to speak.

“Before I went to see Isaac and Jackson, I stopped at Deaton’s with Lydia to see the remaining members of the Mead Pack,” Scott said softly. Stiles’ shoulders stiffened, the sour smell of guilt permeated the clearing before Stiles cut it off with his magic.

Damien looked at him sharply. A heavy silence followed.

“How many of them survived?” Stiles finally asked in a flat voice.

“Two,” Scott said with a wince. “The rest of them….. their wounds were just too much. Even the strain of wolfsbane the hunters had with them wasn’t enough. It was just too late.”   

Stiles fists clenched tightly. No one moved.

Stiles took a deep breath, and then another, and another until gradually his grip started to loosen.

If Derek hadn’t smelled it, there would be absolutely no evidence that Stiles cared at all what happened to them.

“Stiles, what do you need?” Damien asked softly, approaching the angry spark slowly.

He looked up at Damien slowly and the pack gasped. His eyes were purple. A bright, beautiful molten purple.

“I refuse to let their deaths be without meaning,” Stiles snarled. He dropped the cloak on his magic.

Derek wasn’t the only one that whined at the scent of grieflosspainanguish that slammed into the pack. Derek stepped forward in an aborted move forward to comfort the spark, but was blown back by the wind, no longer gentle.

Derek reached forward again and Damien grabbed his arm, shaking his head. Derek whined low in his throat, but stayed where he was.

Stiles brought his hands together, much like he had with the hunters, but instead of pushing power out, he was drawing it in. His fingers moved quickly, spinning and forming, until he had a perfect miniature wolf in his palms.

Derek watched in awe as he stepped forward, placing the creature on top of the Nemeton. Before their eyes it grew and grew, until it rivaled Derek in his full shift. It hopped off the stump and sniffed around curiously for a second, before it trotted off towards the trees.

Stiles smiled at the wolf and watched it disappear into the forest. Damien finally let go of Derek, and he rushed forward as soon as he saw Stiles start to tremble.

Derek reached out tentatively and Stiles collapsed into his arms. Derek lowered the worn out spark to the ground gently, maneuvering him to sit between his legs and rest against his chest.

Derek could hear the rest of the pack filtering into the clearing, no doubt drawn in by the chaotic wind and scent of magic. He could hear Scott and Damien reassuring them, but all his focus remained on the shaking body in his arms.

Stiles’ own chest was heaving, his scent still heavy and sour with sorrow.

“When I died,” Stiles started speaking softly, and everyone went quiet. “There was a short time I was in limbo, not quite alive, but not dead yet either. There was a part of me that just wanted it to be over, for all of the pain to go away. But I didn’t get to make that choice. There was a voice shoving me back towards the surface, telling me I couldn’t go yet. I thought it was the Nogitsune, that somehow I’d accidently bring it back by dying, but it was just my magic. It used my own fear against me to keep me alive. That’s how I got the wolf.”

“Stiles, wha-“ Derek didn’t even know what he should be asking.

“I’m a Spirit Spark, and my spirit is a wolf.” Stiles said gently. “I have the ability to pull in the magic of a werewolf, but I can’t keep it, so I give it back to the land.”

“So dying made you a Spirit Spark, and you have a spirit animal?” Derek asked slowly, not quite sure he was understanding correctly. Stiles huffed out a laugh.

“I guess you could say that.”

“And yours is a wolf?” Derek asked again to be sure of what he was hearing.

“Your wolf specifically,” Stiles said, voice cracking with emotion. “That’s why I have this.” He motioned vaguely towards his back.

“Every Spark has an anchor, something to connect our magic to our conscious, just like wolves on the full moon. Mine is you,” Stiles said through gritted teeth, like he wasn’t happy about it.

“And that tattoo just showed up, right?” Derek dared to ask.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered quietly. Derek’s wolf was positively preening that Stiles magic wanted them as an anchor even when the spark was so upset and angry at them. It meant that somewhere deep inside, Stiles still cared about him, and by extension, the entire pack!

Derek just sat there for a few minutes absorbing the information, basking in the feeling of Stiles in his arms.

“We were lost without you, you know,” Derek started quietly, disturbing the silence as held tight to the spark in his arms.

“We were so wrong to push you away. We knew it the second we realized that you were really gone. I know it was stupid, but neither of us thought you would actually leave Beacon Hills.” He felt Stiles tense and clarified quickly. “We were stupid and you had every right to leave, especially after all the horrible things we said. You- you don’t treat your friends like that.” Derek took a shaky breath and took the plunge. “You don’t treat the people you love like that.” Stiles was absolutely ridged now, but Derek barreled on undeterred. “Theo had us all turned around, even me I’m ashamed to admit, and when we finally realized his ultimate goal I ripped him into pieces. Scott and I scattered them all across the Preserve so he would never be able to come back to life. We learned our lesson with Peter,” Derek said with a snort.

A few minutes of silence passed and Derek waited, but Stiles said nothing, so he kept talking.

“Erika and Boyd told us about Gerard, that night in the basement,” he whispered. “It helped everyone realize how much of a difference you made in our lives, in the pack. God, Stiles, I- we were destroyed when you left! I think that was the worst part for me, other than you being gone was that you were the only one who knew how to fix the pack, to fix any of us, and you were gone!” Derek didn’t even try to control his tears now. “I’m so sorry, Stiles,” he sobbed.

“I want to hate you,” Stiles responded softly. Derek’s stomach dropped.

“I wanted to hate all of you so badly, and I did for a long time. Ask Damien, I wasn’t the most…. pleasant person to be around.” Derek could smell the regret oozing from Stiles’ pores. “I blamed the pack for my dad’s death. I thought maybe if Scott has still been around to bite him he might have survived, but the reality is that he would have died either way. Theo did too much internal damage. And I wouldn’t have wished that on him,” Stiles whispered. Derek nodded in agreement, he knew firsthand how gruesome and painful the bite rejection was.

“I couldn’t believe that Scott didn’t trust me after all I’d done for him, for the pack. The fact that he believed Theo over me so easily really broke my heart,” Stiles said helplessly. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ shoulder, whining in apology. Derek heard a whine from behind them and knew without looking that it was Scott. 

“But now, all I can think about is the fact that we’re all different people now than we were then. I still think leaving was the best thing for me at the time, maybe you guys just gave me the push I needed,” Stiles said, finally leaning back into Derek, who just tightened his arms around him. Derek shook his head in denial.

“We never wanted you to leave.”

Stiles gave a watery chuckle.

“Maybe it wasn’t about what you wanted, maybe it was about what I needed. I needed to go out and define myself as more than just the Alpha’s sidekick and the spaz with ADHD. I needed to find a purpose. And I did, I really did Der. I’ve helped people all over the world. My power has grown more than I ever thought it could and I couldn’t have done any of that if I had stayed in Beacon Hills.” Stiles said softly, his hands moving up to rub Derek’s arms in comfort. Derek nodded silently. He didn’t like it, but Stiles was right. Of course he was.     

“Instead of focusing on how things were without you, we decided we all wanted to be better, to be a real pack. Everyone worked hard to be the kind of people we wanted to be for each other. We learned so much after you left,” Derek said, nuzzling his face in Stiles’ hair.  

“Seems like everyone did a good job.” Derek nodded in agreement.

“I’d like to think so. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t miss you or want you to come home. We really did look for you,” Derek said earnestly. Stiles chuckled.

“You missed me, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked teasingly. Derek’s heart stuttered at the familiar nickname. He nuzzled close again, leaving a warm burn across Stiles’ neck from his beard. He heard the hitch in the human’s breathing and the tightening of his grip on Derek’s arms.

“Yes, Stiles, I missed you, and you were never just the sidekick, or the spaz. You were never just anything, not to me,” Derek breathed into his ear, delighting in the shiver he felt run through the boy’s body.

The smell of want was so strong, Derek felt his gums itching with the urge to bite. Stiles was right here, so close and his wolf was yipping happily at the thought of marking his pale skin. Arousal was pouring off both of them in waves and Derek heard the whispers of the pack as they headed back to the house to give them some privacy.  

He bit the shell of Stiles’ ear softly, rumbling happily when the spark responded with a roll of his hips.

“Do you want this? Me?” He had to ask, because if Stiles was responding to him out of some misguided sense of appreciation or gratitude, Derek might just die.

Stiles turned in his arms and stared intensely into his eyes and Derek stopped breathing.

~~~*~~~

“Sometimes being happy is more important than holding on to past anger.” They shared a breath, and then Derek groaned, pulling Stiles closer and crushing their mouths together.  

Stiles responded eagerly, nipping and biting at Derek’s lips. He fought the wolf for control of the kiss, but he eventually gave in when the feel of Derek’s mouth became overwhelming. He broke off with a whine, panting into Derek’s neck. Derek, undeterred, moved his lips across his jaw and down to his neck, sucking hickies into his skin that Stiles knew would last for days.

He couldn’t muster the will to be disappointed. Stiles moved, wrapping his long legs around Derek’s waist as he brought their mouths back together.

Derek stood, lifting his body effortlessly and Stiles wanted to melt into a puddle of goo at the sheer hotness of it.

He let out a soft grunt when he was backed into the nearest tree, but all Stiles could feel was Derek. The hard bulge in his jeans fit perfectly against his own and Stiles rutted up against it enthusiastically, pulling a cry from Derek.

~~~*~~~

“Stiles!” Derek gasped out. Every fantasy he’d ever had about Stiles paled in comparison to the real thing.

The lustful spark writhed against him and Derek was helpless to do anything except sit back and watch as he came apart in his arms.

Their combined scents pushed Derek over the edge and he set his teeth against Stiles' throat, resisting the urge to bite down hard. Derek combed his fingers through Stiles’ hair, trying to calm the shaking human while they both tried to calm their racing hearts.

He pulled back and smoothed a hand over Stiles’ cheek, catching the wetness there. He brought their foreheads together. He turned them carefully and sat down with his back against the tree, adjusting Stiles on his lap until the spark let out a happy hum. Derek rubbed everywhere he could reach, making sure that his scent soaked through onto Stiles' flushed skin. 

They sat there, on the forest floor, not talking, for a long time.

Derek could barely contain the feelings threatening to burst from his chest. It wasn’t perfect yet, they still had the Isaac and Jackson situation to figure out, not to mention that apparently Stiles lived all the way on the other side of the world now and was losing control of his magic. Or maybe the fact that once they finally got to feel each other they both lasted all of two minutes. But this right here, the feeling of Stiles wrapped up in his arms and the sweet smell of thunder, the soft sounds of the preserve in his ears, this was enough. This was perfect.  

Notes:

Gaelic Translation (I used google, don't judge!):

Feuch an gabh thu ris an ìobairt fala seo agus slànaich am milleadh a rinn mi às aonais agus dèan am fearann seo slàn a-rithist - Please accept this sacrifice of blood and heal the damage done in my absence and make this land whole again

'S e ur beatha- thank you