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Hope is a dangerous thing. It grows and grows until you’re disillusioned by the fantasy. The unattainable appears attainable. No matter how sound or how grounded a person may be a sliver of hope could very well abolish every ounce of rationality.
Stiles hoped for a lot of things.
Lydia Martin, namely, comes to mind.
He’s delusional with the possibility.
But the most crushing of all hope is the one you never anticipate. It’s all the things you want without willing to admit. In turn, it sets you up for disappointment you are never prepared to face. Because in what universe would someone like Derek Hale ever – well, the thought wasn’t even worth finishing.
But want is a heady thing. Often, it doesn’t even make sense.
So Stiles hoped, beyond his better judgement that at the very least there remained humanity in Derek.
Turns out first impression are generally correct. Derek is a monster after all.
Stiles has to rethink every moment they’ve helped each other in the past and reexamine every memory he’s stored away.
Maybe he remembered chemistry when none existed and read into reciprocated feelings when none were present. Deep in all the dark crevices of his mind he’s always humored the idea that someday, somehow, maybe. How wrong he was.
The Argents are out for blood but somehow Derek has become the villain. All around him, Stiles’ friends lay casualty to war. Scott was no match for the Alpha and Allison never stood a chance. And Lydia…for all that he cares about Lydia, he can’t bring himself to react. Stiles is too focused on Derek, all sharp fangs and anger.
“Are you happy?” Stiles asks, barely above a whisper.
Derek growls in response. Behind him, Erica shifts back to her human form, smirking as she wipes the blood from the corner of her lips. Derek looks away from Stiles to Issac who is struggling on the ground. He groans with every move. Erica helps him up and together they turn to leave the forest.
“Is this what you wanted?” Stiles asks, louder this time. He stalks towards Derek with nothing left to lose. “Are you satisfied now, Derek?”
Erica turns to lunge at Stiles, shifting in the process. She gets thrown against a tree before she lays a hand on him. Derek barks at Erica and the threat is obvious.
Hope blooms like a heavy weight in Stiles’ chest.
“We were never your enemy.” Stiles’ voice breaks as he says it.
Derek is growling, hooded eyes trained on Stiles, angrier by the second.
Stiles is shaking where he stands, heaving as reality sets in. He shakes his head, willing the nightmare to go away.
Derek’s eyes slowly return to blue. He takes measured steps towards Stiles, looking from Scott to Allison to Lydia and halts in the process. As if the severity of his actions have begun to sunk in. Derek blinks, a shadow of regret flashes before his eyes. He opens his mouth but then closes it.
In the distance, the Argents are drawing near.
“Derek.” Erica stresses, demanding. “We have to go.”
He stumbles backwards as Erica pulls on his jacket. One last look and then he’s gone.
Time and time again Stiles has saved him.
But Stiles can’t chase after him. Doesn’t even want to.
It’s too late to hope for a miracle. Nothing could ever right Derek’s wrongs.
The battle lines are drawn. Derek will get what’s coming to him.
And Stiles has to let him drown.