Chapter Text
Derek heard the groan of metal bending before he realized it was coming from the wrench in his hands that he was unconsciously twisting out of shape.
Growling in frustration, he attempted to bend it back but it was no use. This was the seventh tool in the last month—the fourth in the last week—he’d broken because he wasn’t paying attention to his own strength. He was at least grateful the garage was empty so he didn’t have to explain to his co-workers how a normal man could bend metal like Superman. The last time that happened he only just managed to convince the other guys that the muffler he crushed had gotten stuck between two other pieces of machinery. They hadn’t completely believed it but from the whispered conversation he overheard later they just though he might be on steroids. That was as good of an excuse as anything else. It also helped explain his anger issues as of late. He didn’t care if they thought he was on steroids. As long as there was never even a hint of something supernatural, he didn’t care what they thought of him.
Only a few of them actually thought he was on steroids. The rest of them just thought he needed to get laid. Not that they would ever say that to his face. They all wanted to keep their jobs after all.
Derek owned the repair shop. Mike’s Motors: Repair Shop. There was no Mike. It was something Peter came up with. He said it was catchier for people to remember and would help him in not having to deal with idiot customers who asked for the manager for stupid questions that any one of the other mechanics could answer. He didn’t know if the catchier name actually got him more customers but it sure helped with idiot customer. They got about ten calls a day all asking for Mike, most of which were only about the price of an oil change. Whenever they got one of those calls they just passed it off to any of the available mechanics and Derek could work on the cars in peace.
He didn’t really need a job. After the fire the insurance from the house and his parent’s life insurance money was enough for Peter, Laura, and him to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, especially after Peter—a formal Wall Street Banker—had invested half of it conservatively. But Peter had insisted that he and Laura go to college and that they then both got jobs. It would give them something to do all day and help them stay in touch with the local community. The latter was particularly important as they didn’t want people to start wondering what they did out in the woods all by themselves. You could forgive your neighbor’s quirky behavior but the wealthy recluses alone in their house out in the woods was just fodder for all sorts of gossip and speculation. He couldn’t fault Peter’s logic in that.
They hadn’t finished high school but had tested out instead and gone to college early. Laura went to school for journalism and currently worked for the town’s local newspaper, the Beacon. Beacon Hills wasn’t a big enough town to have their own local TV news station so most people still got their local news from the paper. Laura mostly maintained the paper’s website for the younger generation that might be interested in what was going on in town and wrote the occasional article. She liked her job and it always helped to have someone in the press to control a story if anything supernatural happened in town. Peter even kept a scrapbook of all of her articles that were published.
Peter spent most of his time in the herb garden or in his laboratory on the ground floor of their house, working on his wolfsbane antidote. That was another good reason to be out of the house most days as some of his concoctions could stink up the whole house. Or he would want to use Derek as a test subject. And Peter made regular visits into town to buy gardening supplies and speak with the owners of the local plant nursery. He was known around town as a bit of an amateur horticulturist. Peter also did a little daytrading on the side, to keep his investment skills sharp.
Derek had gotten a general business management degree and then had no idea what to do with it. He’d always liked cars and was good at fixing them up so he got a job at the local mechanic’s shop. He quickly started to butt heads with the moron who owned the place and quit, not even two months after being hired. Then he opened his own garage. Business had been slow in the beginning but it wasn’t like he was doing it for the money. At first it was just friends of Laura’s, who were probably bullied by her into coming to get their car fixed, or bored housewives, who probably showed up more to watch Derek than to actually get their cars fixed. After a few months, word started to get around that he did good work and didn’t price gouge like his former employer. Soon after that he put his old boss out of business and hired a bunch of the guys he used to work with.
So he owned the whole shop and didn’t really have to be there afterhours working on minor stuff. But work was the only thing that could distract him even a little bit right now.
Distract him from Stiles.
It had been two months, one week, and five days since Stiles went away to college. That’s how long it had been since he’d seen Stiles. Skype didn’t count. Talking through a computer wasn’t the same as seeing someone face to face. You couldn’t smell someone through a computer, couldn’t touch them. Cell phones were no better. There was just something about the distortion of Stiles’ voice through the tiny speaker that got on his nerves. He wasn’t good at speaking to people when they were right in front of him, let alone miles away.
Neither of them had ever spoken about the night he had helped Stiles with his heat but it was always there, lurking underneath their every interaction. Derek tried not to think about it at all but the memories of that night would creep up on him. Mostly when he was in the shower or when he was alone in his room.
At least it isn’t awkward between us.
Stiles had avoided him for a week after his heat, for which Derek was grateful. A week was how long it took for his own scent to fade from Stiles’ skin. If Stiles had been around him still smelling of his scent, Derek wasn’t sure he would have had the control to keep from jumping Stiles again.
That week was also filled with Laura yelling at him for not telling Stiles how he felt or even asking him out on a proper date. Even Peter had been exasperated with him. He just couldn’t bring himself to admit to them that he had given Stiles a claiming bite and he had rejected it. Thankfully, they let it drop once Stiles came back
After that they had just gone back to how they were before it had happened. Stiles finished high school as the Salutatorian, second only to Lydia Martin. Peter, Laura, and he had sat with Stiles’ dad as they cheered when Stiles’ name was called and after his speech. A week later, Stiles’ eighteenth birthday had arrived, along with the time to tell the Sheriff about being a werewolf.
The Sheriff had been a little skeptical at first, thinking it was some kind of elaborate joke that Stiles had roped them into helping with. To be fair, knowing Stiles and Peter’s history of practical jokes, it wasn’t that farfetched of an idea. His skepticism had dried up immediately when Stiles transformed right in front of him. Just like Stiles, his dad had a million and one questions to ask about werewolves, ranging from the full moon to silver and beyond.
The Sheriff relaxed a little once they made it clear that werewolves were not killers and that, at most, Stiles would run around the Preserve a few times a month howling at the moon. Other than that, he was still the same Stiles he had always been. Only now, he had enhanced senses, strength, and healing. The Sheriff perked up a bit when they mentioned the healing abilities and had grilled Peter thoroughly on their extent. When Peter mentioned that werewolves are impervious to cancer, the Sheriff had squeezed Stiles’ shoulder affectionately.
The Sheriff wasn’t stupid; he knew they’d been laying out all the good points to being a werewolf first. He listened carefully as Peter explained about anchors, controlling the wolf instincts, and how dangerous it was to be a wolf without a pack. When they explained about hunters, he figured out even faster than Stiles that the Hale fire was no accident.
“So you and your family didn’t do anything to warrant the hunters to attack you like that,” the Sheriff said in interrogation mode.
“Dad!” Stiles cried out in a mixture of horror and embarrassment. “How could you even say that?”
“No, it’s a fair question,” Peter had answered calmly. “You’re a police officer, you have access to the town records, how many murders or suspicious animal attacks were there in the years before the fire?”
“Almost none.”
“We were a family and this was our home for generations,” Peter said. “We would have had as much motive to attack other people as any other person in this town, werewolf or not. And I assure you venison taste much better than human.”
The Sheriff was quiet for a few minutes while he mulled it over.
“I was there that night,” the Sheriff said softly. “Just a rookie. No one could deserve to have something like that to happen to them. I just wish they still had the electric chair in California, so that bitch could fry for what she did.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Peter said.
The Sheriff was still a little shaky about the whole werewolf thing but he gave Stiles a tight hug and even accepted an invitation to come up to the Hale house on the next full moon, to see for himself that they weren’t rabid monsters.
After that, it was like a huge weight had lifted off Stiles’ shoulders. He was happier that Derek had ever seen him before and his smile was infectious. Not even the pack gathering being postponed for another year could dampen his spirits. Derek had secretly been happy with the news about the pack gathering being pushed back. It gave him more one on one time with Stiles that summer and he didn’t have to think about another werewolf catching Stiles’ eye.
As it was, Stiles spent nearly the whole summer with the pack training, camping, and hunting by moonlight. Derek couldn’t remember a time since before the fire that he had been so happy.
Then it was time for Stiles to go to college.
Originally, Stiles had wanted to go to the local community college one town over, where Derek and Laura had gone. Derek was a big supporter of that plan. Until Peter pointed out that with Stiles’ grades he could probably get into any school he wanted. When Stiles had answered back that he didn’t have the money to get into any of the really good school, Peter, Laura, and Derek had been stunned. They had plenty of money and Stiles was pack. They had simply taken it as a given that they would help Stiles pay for college. When Peter said as much to Stiles, it sparked off one of the only real disagreements they’d ever had.
Stiles didn’t want them to pay his tuition. He felt like it was charity. They tried to explain to him that that wasn’t the case but he just stormed out of the house. Surprisingly, it was the Sheriff who finally brought Stiles around. Stiles agreed that they could help him pay for college, only if he actually got in.
When Stiles’ acceptance letters for Berkeley came in, Derek was both happy and a little sad. Berkeley was a seven hour drive each way, which meant that Stiles couldn’t come home every night like he and Laura had. Still it was a great school and Stiles would really get the whole college experience if he went there.
A week before he left, they threw him a big party and went hunting in the Preserve as a pack. They also gave him going away gifts. Peter gave him an assortment of his favorite teas along with a credit card to pay for his school books and gas. Laura had snuck into Stiles’ room while he and Derek were out and shredded nearly all the clothes in his closet and dresser. She then took him to about a million different stores and bought him a whole new wardrobe for college. The clothes she got him were similar to his old clothes except there was a lot less flannel and they were much more formfitting, showing off the nice muscle definition he’d developed from running and training. Derek was a fan of the new clothes—for about two seconds—before he realized that the people at Berkeley would also be fans of the new clothes as well. After that, he went for a run, while Laura made Stiles model the rest of his new wardrobe for Peter and the Sheriff.
Derek’s gift had been a little simpler. He did a total overhaul on Stiles’ beloved blue jeep. He ended up replacing about half the parts in the engine, but when he was done it purred like a kitten. He even offered to repaint it a different color but Stiles liked the blue.
Derek had been tempted to stall the repairs on the jeep, in a vain attempt to keep Stiles from leaving. Fortunately, common sense won out and he realized that a rundown jeep wouldn’t prevent Stiles from leaving so much as it would prevent him from coming back as often. Besides, the look of utter joy on Stiles’ face when he took his fixed-up jeep on a test drive was well worth it. It was one of Derek’s new favorite memories. Everything had been so light and happy then.
Now Stiles was away at college and everything was dark again.
It wasn’t just that he missed Stiles—though he did. It was the constant wondering that killed him. Stiles told them all about college in his weekly calls but Derek knew there was a lot that he wasn't telling them. He wondered if Stiles really was enjoying his new classes or if his professors were as horrible as his high school teachers and Stiles was just putting on a brave front for them. He wondered if Stiles was getting enough to eat or if he was having any trouble controlling his wolf. He wanted to know if Stiles missed him even half as much as he missed Stiles.
And, when he was alone with his thoughts, he would even wonder if Stiles though about their night together like he did.
God, did he think about that night. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could see Stiles spread out before him moaning and writhing. He remembered exactly how Stiles smelt and tasted. Remembered how Stiles sounded moaning his name. Remembered all the little patterns of moles he traced with his fingers and tongue. Remembered the two dimples on Stiles’ lower back that his thumbs fit so perfectly into when he held Stiles’ hips from behind. Like Stiles’ body was molded just to fit him.
But Stiles probably didn’t think about that night. He didn’t think about Derek that way.
He had been coping with that and he thought he’d been doing an okay job. That was until a couple of weeks ago. It had been during one of Stiles’ weekly check-in phone calls to the pack. Everything had been fine. Hearing Stiles’ voice again—even distorted by the phone—was like heaven. Stiles had been telling them all about some interesting new assignment, when a voice rang out from the background.
“Stiles baby, stop talking you dad and come have some fun with us.”
Stiles had ignored the girl and kept talking to them but it still ate at the back of his mind.
He was well aware of how attractive Stiles was and had feared that Stiles would start dating at college but it was completely different to hear actual evidence of it.
Ever since that call, he couldn’t stop picturing Stiles with other people. Stiles going out on dates to the movies or a coffee shop. Stiles kissing other people. Stiles having sex with other people.
He tried to take out his frustration by running or working out more in the gym. He was pushing himself so hard that he’d actually gained fourteen pounds in new muscles—which only contributed to the steroids rumors. It still wasn’t enough though. His wolf was constantly howling for him to run up to Berkeley and claim Stiles, but he couldn’t do that because Stiles DIDN’T WANT HIM.
He could deal with that—was dealing with it.
But it was annoying to have to keep replacing his tools all the time because he was still so angry about the situation.
He should have better control than this. He’d been a werewolf all his life and even when he was just learning to control his shifts he hadn’t been this bad.
Especially not around normal people. He scolded himself.
To top it all off, there were Hunters in town.
Peter had spotted them a few days ago, reeking of gunpowder and wolfsbane.
When Peter first told them the news, he had wanted to go after them and run them out of their territory. Peter held him back. That was just what the hunters wanted, he explained. The three hunters in town were young, younger than Laura and him. They weren’t the older, more experienced hunters; they were young hot-heads looking to prove themselves. The flagrant invasion of their territory was just an attempt to provoke an attack so they could justify their kill to other hunters who actually follow the code. Peter didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Instead, he had them wait and prepare for the inevitable attack.
There was no way they could pretend like they didn’t know the hunters were in town. It was a small town and the hunters were being much too obvious about their presence for that. So they pretended to ignore them instead. They went about their lives like they normally would; going to work, going to the store and things like that. They also added a few security cameras around their house. They would have to be very careful about shifting for the next few days (or weeks) until the hunters made their move.
Derek wiped the sweat off his brow and tossed the bent wrench back and his toolbox in disgust.
He hated waiting for something to happen. Hated having those arrogant pieces of murderous scum invading his home. He had been training and preparing to defend his pack and home against just such a thread for years and now his Alpha was telling him to stand down. He knew the reason why but it still made his blood boil. He was being stupid and short sighted but he couldn’t help it. He wanted them gone and Stiles home.
The few times he calmed down and could think clearly he realized that Stiles being away at college was actually a good thing. Peter was pretty sure that none of the hunters knew that Stiles was a werewolf, because there were no traces of their foul stench anywhere near Stiles’ house or the Sheriff’s station. That meant they weren’t targeting him and he was relatively safe. He just couldn’t help thinking that, if Stiles were here, he’d know exactly what to say or do to calm him down.
Instead he was going out of his mind waiting.
While Peter may be giving the hunters a chance to walk away, he wasn’t stupid. Peter had a plan. He probably had multiple plans and back up plans for those plans. The only problem was that Peter wasn’t telling him anything about said plans. Peter and Laura were discussing what to do, while he was stuck in limbo. The only thing they’d told him was to keep calm and act normal. He wasn’t to attack the hunters unless they came after him first. Even then, they told him to only fend them off and get away.
He knew why. If they attacked first then it gave the hunters their excuse. Even if they managed to kill all three of them (which Derek though he could accomplish by himself) then they would have an even bigger problem on their hands. They may be stupid young hunters but they probably came from smart hunter families. Families that would rain down on Beacon Hills and turn it into a war zone, if the big bad werewolves harmed so much as a single hair on their saintly children’s heads. So they had to play this carefully. They weren’t as large of a pack as they had been. Most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins had scattered after his parents died, convinced that they would always have to live with a bull’s eye on their back if they stayed in Beacon Hills.
Derek would have agreed with them before, but things were different now. Peter was still in his prime and Laura and he were fully grown now. They were more than capable of defending themselves and, what’s more, this time they were prepared. Before the fire, they hadn’t paid enough attention to their safety, lulled into a false sense of security by years of peace and quiet. Now they knew, really knew, that there were people out there who hated them, just for being what they were, and would kill them without mercy.
This time they had help in law enforcement.
They hadn’t told Stiles about the hunters yet. He could do anything to help from Berkeley and they didn’t want to risk him doing something foolish. The Sheriff, on the other hand, was warned just a few hours after they had found out themselves. For the most part, he was warned in case the hunters targeted him because of Stiles, though, as the hunters continued to ignore him that became a lesser concern.
Besides letting him know about the hunters for his own safety, letting the town Sheriff in on the fact that there were people in town, who had the intention of killing you, is a pretty good insurance policy. If anything were to happen to any member of the pack, then the Sheriff would know exactly who to look for.
Realizing that he couldn’t get any more work done tonight, even if he’d wanted to, Derek put away the rest of his tools and went to wash up. As he furiously scrubbed his hands, he fought back another wave of rage. He was jumpier and more agitated than normal, even when he took the hunter’s presence into consideration. He’d had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, since he’d woken up that morning. Looking over at the calendar on the wall, he shook his head in denial, as if he could make the idea go away by ignoring it strongly enough.
Once he got most of the grease off of his hands, he started closing up the shop. The entire time he kept one ear on the steady heartbeat a block down the road. One of the hunters had been watching his shop all day.
On the one hand, he hated the thought of the hunter following him. It made his hackles rise. He was a wolf. He stalked his prey. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who was stalked. But on the other hand, if that hunter was here, it meant that he was where Derek could keep tabs on him and not trapping his uncle or sister.
The hunters had been following all three of them, one for each of them, which was kind of a stupid move on their part. The three hunters together could have had a shot at taking one of them down but a single hunter against a single werewolf, who was aware of the hunter’s presence, was a drastically unfair fight, even when you take their guns into the equation. Not that Derek was complaining about those odds.
And that bothered him. Even if they were incredibly stupid, the hunters had to know that they weren’t a match for his pack. The only real chance a human had against werewolves—besides wolfsbane—was surprise, and they’d blown that at soon as they got into town. So, either the hunters were mentally challenged or they had something hidden up their sleeve. And if he had already figured it out than Peter definitely had as well. He just wasn’t telling Derek what he was going to do about it. For now, they were just waiting for the hunters to make the first move.
Locking up the shop, Derek focused on his breathing and heart rate. He managed to make it to his car without growling or flashing his eyes at the hunter who was blatantly watching him from the driver seat of a rental car. It was the hunter with spiky blonde hair and brown eyes.
Not a warm amber brown like Stiles’ He thought. No, it’s more of a dull, mud brown.
He didn’t look like what you would expect of a hunter. He wasn’t hardened and muscled like Derek was. No, he looked more like some artistic college kid. Young and fresh faced. If Derek had to guess, he would say that this was his first time away from home. If it weren’t for the strong scent of wolfsbane on the kid, Derek would have had a hard time believing that the kid had anything to do with hunters.
So much for the rigorous training hunters supposedly put their kids through. Derek thought. He still has baby fat for Pete’s sake. He doesn’t look like he could pass an ROTC class, much less take on a full-grown werewolf.
Starting his car, Derek threw one last contemptuous glance back at the hunter before pulling onto the road and heading home. He put his AC on full blast even though it was a cool night out.
In his Camaro, he would have been able to lose his follower in under a minute, if he had wanted to. Instead, he drove slowly—slow for him at least—making sure to follow every traffic law there was. Even the world’s worst detective would have been able to follow him. Not that it would take a detective to figure out that he was headed home.
The hunter turned off the road just before the gravel road leading up to the Hale house. The hunters weren’t as dumb as they appeared. They hadn’t once set foot on actual Hale lands. After all, they wouldn’t want to be caught on property the Hales owned, where they could—very legitimately—be arrested for trespassing. No, for now they were skirting the edge of what they could legally get away with.
Testing the waters Peter had said. Derek thought bear baiting would have been a better term.
Not that he let his guard drop at home either. That was just another reason to hate these hunters. They took the one place Derek was supposed to feel the safest and turned it into a prison.
Parking his car in his usual place, he let the car idle and just sat there for a moment. Sticking his face in front of one of the vents he let the cold air wash over him. He took a couple of deep breaths and then turned off the car and got out. He could hear Peter and Laura talking softly inside the house. Their conversation stopped as soon as Derek walked in the door.
Knowing they could hear his elevated heartrate, he quickly reassured them that nothing had happened.
“I’m alright,” he called out. “The hunter was just following me, nothing else.”
He heard Laura give a sigh of relief.
He took his time removing his shoes and placing his keys on the table by the door. He hesitated in the hallway for a few more seconds, wondering if he could avoid them by going upstairs to take a shower. Knowing that would just raise their suspicions even more, he gritted his teeth and made his way to the kitchen.
Peter was cooking dinner—stir fry from the smell of it—while Laura sat on the island counter drinking tea. Both of them froze when the kitchen door closed behind him, sending a wave of his scent in their direction. It only took one look to confirm Derek’s suspicion. One look to confirm what Derek had known and repressed since that morning.
He was in heat.