This isn't great. I'd spend longer on it, rework some lines, add more to it, but it's been two weeks already and I'm not sure I'll ever be completely satisfied with it. Also, the title needs some work.
Anyway, here it is, because a few people asked for a multi-chap fic (though, I do warn you, I have no idea when I'll finish the next chapter because school is a bitch):
When Stiles wakes, the sun is just rising, its rays casting shadows across the leaf-laden floor. The light very nearly blinds him as he blinks away the sleep.
Even through the fog of sleep, he can tell that something isn't right; first of all, this is most definitely not his dorm room back on campus, where he is almost certain he fell asleep not that long ago. No, definitely not his dorm, Stiles decides, shaking wet leaves and broken twigs from his already matted fur. Wait. He stops, backtracks. Fur!? He leaps up, almost tripping over his own limbs as he scrambles to do something – anything! He has fur! And paws! And – holy shit, he has a tail, beating frantically against his back leg! He opens his mouth to shout, but all that comes out is a rather pathetic sounding yelp. Oh, this is not good. This is very, very not good. Verging on bad, Stiles would venture. Because Stiles cannot be a – what is he? A dog? A wolf? A wolf. Of course, he's a wolf. Of fucking course! Stiles is now a wolf, and his girlfriend is now even more of a psycho than he first thought because who in their right mind would turn their boyfriend into a wolf!? Bitch. Witch, Stiles's mind supplies – totally un-helpfully, he may add.
He throws himself to the ground, whining low in his throat. This is the worst thing to happen to anyone. Ever. In the history if the universe … Except then it gets 100 times worse.
There's a strange scent in the air; like freshly cut grass, and wet tree bark, and soil after a light rain. It's oddly familiar to Stiles, making his hackles rise, and he doesn't even want to think about that right now, resolutely ignoring the fact that he even has hackles to raise, never mind that his sense of smell is strong enough for him to even be smelling this. Whatever this is. He rises, still keeping his body low to the ground, and turns towards the source of the smell. He has no idea what he's doing but he trusts the instincts that tell him to keep low, to keep alert, to listen.
Twigs cracking, leaves rustling, paws pounding, the sounds growing louder, clearer, as they advance in his direction. The wolf hurtles out of the trees and practically leaps at Stiles, growling and snapping at him, and Stiles takes a tumble as he attempts to step backwards in shock because "Derek!?"
It comes out as a whine but Derek seems to understand, because he stops trying to rip Stiles's throat out and tilts his head, fixing his eyes on Stiles's own. He sniffs cautiously at the air, eyes narrowing, and if Stiles were human he'd be cooing over that expression because god, that's adorable!
Derek has always been his favourite of the Hale pack – the largest of the two packs that occupy the reserve. Stiles has been volunteering there since he started college, when Derek was just a pup, and it had been love at first sight for him. Derek was so so different from his siblings, with his black fur and his green eyes, always trailing along after the others. Laura had been the closest to Derek, and – by extension – closer to Stiles. He'd grown so fond of them, and Derek hadn't been like the others – hadn't shied away from humans, from Stiles.
He looks different now; Stiles hasn't been to the reserve in a while, the majority of his free time taken up by school work and his girlfriend. Bitch. No, Derek is bigger than Stiles remembers, though it's not surprising – he must be verging on two years old by now
"Stiles?"
Stiles stares, awed, because he's pretty sure Derek just spoke. Or rather, Derek just whined and Stiles understood him. He has to admit, that's pretty cool. But what's Derek even doing here
"Am I on the reserve?" Stiles wonders, because – depite having worked there for bordering on two years – the reserve is huge, and Stiles doesn't claim to know every inch of it.
Derek ignores his question in favour of circling him, surveying every inch of his new body, nose twitching endlessly. Stiles shifts uncomfortably, eyeing Derek carefully as he finally comes to a stop in front of him.
"You're one of us."
Stiles rolls his eyes, "No shit, Sherlock." He doesn't miss the confused tilt of Derek's head as the wolf apparently struggles to comprehend the sentence, "My girlfriend turned me into a wolf, I'm quite aware, thank you very much. Now if you could just tell me where the hell I am, I can be on my way-"
"Your … girlfriend …"
Stiles sighs, wishing very much that he were still human so that he had a hand to smack his forehead with. Or perhaps to smack Derek's forehead with. He doubts either would work quite as well with a paw, "Yes, Derek, my girlfriend. You know … my partner, my lover, my mate-"
Stiles isn't sure what part of the sentence upsets Derek but suddenly he's snarling, body lurching forwards until there's barely an inch between them. He takes some solace in the fact that Derek seems just as shocked by his actions as Stiles does, catching himself before his teeth catch Stiles's throat and moving away just as quickly as he came. There's a long silence where Derek just glares at Stiles and Stiles just carries on panicking because holy hell he's a wolf!
"Stop it." Derek snaps, "I can smell your panic from here."
Stiles bites back a growl, because he may look like a wolf but his mind is all human, thank you very much, and that is a little too wolfy for him to handle right now, "Have you always been like this? Because now I see why the rest of your pack didn't spend time with you."
He regrets it the moment he says it, because Derek stiffens and chokes on a whimper, backing up a few steps, away from Stiles, and Stiles has no idea what he's done this time, but he can see now that something is very, very wrong .
"Derek." He starts cautiously, "Where are the others?"
"Gone."
Stiles's stomach drops, along with his heart, "Gone." He repeats, just to be sure. He's spent a lot of time with the Hale pack and he knows how much they love Derek, annoying as he is. They wouldn't just up and leave him alone, "Gone where?"
"Gone." Derek says again, and Stiles knows. He understands what Derek isn't saying, but it can't be true, he refuses to believe that they're all gone.
"Not everybody?" He tries desperately, stomach in knots, half-dreading the answer, "Not Peter, Conan, Brea-" He pauses, "Not Laura? Derek, tell me Laura's alright."
Derek whines, and that's when Stiles's heart officially breaks. Because Derek is just a child. He's old enough to take care of himself; he can survive alone … but he shouldn't have to.
"Hunters came." Derek says, and Stiles feels a wave of anger sweep through his whole body.
"Hunters. On the reserve."
Derek bows his head in what Stiles takes to be nod, and this time Stiles does growl, the sound deafening in the near-silent forest.
"Everyone's …?" He can't say it. They may have been an entirely different species, but the pack was his family. They're not … He won't accept that they're … "Gone." He says at last.
Derek bows his head again, "Me and Laura ran-"
"Laura's okay?"
Derek glares, displeased at the interuption, "We travelled to our old den. She returned to look for the others and didn't come back."
"How long ago?" Stiles asks. His head is swimming , his muscles going suddenly weak.
Derek pauses, considering the question. Then, "10 nights ago."
Stiles's legs give out and he moans. He want his arms back; wants to wrap them around the wolf before him; wants to fold Derek into them and never let go, "I should have been here." He says, eyes sliding shut, "I should've been here."
He feels more than sees Derek settling down next to him, head coming to rest on top of Stiles's. Stiles thinks it's meant to be comforting and he doesn't have the heart to complain about the weight.
"When I'm human again, I'm going to hunt them down and-"
Derek's head shoots up again, "You're going to leave." It's not a question.
Stiles splutters as much as is possible for a wolf to splutter and the sounds probably would have been hilarious had his heart not been in pieces, "Wh – I – Derek – I can't … I can't live my life as a wolf! I'm human! I have friends and family and … and school. I have to go back!"
Derek is silent again for a long while, stance slowly relaxing until his head rests on top of his paws, still looking at Stiles out of the corner of his eye, "I'll help you." He says finally, though his tone implies that he really doesn't want to, "God knows you'll need it."
Stiles knows he should be offended but his mouth opens in a toothy grin, and he forgets – for a moment – his anger at his witch of a girlfriend, forgets his anger at the hunters for ripping apart Derek's family, forgets the pain of losing what he had come to think of as his pack, and relaxes against the solid wall of heat that is Derek, his eyes sliding shut once again. He'll just take a short nap. Surely Derek won't begrudge him that, after the morning he's had … right?
Derek feels insanely out of character for me … if we're going by canon. On the other hand, if we're looking at fanon Derek, who - let's face it - is a fair bit nicer than canon Derek, then I think I did okay.