"The torture is almost over; one more paragraph to write and I'm a free man!" Stiles exulted. He looked down at his notes. "Nathan Hale's last words were 'I regret that I have but one life to give for my country', and then he was hung. Hmmm, 'Hale?' You think maybe he was an ancestor of Derek's?"

Scott laughed, but didn't take his eyes off of the new Call of Duty. Stiles knew that the other boy hadn't done his homework and had no plans to; his report card was going to be a nuclear explosion of failure. "Can you see anyone trying to hang one of Derek's family? He'd wolf out and kill the lot of them. Must be different Hales."

"There might be a family connection. I mean, Derek's pretty well-hung…" Stiles grinned while Scott made ralphing noises.

"Lame. And what did I say about oversharing?" Scott flicked his golden eyes briefly to Stiles and then back to the game.

"Dude, you're using wolf-powers on Call of Duty? Now that's lame."

"Who cares... are you finished with that stuff? If this plan of yours is going to work then we need to get to Derek's house ASAP." Scott shut off the game, stretched his arms and yawned.

"Jesus, Scott! Put away the fangs, my Dad is still home!" Stiles heard his father's tread coming up the stairs. Not three seconds later, there was a cursory knock at the door before Sheriff Stilinski popped his head in.

"Stiles, I'm heading to work. I'll be at the office through the holiday, but Mel told me she's having you over. Tell her thank you for me, Scott and that I'll bury her last two speeding tickets when I get to work."

"I will, Sheriff." Scott called out from behind Stiles' upside down history book. He was having trouble banishing his wolf while still high on video-game adrenalin. Fortunately, the Sheriff didn't seem to notice

"Take care boys. Happy holiday." They heard him tread slowly back down the stairs.

"How come you guys never say 'Merry Christmas'? It's always 'Happy Holidays' around here. Political correct much?"

Stiles looked uncharacteristically down.

"My dad doesn't celebrate it. Christmas was my mother's thing, she always went all out. When she died…it just seemed too weird for him to do it without her. That's why my Dad always works and I'm always with you and your Mom."

"Oh." Scott looked abashed, which proved to be the perfect werewolf-banishing emotion. His eyes faded to brown and the fangs and claws receded.

"Well, let's go set up before Sour Wolf gets home." Stiles grabbed his bag of Spectacular Christmas Surprises and led the way downstairs to his Jeep.

"I love it. Sour Wolf. Only you could get away with that." Scott laughed.

"Derek lets me get away with just about anything. He's been so great over the last year, he's not the same grump he was when we met him. He does little things for me all the time to show me he cares, he gave me a key to his new house…on a silver chain no less since I'm going to move in as soon as I graduate. And only I know the secret code of the security system. And it isn't 'Allison'!" Stiles dared him silently to guess the super-secret code word. He'd never get it, no one would ever think of it, but it was Derek's favorite word in the whole world.

"I should hope not. It's probably 'Stiles'."

Stiles turned red and kept silent. Within a short time, they arrived at the Hale house to find the rest of the Pack already waiting for them.

"About time, Stilinski. You know, some of us have lives to get to!" Jackson called out from the second floor balcony where he'd been trying to break in. He had no luck; Derek had the place reinforced against any invasion…it was almost a fortress. He hopped over the railing and dropped the twenty feet to the ground landing neatly on his feet.

"Yeah, glad you could avoid the paparazzi long enough to get here. It wouldn't be the same without you leaning against the wall in 'model poses' while the rest of us do all the work." Stiles grumped at him.

Jackson scowled. "I DON'T do model poses!"

Stiles ignored him and pulled the key to the front door from where it hung around his neck and let them into the house. The alarm gave off its warning buzz before Stiles could get over to it and punch in the 6 button code to deactivate it. He was careful not to let the others see the buttons.

Lydia and Allison came in next laden with decorations, while Danny and Ted lugged in the huge Christmas tree. Scott carried in the bags of presents while Jackson leaned against a nearby wall trying to look unattainable.

"You think Derek will be surprised? This will be his first Christmas in the house since it was rebuilt. I never really heard him talk about the holiday, and he always changes the subject when it comes up." asked Allison, while she helped Danny and Ted get the tree secured into the base. Lydia was adjusting the super-expensive cloth to drape around the base for the presents and Scott started unpacking them. All stopped what they were doing to stare at Stiles in horror when he answered.

"Oh, he'll be surprised. Look…this is sort of the anniversary of when he lost his family. He's really down about the whole holiday thing, so I want to make Christmas something he looks forward to again; I want him to be happy about it since he has a new family to celebrate it with. He rebuilt his house…now it's up to me to rebuild his Christmas."

Even Jackson was pale as milk. "Stiles…have you met Derek? I know he's the Alpha and all, but he still needs years of therapy before he's going to be ready for something like this."

Allison and Lydia looked around as if trying to find an escape route while Scott looked like he was going to throw up from fright. Danny and Ted, who knew Derek the least of all of them as the newest additions to the Pack were nervous just from seeing the reactions of the others.

"Has he ever said anything about celebrating Christmas to you?" asked Allison gently.

"Yes. He said 'never in a million years, no way, over his dead wolf body, and he'd eat anyone who tried to surprise him'. Oh, come on. That's just Derek. He doesn't mean it."

They stared at him. Stiles let out an exasperated breath.

"Look, I'm just tired of never getting to have my own Christmas! Between Derek and my father, I'm doomed to spend it every year at Scott's! No offense, Scott. You're my best friend and all, but this is practically my home now and I want my own Christmas just once!"

None of the Pack knew what to say. Shrugging, they went back to decorating and setting up the tree…but the festive mood was definitely gone. Stiles went into the kitchen and stuck the tray of cookies he'd prepared at home into the oven to bake.

When everything was set up at last, the Pack placed their presents under the tree with Stiles placing his small gift on top of the others. The Pack looked around at the rooms choked with wreaths, holly, mistletoe, blinking lights and inhaled the rich scent of the tree, and the delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies in the oven. A few more minutes and they'd be perfect. This was a Christmas right out of a Martha Stewart magazine. As predicted by the weatherman, it started to snow heavily again (a near miraculous event in California), the beauty of the scene marred only by the freezing drop in temperature and fierce wind that accompanied it. The Pack gazed out the window and pitied anyone stuck out there.

They all heard Derek's Camaro pull up to its usual spot and the hard slam of the car door followed by Derek stomping through the snow and up the front steps. Stiles got to the door and opened it wide (nearly shrieking at the Arctic blast that entered when he did), his heart leaping in anticipation like it always did when Derek returned from a long trip. His heart finished its leap…and then plummeted down through his stomach at the expression on Derek's face.

"Merry Christmas, Der." Stiles said in a funereal voice.

"What. The Hell. Is this?" Derek growled. His scowl was radioactive, flashes of red sparked from his eyes as he obviously tried to control himself.

"We…I… thought it would be fun to surprise you. You know. First Christmas in the new home…" Stiles stopped. The Pack was looking at each other nervously. Derek entered the house fully and looked around at the holiday trappings, before finally zeroing in on the Christmas tree itself.

"There's a tree in my house. You put a dead tree in my house." Derek turned around once more as if trying to use heat vision to destroy everything he saw. "Pack. You are free to go home. Now."

A mad rush for the door ensued with Jackson escaping first. Scott remained in the doorway looking at Stiles with concern. Stiles hadn't moved, just stared at Derek with what felt like a cinderblock in his chest.

"Scott." Derek said in a deadly quiet voice. Scott retreated down the stairs but went no further. Stiles thought vaguely that Scott was by far the bravest of all of them.

"Stiles, you are aware of the fact that my family burned to death in this house six years ago, right around this time of year? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to celebrate Christmas, because oh I don't know…it was too goddamned painful? Does anything besides ADHD inspired lunacy ever occur to you? No? I didn't think so. You can go with the others. Now."

Derek turned his back on Stiles. The younger boy was devastated. He thought Derek might need a little help getting back into the swing of Christmas, but he honestly never thought it would turn out this badly. The idea that he had upset his mate this much was like a knife in his chest. He wanted to tell Derek that he felt just as badly around Christmas because of his mother. He wanted to tell Derek that sometimes the holiday inspired such a black depression and bleak loneliness in him, that if left to his own devices without the warmth of Scott and his mother…he didn't think he would survive it. Scott wasn't going to be hosting Stiles' Christmases forever…and Stiles always felt that the day would come when he would be on his own when everyone else was rejoicing with people they loved and who loved them. Being with Derek…for the first time being with someone who seemed to really love and appreciate everything Stiles was…it gave him a glimmer of hope that he could be like everyone else and be happy. Guess not.

Stiles made a choking sound as his eyes seemed to heat up. He tried a few times to speak, but his vocal cords had thickened to cables and he couldn't get them to work. Even breathing was becoming difficult. He turned toward the door, and began to drag feet that felt like they wore cement shoes away from the only person in the world whose happiness was more important than his own.

"Stiles." At the sound of Derek's voice, Stiles felt his breath and strength return. He knew it. Derek would blow his top, but then get over it and be fine. He would call the others back in and they would have a real Pack Christmas. The tears that threatened before now let loose, but from relieved happiness instead of despair.

"Yeah, Der?"

Derek came up to him and gently stroked Stiles neck. Stiles' eyes closed at the touch of his mate, but then snapped open again as Derek found the chain of the necklace holding the house key and yanked it off.

"You won't be needing this anymore. And the code is being changed." Derek picked Stiles up by his collar, stomped over to the front door and dropped him to the floor of the porch and slammed the door, the heavy deadbolt sliding into place a moment later. Scott ran over to pick him up, then backed away a few steps at the expression on Stiles' face.

The boy's dark eyes were nearly black with some indescribable emotion, his mouth pressed into a thin hard line. Stiles stood up, and stared at a point on the ground while breathing heavily. His face was red, and the tracks of tears (now frozen) were still evident though they had stopped flowing. With one hand, Stiles reached to touch the back of his neck, then inspected the drop of blood on his fingertip.

Scott was getting more alarmed as he watched Stiles face change. The redness turned white except for two spots high on his cheekbones. A vein was pounding in his forehead, and Stiles' fists were clenched hard enough for his nails to break the skin.

"Oh, Jesus Stiles…I'm so sorry man…come on, let's go to my house, my Mom has dinner waiting…" Scott trailed off. Stiles hadn't moved. "Stiles, give me the keys to the Jeep, no way am I letting you drive. Your jacket is still in the house, come on let's go before you freeze."

Stiles reached into his pocket without a word and tossed Scott the keys. Scott ran to the jeep and started the engine, turning the heat up full blast. Stiles hadn't followed him. The wind and snow made it nearly impossible to see anything beyond a few feet away. Scott ran up to the porch, his nose telling him before his eyes that Stiles had vanished. Scott closed his eyes and called up the wolf in a panic before casting about for the scent of his best friend. The trail led down the porch…and then faded into the screaming wind and swirling snow. The scent was destroyed, for all Scott's nose could tell him Stiles had just evaporated into thin air.

"Goddamn it!" he yelled aloud.

Scott ran up to the door and frantically rang the bell and knocked. There was no answer, though Scott thought he could hear things smashing in the house. Scott growled low in his throat. There was no time. He had to try to find Stiles. Scott dug out his phone and called Allison. He told her about Stiles and told her to call the Pack and the police. She agreed and hung up. Scott shifted fully into his Beta form, sighing in relief as his body temperature rocketed. He was still freezing, but it was much more bearable now. He gave one last look at the rebuilt home and made a soft oath to himself.

"Anything happens to him, and I'LL burn your house down this time. With you inside it." Then the young Beta took off in the Jeep, never noticing the shadowy figure that now stood on the second floor balcony regarding him silently.

{}{}{}{}

Derek was able to hold off the transformation right up until he smelled the cookies burning in the oven. With an anguished roar, he went into full Alpha phase and lost himself to rage. When he came to himself a short time later, it looked like someone had planted a grenade in the Christmas tree. It was kindling, and if any of the presents had survived it would be a miracle. Derek stood up, his clothes falling off of him in shreds and went into the kitchen to turn off the oven which was now sending out black clouds of smoke. He nearly went Alpha again, the memories of the fire so vivid in his mind that it felt like he was reliving it. He shut off the oven and used a mitt to pull the tray out and briefly inspected the two dozen cremated cookie corpses of gingerbread men before tossing the whole thing in the sink. Gingerbread men. They just had to be gingerbread men.

Derek went upstairs to his bedroom and got under the covers, the grief coursing through him as he shuddered helplessly. Their faces flashed through his mind, his mother and father, brother and sister, aunt and uncle, grandmother and grandfather, niece and nephew, cousins and in-laws all gone. Only he was left, the last Hale. Laura had identified the bodies, Derek was in no shape to do it. When she had inherited the Alpha power, she knew something was wrong and had flown back to Beacon Hills with Derek…he had come to stay with her for his big sister's first Christmas living on her own. Instead of opening presents, they sat through a mass funeral and burial. Laura and Derek also received mental flashes through the family's shared connection of the pain and suffering felt by the Hales as they died, burning to death amidst flaming holiday decorations. Derek was forever scarred by this, couldn't even think of Christmas without feeling white-hot rage that his family had been stolen from him. Falling in love with Stiles had been an unlikely miracle, but the betrayal Derek felt when the boy went behind his back and tried to force Christmas on him…to shove it down his throat as if to mock the memory of his family…Derek would rather be alone than forgive that. Stiles was better off anyway without him. Derek knew he had to be cruel about it or Stiles would never stop trying to come back. He dimly remembered hearing the bell and knocking while he was transformed, and it was lucky he was too far gone to open the door or Stiles would have been in real danger. He didn't want to hurt the boy, but Derek just couldn't deal with him right now, not after this. He fell into a troubled sleep, the burning scent from the cookies permeating his dreams, only now it was Stiles who was trapped in the fire, struggling through the flames before looking up to see a burning Christmas tree fall on top of him.

"DEEERRRRREEEEKKKKKK!" he shouted

"STILES!" Derek shot upright in his bed, shivering at the reality of the dream, his heart wrenching at the thought of Stiles in danger.

He looked at the clock. It was a quarter to 12. Derek rubbed his face and realized he was sweating, the sheets drenched. A miracle, considering the door leading onto the balcony was open and freezing wind was screaming into the room.

Derek got up and padded to the door, shutting it and locking it tight.

"Wow, little brother. Work out much?"

Derek shrieked and turned to see his sister sitting in the wingback chair Stiles liked to read in. She looked the same as the last time he had seen her. She covered her eyes.

"Clothes. Now."

Staring at her, bewildered, Derek put on a robe and a pair of slippers. He pinched himself. This had to be a dream. Sniffing, he caught the aroma of her perfume, a scent he hadn't smelled in over a year.

"Laura? What's going on? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Good to see you too. I am here, Derek Owen Hale, to tell you that you are in deep shit. Derek Owen…haha you know I never realized before that you're initials spell 'D'oh!'"

"Are you…" Derek walked over to her and touched her hand. It was solid. Tears sprang to his eyes. She was real. "Laura, are you back?"

She looked at him sadly, her usual teasing smirk fading away. "No, this is just a brief visit. The others wanted to come…Dad wanted to kick your ass, and Mom wanted scream at you until your ears bled, so I thought I'd spare you all that. You fucked up, little brother, big time. You gained the attention of powerful spirits that haven't had to walk the earth in over a hundred years, and since you're a werewolf and not a Ghostbuster, you will have to listen to what they say. Do yourself a favor and don't pull any macho Alpha crap with them or they will smack you down. These guys are big shots…got it?"

Derek looked at her blankly. "I don't understand! Why is this happening?"

"What you did to Stiles was inexcusable. He loves you more than anything, and you killed him."

"What do you mean I killed him? He was alive when I threw him out the door! Humans aren't that delicate!" Derek was panicked. Could he have hurt Stiles without realizing it?

Laura shook her head. "You killed what was inside of him. He's been hurt a lot, Derek. The loss of his mother, bullying by kids at school…a father who loves him but is never around…and friends who are all in an exclusive club and happily in love. Then you broke his heart right in front of them…on Christmas Eve. It was too much for him. He's dead inside and very shortly he's going to be dead for real, unless he gets really really lucky. He's somewhere out there in that storm. The Pack can't find him, the police can't find him. Everyone's frantic. And oh boy, are they mad at you."

Before she finished speaking, Derek was walking back to the balcony door, intending to shift and hunt for Stiles and bring him to safety. He wrenched at the handle, which didn't move. It might have been made of stone. Derek struggled with it, but it moved not even a millimeter.

"Supernaturally frozen doorknobs: One; Derek's Alpha Strength: Zero." laughed Laura.

"What the hell are you talking about?" snarled Derek.

"Nothing, something I read once. Listen, which part of 'the attention of powerful spirits' are you not getting? You're not going anywhere anytime soon. They are bound by rules not to hurt you, but oh boy are they going to mess with your head! The first one arrives at midnight, which means…oops! I need to go."

Laura stood up. Derek began to panic. "Laura, please let me out. I have to go find him. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to him!"

"You won't have to forgive yourself. He dies, you'll have a whole mess of problems. We may get to see each other again sooner than you think. Derek…I know you love and miss us…but you aren't honoring our memory by destroying yourself. We want you to be happy! And you were happy while he was with you."

Laura began to fade away. Derek tried to grab her, but his arms passed through her image with no resistance. The last thing he saw was her teasing smile…and her saddened eyes.

He was alone in the room. Looking at the clock again, he saw that it was 11:59. The numbers changed to 12:00 as he watched. Somewhere in the house, the grandfather clock was tolling out the hour. Derek tried the door to the bedroom, and it opened easily. Heading downstairs, he heard a noise in the kitchen. Entering, he beheld a strange woman wearing a Christmas themed kitchen apron inspecting the cremated cookies.

"Hmmm, not his best work. He must have been distracted. That's my boy…distracted." The woman had jet black hair and dark brown eyes. The resemblance to Stiles was uncanny.

"You…you're…" he stammered.

"Stella Stilinski….acting Ghost of Christmas Past. How do you do?"

Derek was speechless.

"So, I understand you threw my son out into the snow when he tried to surprise you with a Christmas party. Can I give you just one small piece of advice?" She looked around as if afraid of being overheard. Derek stepped in close to her. Quick as thought, she drew her fist back and slammed it into Derek's cheek. He flew backward into the nearest wall and slid to the floor, dazed.

"The advice is: 'Don't do that again.'" she smiled at him, rubbing her knuckles.

Derek got to his feet, rubbing his face. "You hit me! I thought that was against the rules!"

She nodded as if at an apt pupil. "I'm also not supposed to come back from the dead. As you can see…I have a flagrant disregard for rules. Ironic, considering my husband. I have a long list of things that are against the rules that I am also prepared to disregard…and I would just love an excuse to try them out on you. Now, will you be a good boy and come along with me?"

Derek nodded. She turned and opened a door in the far wall that hadn't been there a moment before. Derek hesitated a moment, then followed her through.