AN: Hello, my lovelies! Well, it's almost October. You know what that means, don't you? Yep. This is my fifth annual Halloween story (and probably my last). Before I shut my trap and let you read, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry that I haven't been updating. I got zero writing done this summer and I'm still trying to work out some sort of schedule for my writing (my real life is...a little different than it was this time last year) so I apologize for the lack of updates from me.
Oh yeah, and oh my god. Teen Wolf. TEEN WOLF, YOU GUYS! I was so adamant that I was not going to watch it. Every time I came across it when I was channel surfing, I would stop, watch and then immediately change the channel as soon as Derek came on screen, because I KNEW TYLER HOECHLIN WAS GOING TO DRAG ME IN. ...I realized, eventually, that I had to stop kidding myself. And now my life is ruined. It's my new obsession. It has taken over my life. I regret nothing.
Also: Hey, hi, hello, old pals. I'm baack! Who else is excited for Supernatural season eight tomorrow?!
Title: this town is only gonna eat you
Summary: Dean and Ruby follow a demon to Beacon Hills, California and somehow wind up playing matchmaker for Ruby's emotionally constipated godwolf and a fast talking gangly fellow who has a nasty tendency to get himself into the most horrific situations. Oh yeah, and that aforementioned demon? Bigger and badder than anyone could have predicted. ...Which is exactly why they should have seen it coming and oh my god, how are any of these people still alive?
Fandom(s): Supernatural (CW). Teen Wolf (MTV).
Pairing(s): Established Dean/Ruby. Pre-Derek/Stiles. Heavy mentions of past Laura Hale/Ruby. Jackson/Lydia. Minor mentions of Scott/Allison and Boyd/Erica. Implied off screen Sam/Spoiler Character from Season Eight (yeah, her). Also, major Derek/Ruby friendship FEELS.
Genre: Drama/Suspense.
Rating: T for safety.
Timeline: Well, a vague future-ish AU for SPN ('cause, you know, Ruby) and probably a vague future-ish AU for Teen Wolf (the teens are all seventeen/eighteen and Derek has finally become the Alpha he likes to think he is and everything is pack and nothing hurts).
Spoilers: General spoilers for all seasons of both shows. Major spoilers for season eight of Supernatural.
Warnings: Torture, mentions of past character death, demonic possession, pretty heavy angst (although not as heavy as normal, for me), pretty heavy sass, and there also might be some serious schmoop.
Notes: Title from the song Bloody Shirt by To Kill a King. I recommend listening to the Bastille remix, because it is fabulous and the theme song for this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
this town is only gonna eat you
Written by Becks Rylynn
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Part One
love that boy
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A growly hunter and a sassy teen walk into a boys locker room after hours.
No, this is not the beginning of a nasty filmed-in-mother's-basement porno.
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Dean Winchester, apparent hunter extraordinaire, charges ahead, towards the sound of running water, face stoic and all business 'cause apparently he does this all the freaking time.
Stiles Stilinski, teenage ADHD sufferer and totally not a hunter, reluctantly hurries after him, armed with a supersoaker full of holy water, rambling nonsense about how many times he's seen The Exorcist and he can so totally handle this, he can definitely handle all of this. He does not do this all the freaking time. You know, if you didn't get that.
And then they round the corner and they both skid to a halt almost simultaneously at the not at all expected sight before them. Almost being key. It's almost because Stiles doesn't quite stop in time and winds up with his face smashed into a wall of Winchester. He lets out a small ''oof'' at the collision and then a yelp as Dean roughly elbows him away.
I mean, come on, was the elbow really necessary?
He gets over this very quickly when he turns his attention to the showers, and then he promptly goes wide eyed and slack jawed, rendered momentarily and uncharacteristically speechless, once again, by Derek fucking Hale.
In the shower, both Derek and Ruby are standing under the hot spray, absolutely soaking wet. Derek is fully clothed, save for his leather jacket, and his shirt is sticking to his body like a band aid, putting all those, actually pretty large, muscles of his on full display and for some godforsaken reason, Stiles notices this. Ruby, however, is practically naked, clad only in her bra and panties, her clothes lying in a wet, ripped heap as if Derek has torn them off of her, which is just like... Yeah, okay, Derek's a dick and all, but really now? Adultery? Dude. Not cool.
It takes a moment, but then the reality of this uncomfortable situation sinks in.
Dean blinks several times, but remains largely unfazed on the outside, although there is a noticeable possessive, threatening, frighteningly-menacing-for-a-completely-human-guy quality to his deep voice when he shoves a warning finger at Derek and says, ''I have a lot of things to say about this.''
Stiles, on the complete other side of the coin, has a reaction that is decidedly less calm and more... Well, Stiles. He's not sure why, and he'd rather not think about it, but he feels an extremely unpleasant and sour feeling in his gut at the sight of Derek and Ruby with their bodies pressed so tightly together, Derek's knee between her legs, Ruby's hands all over him. ''HOLY GOD, DEREK! SHE'S MARRIED! ...AND WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HUNTING DEMONS, YOU ASSHOLE!''
Instantly, both Dean and Derek respond with equally gruff replies of, ''Not married.''
Stiles does not think that is the part they should all be focusing on. ''Whatever,'' he snaps. ''Saying she has a life partner doesn't exactly have the same affect, now does it? How is that the part that we need to have a strong talk about?''
''Stiles,'' says Derek. ''Shut up.''
And then, of course, because this is their life (this is all of their lives), Ruby then lets out a pained moan, a near cry, goes limp in Derek's arms, as if all of her bones have melted, and she vomits a river of blood.
Because this is Beacon Hills, bitch.
Nobody gets out of here alive.
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It all begins on a Thursday night, which is, like, the epitome of unfair because it's almost the weekend and Stiles had been hoping for a weekend off so that he could have a Dr. Who marathon and maybe bake some cookies for the pack because - wow, they are all so less fucked in the head when they have some chocolatey goodness in their wolfy stomachs. But nooo. There's always something, isn't there? Sometimes, he swears he's living in fucking Sunnydale.
Things happened very fast, too. One minute he's headed back to the Jeep, belly full of curly fries, and then someone's grabby hands are all over him and he is pulled back into what is becoming a disturbingly familiar body. A hand claps over his mouth. Stiles thinks that part is just plain rude and uncalled for. He smells fresh dirt and sweat and blood (and oddly enough, a fairly pleasant weirdly coconutty shampoo-ish scent). ''Derek?'' He garbles out around the hand over his mouth, and he should be more freaked out or surprised by this odd greeting but he's not.
''Shut up,'' Derek's voice rumbles, lips uncomfortably close to Stiles' ear. He looks left, then right, and there's a ring of red around his eyes. He is pissed. More so than usual. That's pretty much when Stiles knows that he is not going to get to have a break this weekend. ''Do not say a word,'' is the urgent order.
Despite this, Stiles still rolls his eyes and lets out a string of verbal protests against the hand over his mouth.
''Stiles,'' Derek growls, and tightens his grip until the boy squirms. ''What did I just say?'' He stiffens, back straightening, and he throws a slow, suspicious look over his shoulder. There's a snarl bubbling in his chest. Stiles can feel it. Derek tilts his head back ever so slightly and then takes in a long sniff of the air.
''Oh, come on,'' Stiles whines, voice muffled. ''Can't you at least try to be less creepy?''
''This town reeks of sulfur,'' Derek murmurs, like that weird comment is supposed to mean something, his voice low, predatory, protective and massively unhappy. He makes the mistake of removing his hand.
''Sulfur?'' Stiles echoes, arching a questioning eyebrow. ''Uh, okay, well, I can't really help you there. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that. Maybe somebody made a bad egg salad or needs to change their diet or something. I don't think you need to be Creepy Stalker Guy just because somebody in the town forgot to clean out their fridge or maybe let one rip - ''
Derek is not at all amused.
In a flash, he's got a fistful of red hoodie and is busying himself by shoving Stiles up against the Jeep. Again: Should be surprised, but really not. Stiles is getting entirely too used to being thrown up against or into things by this big lug of a werewolf. It's becoming disconcerting, just how used to this bullshit he is. ''It's a demon,'' Derek says then, halting every thought process ever. And then tacks on a long suffering, ''Idiot.'' Oh yeah, 'cause clearly Stiles is the one with Problems and Issues here.
There's a beat.
''...I'm sorry, it's a what now?''
''A demon.''
''A demon,'' Stiles repeats needlessly and holy shit, he's just going to need a minute here.
Derek doesn't seem to appreciate the fact that he's got his very own echo. He growls impatiently, which - hey, rude, and he presses Stiles up against the Jeep harder, until Stiles is sure he's going to have a massive bruise on his back tomorrow. ''Yes.'' Then, abruptly, something shifts in Derek's expression and his stance and he further invades the bubble of personal space that is clearly completely invisible to him. For a moment, he is much too close to Stiles and the level of discomfort is, like, legendary. But then Stiles hears the unmistakable click-clack of high heels against the pavement and suddenly he gets it and he really, really wishes he didn't. Derek, still all growly and perpetually grumpy, huffs angrily, like he's honestly offended that a demon (ohholyfuckingshitademon) has dared to invade his town. ''And it's here,'' he finally finishes in a quiet breath.
Slowly, bodies tense, they both turn their heads to the incoming beastie. Derek's body is tight and intimidating, like he's about to go to war, wolf about 2.5 seconds from making a roaring appearance. Stiles is less angry and more frightened. He has no idea what to expect and is currently trying to brace himself for ugly nastiness, heartbeat going crazy, breathing erratic because that's what pure fear does.
But then they see the actual demon and it's all very anticlimactic.
Kind of disappointing.
Stiles had been expecting scales.
Yeah, not so much what you would expect.
Ever.
Stiles blinks in surprise. ''Oh my sweet baby Jesus, it's Buffy.''
She is, surprisingly, just a girl. (But then again, that's what they said about Buffy, too.) Not a girl, exactly. A woman. Stiles thinks it would probably offend her if he called her a girl. She's blonde, average height, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a fitted red leather jacket thrown over top and she's standing there - arms crossed, smirk on her lips - like she's Queen of the Damned. Actually, she's pretty hot. She's hot like burning. Like Lydia and Derek hot. Like - Did he just think of Derek as hot? Blondie looks more like Black Canary than some evil hell spawn. Then again, most of the time Derek looks more like some sort of modern day Greek God than a terrifying creature of the night, and where in the hell did that thought come from?
Good Lord, he needs to cut back on his dosage.
She stands in the shadows silently for an unnerving stalkerish amount of time, lips curled up into an honest to God soft smile, and then she speaks. ''Well.'' Her voice is quiet and raspy and it shouldn't be intimidating but it is. ''Derek Hale,'' she says.
And Derek sort of just crumples. Which is unexpected. To say the very least. His entire body relaxes and he lets go of Stiles, hands falling limply to his sides as he stands there and stares at the woman across from him in disbelief. A look passes over his usually grouchy face, something between relief and sadness and joy, and then suddenly Derek looks very young and very tired, with bags under his eyes and weight on his shoulders. It's the most human he has ever appeared to be. He looks... He looks... He looks vulnerable.
It is not a look that Stiles has ever associated with the 'grr, I hate everyone and everything and shut up, Stiles' badass Alpha before.
Derek says her name quietly, hoarsely, like he hasn't spoken it in so long and it's unbearably painful to say. ''Ruby.'' He nearly chokes on it, and Stiles feels like he's intruding somehow.
The smile on her face falters and morphs into a guilt that is so potent it practically bitch slaps Stiles across the face. ''Look at you,'' she says fondly, sadly, full of apologies and rough, raw emotion. ''All grown up.'' She pauses. Takes a hesitant step. ''You look so much like Laura, Derek.''
Which, whoa, okay. Stiles' eyes widen to twice their size. Even Scott knows not to talk about Derek's sister and Scott's... Scott's adorable and he means well. That should really explain it.
At the mention of his sister's name, Derek's fists clench in a way that looks painful and he makes a strangled half growl, half gasp noise in the back of his throat. He narrows his eyes at 'Ruby' and when he speaks again his voice is deeper and almost accusatory. For some reason, he still manages to sound like a scared traumatized little boy. (As weird as it is to think of Derek as a lost little boy... Stiles supposes that's exactly what he is.) ''Where have you been?''
The big bad demon recoils, and then she sort of loses her shit. She strides forwards, right at Derek, without an ounce of hesitation (brave brave warrior woman), and then she does this weird thing where she leans up and wraps her arms around him and - holy crap, it's a hug! Someone is hugging Derek! And he is not savagely tearing them apart! The mysterious 'Ruby' chick holds him in her arms, purposefully and blatantly ignoring how awkward his body language is, and she whispers brokenly, full of sorrow and guilt, over and over, ''I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry.''
And then Stiles' mind is completely and utterly blown to shit because - fucking Lord Almighty someone get him an inhaler - Derek is hugging her back.
Well, that's it then.
Nothing will ever shake Stiles again.
He's seen Derek Hale hug someone.
The world must be ending.
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Contrary to popular belief, Ruby had a life long before the Winchesters.
Laura Hale was her life.
She loves Dean, she is with him for good (forever) but once upon a time, before she got sick of waiting around for a war that was taking way too long to get here and went off on her own, there was Laura. Sweet, spicy, beautiful, perfect, fucking fearless Laura. (Dean is actually a lot like Laura, which should probably bother her more than it does.) She was Ruby's best friend, her family and yeah, she was more for a very long time. It's all these years later and Ruby still doesn't know if they were ever togethertogether but all she knows is that they would fight and fuck and love each other until they hated each other and she knew Laura. She knew Laura like she knows Dean.
But it was never just Laura.
With Laura came the rest of the Hale family, and God, Ruby loved the Hale family. She loved them because they loved her back, because they never once saw her as a monster. They just saw her as the girl who loved their daughter and the girl who would do anything to protect the people she loved, and that was enough. She was just like them. She fit with them.
And then there was the fire that took it all away, leaving behind only Laura, Derek and a seriously fucked up Peter.
So, just like that, Derek was her kid. Her's and Laura's. Like a slice of a life they could never ever have. Ruby loves that boy like her own. She taught him how to drive, how to pick up girls, how to remain calm and steady even when the world seemed to be crumbling around you. She held him all those nights after the fire. She tried her best with that kid. Her kid. He was a serious handful, wild and untamed, crazy and beautiful, got himself into so much trouble all of the damn time, but she loved him fiercely. Loves him fiercely.
But.
She won't say she fucked up with Derek. But she certainly fucked up with herself.
By the time the summer of 2007 rolled around, she and Laura had been just friends for awhile, all traces of other things had bled out, and it was working just fine. They'd hop from place to place, city to towns to tiny, tiny villages, from state to state, names after names, highways after highways. It wasn't horrible. She loved them both enough to stay. But she was restless. There was something coming and she was tired of fucking waiting for it, so she left to go find it. She had thought - mistakenly - that she would find those Winchester boys, help them out with the war, and then go back to Laura, because Laura was all she had ever known. (No, really. There was literally no one else before Laura. Not even in her human life. Laura was the first, the very first.)
Of course... Then there was Dean. Who changed everything.
She tried to keep in touch, and she stayed with Laura and Derek in North Carolina while Dean was dead for those four months, with Laura petting her hair and promising her that everything was going to be all right and Derek making stupid jokes just to make her smile, but then Dean came back and after he came back, things changed. Laura's number one priority was Derek, always Derek (and Jesus Christ, she has such a type) and Ruby's had suddenly become, you know, stopping the apocalypse.
She still tried her best, but it was different. She was torn between two families, two lives, her first love and her new love. She doesn't think she ever chose one over the other. They just drifted apart. It's life. It happens. There will always be that part of her that loves Laura and Derek will always be her boy, buuut... Those Winchesters. Those stupid foolish wonderful Winchester boys. There was something about them. They needed her more. Wanted her more. She has, after all, always gravitated towards brokenness. It's her curse in life, really.
Slowly, over time, the calls became more infrequent, more erratic and when she and Laura talked it was mostly about how Derek was doing, like two divorced spouses sharing custody. The Hales met the Winchesters exactly twice and both times were awkward and uncomfortable. When Derek called her, frantic and terrified and angry (always so very angry), telling her that Laura was missing, it had been nearly a year since she had talked to them last. She had every intention of dropping everything and racing to Derek's side. But then Castiel decided to go crazypants and her presence was needed to make sure Dean didn't try to drown himself in the shower. Besides, she had told herself, Laura would be fine. She was Laura. She was always fine. It wasn't as if it was the first time she had run off to get some peace and quiet.
When Derek had then called to tell her that Laura had been killed, that Laura had been cut in half, his voice quiet and broken and child like, she got as far as packing her bags, determined to be with her kid. To protect him. To find out who had killed Laura and rip them apart. But then the realization hit her that Laura was dead. As in gone forever. As in never see her again. Murdered in cold blood. Instead of racing off to California, Ruby broke down on the bathroom floor and didn't get up for three days, officially scaring the shit out of Dean.
These are only excuses, you realize. Horrible, weak excuses. Meaningless bits and pieces, floppy alibis, things to keep the guilt at bay (rather unsuccessfully). She has nothing to say for herself. She should be ashamed. She abandoned him. Abandoned them both. She let him go through all of that shit by himself. She let him think that he was alone. All because...because what? She was too busy? She was too guilty? Too wrapped up in her new life to acknowledge the one she left behind? Sorry. Not good enough.
It was never a conscious decision, never something she set out to accomplish, to become, but somewhere along the line, she became the one person she never wanted to be: Her mother. She is the kind of person, now, who leaves her family behind. To turn children into ashes and darkness and anger. She is the worst kind of evil in the world. Derek is not a child anymore. He's twenty five years old. An adult. And she can't ever make it better. She can't make up for everything she has done and, more notably, everything she has not done.
But fuck it, you know what she can do?
She can die trying.
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When you let someone into your heart, they don't ever go away.
Therein lies the problem.
No matter what you do, no matter how hard you beg, how loud you scream, how angry you get, they will always be there. Like a memory. Like a scar. This is precisely why Derek has stopped letting people into his heart. It's too messy. It's too permanent. Love is weakness, blindness, dangerous. To hell with love, with letting people write their names on his heart in permanent ink, with letting them etch themselves into his broken, fractured psyche. The last time he loved someone, she burned his family down.
Honestly, love is such a ridiculous concept, anyway.
Derek doesn't need it.
He doesn't need anyone.
Ruby, however.
She is already there. In his heart, mind, soul, body. Impossible to wash away. Written on his skin like Laura was. Like his mother and father and everyone else who burned. Ruby is a nerve ending. As much as it pains him to admit it, he kind of needs her. He needs her like he once needed his mother or Laura. He really fucking hates that. Needing. It's insipid.
He'd much rather be alone. (Except for the part where he wouldn't.)
His pack is annoying and they're always constantly making his oh my god, this cannot actually be my life what the actual fuck face come out. For starters, the wolves are the dopiest creatures he has ever known: Scott is hopeless, Jackson is a dick, Isaac is more damaged than he is, Erica is Fatal Attraction, and Boyd used to be mostly all right until he started mooning over Erica and turned into Scott 2.0. And the humans. Fuck those humans. Lydia scares the crap out of him, and Stiles just... Stiles... The kid - that stupidly, foolishly, unflinchingly loyal boy - just keeps on coming back and coming back no matter what happens to him and goddamn, he's just a boy, he's a kid, he's underage...and he has no idea what the hell he's doing to Derek just by caring.
Sometimes Derek thinks he shouldn't have come back. Shouldn't have offered to be Scott McCall's wolfy Yoda. Shouldn't have killed Peter to become the Alpha. Shouldn't have gone around biting every stupid teenager who asked him for it. Shouldn't have wanted and craved the things he wanted and craved. Other times...
Other times (most of the time) he thinks Stiles should have let him drown.
He wasn't always like this. There aren't a lot of people who are born with this much pain. There is a part of him that thinks it's important to remember that.
Once, he was a real boy.
He had dreams, goals, he wanted things from life, he had a family with actual people and not just ashes. He wanted to be a teacher. He wanted a family. A mate. He wanted a life and a love like his parents had. He used to write. Not poetry, not songs, not epic novels, he didn't wax lyrically about the meaning of life, he just wrote. He wrote in notebooks, in the margins of the books he read or in school textbooks, on post it notes, on cereal boxes in the morning, napkins, his closet wall, he was the kid who sat in the back and wrote on his jeans because he just needed to get it down so he wouldn't forget it. He hated forgetting. (Most days, now, he would give anything to forget.)
But that was all before the fire, back when he had a mother and a father, cousins, aunts, an uncle who was not stark raving mad, a little brother (and oh god, Will - he would be fifteen now), and a real life made of happiness and love. Back when Ruby and Laura were deep in their ''die without you'' stage of their relationship, and Derek's biggest problem was the next game or passing calculus. That was all before Kate. Before he got his family killed.
Because that's what happened. He knows that. It doesn't matter what Laura and Ruby tried to drill into his head. He killed his family. His mother, his father, Aunt Serena, Joey, Lena, Aunt Brooklyn, Will, little baby Graciela, who was fucking two years old. He killed each and every one of them, and now he is paying for his sins.
And then there's Ruby, again, and shit.
She's going to open every stitch and make him bleed out the poison, isn't she? She's going to try to fix him.
Fuck.
Can't a man suffocate in peace?
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The Hale house is no longer a shell.
There is paint, pictures, furniture, clothes strewn about, food and water and electricity. Indoor plumbing. Stiles keeps bringing casseroles and baked goods, Isaac's lacrosse gear is always on the floor by the door, Jackson won't stop buying them electronics, Erica's music is always blasting, Boyd is perpetually grocery shopping, Lydia's shoes are fucking everywhere - and how many pairs of shoes can one girl own? A question he has asked numerous times, only for Lydia to give a smack in response, that crazy redheaded whatever she is. Even Scott's started showing up in the mornings, frantic and panicked as he yelps out a, ''Derek! Please tell me you've seen my homework, ohmigod, this is sooo bad. That's half my grade! I think I'm having some sort of werewolf panic attack! Talk me down! Talk me down!''
It all irritates the shit out of Derek.
Slowly but surely, these little runts are turning this house into a home. It is truly the most unnerving thing that has happened since he came back to Beacon Hills.
Ruby, being Ruby, notices all of this as soon as she walks into the house. ''Wow,'' she whispers, sad smile on her lips as she remembers. Other than sulfur, she smells like salty, sharp tears. She spins in a slow circle and then flicks her hair and her lips curl back into a brilliant, breathtaking grin. ''I love it,'' she declares, but she still smells like acrid grief and guilt, and she's not fooling anybody.
Derek licks his lips and looks around the room uncomfortably. ''I don't,'' he says.
Ruby laughs then, a sound he hasn't heard in a long time, and he shudders lightly. She moves past him, body brushing against his, and as she goes, she reaches up to touch his cheek, gently raking her fingernails through the maybe-getting-too-thick stubble. It's an affectionate, loving, maternal touch, something he hasn't had since Laura and he almost - almost - leans into her touch and closes his eyes. Werewolf or not, bodies crave physical contact. People crave human touch. He sucks in a sharp breath and clenches his jaw, glaring down at her instead. ''You're such a terrible liar, baby,'' she giggles, and lets her hand fall away.
Seriously, though.
What's it going to take to get her to stop calling him that?
''So,'' she hops up on the empty bookcase that Lydia bought and Jackson and Boyd put together, and crosses her legs. ''How many times have you been arrested since I last saw you?''
Derek actually smiles a little at that. ''Ballpark?''
She clicks her tongue. ''Oh, Derek,'' and that's her 'Derek's been expelled from college for fighting' voice.
There's an odd squeaking noise from the couch and then Derek is all too aware of Stiles' presence. He had never forgotten he was there because, well, let's face it, the guy stinks (like something indescribable and so uniquely Stiles) but suddenly, Derek realizes that Stiles is five minutes and one more Mom-voiced ''oh, Derek''away from seeing a Hale-sized breakdown. The thought is terrifying. It's unacceptable.
''This is just,'' Stiles breathes, but doesn't finish. ''My brain can't even comprehend this,'' he admits. ''You!'' He points a finger at Derek. ''You have friends! It's like I don't even know you! What's next? A secret lovechild?'' Then, at Derek's non reaction, gasps loudly. ''Oh, shit. You totally have a secret lovechild, don't you?''
''Not that I'm aware of,'' Derek responds. ''And Ruby was never a secret. You just never asked.''
''I asked about your past lots! Lots!''
''Then you didn't ask the right questions.''
''Okay, Mr. Cryptic. Man. Man! I can't believe you... I didn't... I never thought it was... You have friends!'' Stiles cries out incredulously, and then almost immediately backtracks when he sees Derek and Ruby's matching scowls. ''I mean. It's not like it's unbelievable or anything. I'm certainly not implying you can't have friends. Why would I do that? Especially when you're so terrifying. Of course you can have friends. Why wouldn't you have friends? Even serial killers have pen pals. ...Not that I'm saying you're a serial killer. Despite your largeness and your full moon problems, you do, admittedly, have a disturbing level of weird James Dean-esque charm.''
Derek raises an eyebrow.
Stiles looks horrified.
''Oh, god. Not that I've noticed your charm.''
''Honey,'' Ruby says, and Derek stands straight. ''Your boyfriend talks. A. Lot.''
Pause.
Looong pause.
''My what?''
''Yeah, his what? Listen, lady, I don't think you understand the relationship we have. Which is none. At all. Ever. None whatsoever. We barely even look each other most of the time.''
Ruby doesn't look even a little convinced.
Derek has no idea what his reaction to this should be. Horror and loud indignant shouts come to mind.
''I'm serious!'' Stiles cries. ''You don't believe me! Derek, she thinks we're a couple! Don't you have something to - ''
Derek snaps his head around to the door. There's somebody outside. He sighs. Naturally.
How is this his life?
''Oh. Derek,'' he feels Ruby tugging at his sleeve. ''Derek, it's just - ''
Derek smells him before he shows his face. Ashes, desperation, cheap soap, salty tears, pure misery, and alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Too much alcohol. He lets out a sharp growl of displeasure before the door even opens. Then, smirking like the asshole that he is, Dean Winchester breezes through the door like he owns the place.
Bastard.
His eyes light up when he sees Derek. ''Hey, kiddo!'' He greets brightly, like a step-parent trying way too hard. He claps Derek on the back and it takes every ounce of self control not to rip his pretty red heart out right there. Dean's smirk shifts into something darker, crueler. His eyes glint. ''So,'' he says. ''Puppy. You still pissed at me for stealing your red hot mommy away?''
''Dean,'' Ruby snaps.
Derek says, flatly, ''Fuck yourself, Dean.''
Ruby heaves a sigh. ''Derek.''
Dean laughs, tilting his head back and exposing his neck, which is the stupidest thing he could have done while in the presence of a werewolf who hates him. The wolf inside wants bloodshed so badly right now that it hurts. It's unnerving. Derek was born, not bitten. He and his wolf are not separate. But there is something about Dean that makes him split right down the middle. ...It's probably because Dean is possibly the biggest smarmy asshole that Derek has ever had the pleasure of meeting. Still laughing jovially, as if Derek has told the best damn joke ever, Dean struts over to the couch and plops down next to Stiles, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
''Get your feet off of my coffee table,'' Derek orders. ''Now.''
Dean raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, but complies when Ruby sends him a withering look. ''Heh,'' he huffs. ''Admit it. You're startin' to like me, aren't you, wolfboy?''
Stiles looks caught somewhere between horrified and immensely curious, hugging a pillow to his chest for protection. And then he reaches out a bony finger and pokes Dean on the neck. Ah, so the curiosity won out, huh?
Dean blinks and turns to Stiles. ''Do I know you?''
''Fuck,'' Stiles gasps out. ''You're real.''
''Well, I ain't a hologram.''
Stiles looks helpless, flinging a look at Derek. ''I thought for sure I was having some sort of trippy dream.''
Derek facepalms. ''Stiles,'' he says.
''I have to tell someone about this.''
Growl. ''Stiles.''
''Or I could shut up. Shutting up works too.''
''Great.'' Dean spares one last you are the strangest person ever look at Stiles. ''Now,'' he says, voice firm and gruff, turning his attention back to Derek. ''Did Ruby tell you about the - ''
''There's a demon in Beacon Hills,'' Ruby says.
''Uh. Yeah,'' Stiles says. ''You.''
Dean rolls his eyes.
''Okay,'' Ruby says slowly. ''There's another demon in Beacon Hills. One who is most certainly not as nice as I am.''
Derek folds his arms over his chest and figures he should have seen that one coming. ''Oh, so that's why you're here.''
She looks hurt. ''That's not the only reason I'm here,'' she says quietly. ''I'm here for you.''
''Don't call me baby again,'' he bites out, before she has a chance to say it. He decides to look at the floor instead of her eyes.
''Yeah, yeah,'' Dean gripes. There is hesitance and anxiety rolling off of him in waves, masked by indifference and carefully calculated impatience. He drags himself to his feet, looking like the worn out and tired human that he is. ''We can do the touchy feely crap after we gank this bitch, yeah? Look, kid.'' Ruby sends him a sharp look. He tenses. ''Derek. There's a nasty little bitch ass demon in your town.''
''We followed it here from L.A.,'' Ruby supplies.
''Mmmhmm,'' Dean nods, looking unhappy. ''It ruined our anniversary weekend, you know. We went to motherfucking L.A. - I hate L.A. - to fuck and sleep, and instead we wound up following a sulfur soaked trail of bodies to this bumfuck podunk town in the middle of the goddamn woods - I hate the woods, too - which, by the by, is your territory, so...'' He beams, all sunny and bright. ''Know what? Put on your big boy pants, quit your brooding and tell your friggin' Avengers to assemble, Bruce Banner. We got work to do.''
Derek ignores most of what Dean has said and flicks his eyes over to Stiles, sitting on the couch typing away on his phone animatedly. Somehow, he doesn't think calling a pack meeting is going to be a problem.
Stiles looks up like he can sense Derek looking at him and his fingers halt. ''Uh. Um.'' There is a light blush creeping up his neck, coloring his cheeks pink. ''...Hi.'' He waggles his fingers in an awkward wave.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
''Well, come on! Of course I'm going to text them! What did you expect?! Do you know me at all?!''
.
.
.
Okay, yes, so Stiles may have sent out a mass text to all pack members ('cept Allison, who still has some pretty heavy Derek issues - even though it's been a year and honestly, she should seek some therapy or something, because all that anger cannot be healthy) but in his defense: they were going to find out anyway! They're Pack! It's not like he told a bunch of strangers. Why would he tell a bunch of strangers? That's just stupid.
The responses are almost instantaneous.
Mere moments after Stiles abuses the caps lock button and sends the text (DEREK HAS FRIENDS! I REPEAT: DEREK HALE HAS FRIENDS! I'M NOT KIDDING! THEY'RE NOT EVEN IMAGINARY!) his phone is blowing up with replies.
To: Stiles
From: Scott
no way! 4 real?!
To: Stiles
From: Jackson
you're shitting me
To: Stiles
From: Boyd
is it the blonde from the pictures?
To: Stiles
From: Boyd
shes hot
To: Stiles
From: Erica
boyd says shes hot. I WILL RIP HER THROAT OUT IF SHE TOUCHES MY MAN
To: Stiles
From: Isaac
You mean Ruby? Dude I think she's his MOM
To: Stiles
From: Lydia
Everyone has friends, Stiles. Don't be presumptuous. It's unbecoming.
To: Stiles
From: Erica
but did he cry? tell me he cried
To: Stiles
From: Isaac
She was his sister's GF. I know things
To: Stiles
From: Jackson
no seriously stilinksi. you're shitting me right?
.
.
.
end part one
AN: Yes. This is happening. Just FYI: I don't exactly see this story being finished by Halloween. It'll probably go into November (and it'll have about ten chapters) but it will be finished. I pretty much have every chapter mapped out. I just have to finish mapping out the last couple chapters. Anyway, the story behind this story is basically: Ruby is (and always will be) my number one favourite character on TV, and Derek Hale is my new best friend and it kills me that both characters are so utterly and completely alone. So I gave them each other, and I gave them families. Because I am a sucker for family.
Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! I am now officially nineteen years old and am celebrating with Teen Wolf and Supernatural. Sounds about right to me.
Up Next:
Dean and Ruby meet the Hale pack. ...Sass happens.