Prompt: Motorcycle
He supposed it was a natural progression. The black Camaro that Derek had owned for years, lovingly rebuild after it had been trashed in an accident had been totalled, finally unable to keep up with the reflexes of an Alpha. The recurring Hunter damage hadn't helped, of course, but finally Derek had been able to put sentiment aside and retire it.
However, Stiles was unsure of how he felt about the replacement. Once the Alpha pack had been dealt with, the pack had pushed Derek to rebuild his house – to try and get him to move past the fire and his role in it. With a fresh start (and a not unconsiderable amount of insurance money, once arson had been proven), Derek had allowed Stiles and Lydia to contact anyone necessary to bring the house to it's former glory. Peter had even promised them original blueprints.
While they strayed far away from them – no need to bring up more reminders of the past – the resulting house was gorgeous. Without his crumbling mansion to sulk in, Derek turned more and more to his Camaro, preferring long drives in the middle of nowhere, where he was free to take the turns as quick as he dared. If he had gone running, the Pack would have interrupted. Unintentionally for sure, but it would have happened. (None of his Betas understood the need for privacy it seemed).
And when the accident happened, Derek too fast for the car to work with, he was quietly, but completely, devastated. That car had been the final remaining link to Laura and his old pack. The motorcycle was an accident as he ran back to the house. He had always admired them, in the abstract, but to see the freedom of their riders and the speed and control they had – well. He went out and picked up a used Harley which was lovingly restored. Instead of driving, Derek would shut himself in the garage, working on bits and pieces of metal and engine until it purred.
It ended up being the closest thing to forgetting that Derek would have.