You're My Sanctuary

by wirewrappedlily

Sequel to Pull Me Home. "Mmm, the highlight of my day was Finstock telling me that being legally declared dead for two months is no excuse for missing lacrosse practice." Sterek, M for mature subject matter. Enjoy.

"You're a Gonzo!" Lydia exclaimed, slapping Stiles on the arm excitedly. "He has no idea what he is, either!"

"Aw, but...Alright, fine; as far as Muppets go, could be worse, I will take it." Stiles slumped against Derek's side, nuzzling into his arm before his eyes burst back open, sweeping over the room as he reached for Derek's hand.

Derek paused the game he was playing with Scott and Jackson, tossing the remote easily to Allison as he turned in his seat to give Stiles his full, worried attention. "Stiles-"

"I think I need more coffee. Jackson? Danny?" Stiles got up jerkily, forcing himself to let go of Derek's hand.

Derek was quick to follow him, and Stiles looked almost disappointed despite knowing it would happen, "No more, Stiles. You think I haven't noticed you haven't slept?" Derek took the coffee cup from Stiles's hands, pinning him against the kitchen counter by the hips, "Stiles, what is going on?"

"I went through hell is what's going on, Derek!" Stiles burst, shoving at Derek. Derek caught both of his hands easily in one of his, holding them against his chest and pulling them close together, pressing his lips to Stiles's forehead as he hugged his shaking, exhausted mate. "Every time I close my eyes, I think I'll be back there by the time they open again."

Derek cupped the back of Stiles's head, kissing his hair, "No. Stiles, how-"

"There's no way to stop it. There's no way to take it away. It's a price for coming back, Derek."

Derek snarled deep in his chest, cupping Stiles's face in his hands and forcing him to meet his eyes, "You are not going to be tortured every day of your life, Stiles. I won't let it happen."

Stiles looks up at him through saucer-wide eyes, and Derek can see the bruising shadows under his eyes, the way his skin is tinged with grey, and his cheeks are just a little more gaunt, his skin ill-fitting. "I don't know how to fix this...I don't think it can be fixed." Stiles is trembling like he's going through an earthquake, and he can't stop a tear from sliding down his cheek as he blinks and hell flashes before his eyes.

"Stiles, please...god, you need to sleep." Derek gives in to just holding him upright and in place, his brain going a mile a minute trying to figure how long it would be before Stiles would start to hallucinate.

"Derek-"

"Oh, tall, dark, and wolfy is not letting you out of his sight, Stilinski. Derek, I'll clear out the cubs, you take the living dead upstairs without him breaking himself?" Lydia breezed into the kitchen, flashing a short smile as she put dishes in the sink, breezing right back out, satisfied that everyone had their orders and they would be followed-or else.

Stiles whimpered at the flip-flop of gravity that came with Derek scooping him up in his arms, tucking his face into Derek's neck, his hand threading into Derek's soft black hair. "Talk to me so I can close my eyes," Stiles begged softly, his mouth muffled against Derek's skin.

He didn't need to worry about that, Derek swallowing before he began to speak, "I'll do anything if it means you'll be alright, Stiles; just tell me what you need, and I'll talk myself mute if I have to. I don't care, I'll do anything. I love you so much." Derek gets Stiles ready to a litany much the same, Stiles's body pliant and sluggish with the care Derek was taking of him. Derek kept a hold of him as he slid Stiles into bed, sliding in beside him, Stiles's body curved around his from behind, Stiles's arms responding, dragging him in as Stiles pressed his face into the space between Derek's shoulderblades, breathing deep the scent of forest and spices and the hard, metallic bite of the tools Derek had been using to help the house heal itself. They don't sleep like this normally, Derek preferring to feel Stiles in his arms, to know that he's safe and breathing. Stiles needs the same, though.

Derek laid there with his hands covering Stiles's over his chest for a long, long time. Stiles's body shuddered and flinched behind him, tiny whimpers sneaking out from his throat as the moon hung low in the sky again, and Derek started to hum to him, tracing his fingers back and forth over Stiles's forearm as the muscles clenched and shook and clung. It wasn't restful, but at least it was sleep.

Most of the ghosts Gerard had brought up have been taken care of; put to rest between either the Winchesters or Lydia and Deaton. But Stiles still watches Derek interact with his mother's ghost, and Laura's, and he bleeds in his heart because Derek's less guilty, less in pain, yes, but the pain's still there.

Laura bullies both of them into trying yoga as a way to help Stiles rest because he still can't sleep. It's kind of mesmerizing to watch Derek, but Stiles doesn't really feel all that rested.

Stiles gets tucked into one of Derek's arms after, and he hadn't realized he'd lost so much weight until that. Derek sits him in the kitchen, on one of the barstools at the counter Derek had put in specifically so that he could keep an eye on Stiles while he did his homework and Derek cooked, and leaned onto the other side, looking speculative, "Obviously, we're having curly fries, but what else can I feed you to fatten you up?"

"You know, something I never got about Little Red Riding Hood is that she's a little girl, you gotta figure that the big bad wolf would've been able to find someone more succulent-"

"Chicken wings."

"-and meaty; someone more worth the trouble of stalking and killing-"

"Steak, of course…"

"-I mean, the effort versus reward on that makes a huge deficit, I don't care what was in that basket of goodies."

"And those doughnut things Lydia's dropping off in half an hour."

Stiles narrows his eyes, "You're not making me have vegetables."

"Object of the exercise is that you've lost way too much weight and you didn't have enough to begin with. I want you eating, so I will give you foods you like and a vitamin to go with them."

"You don't have to-"

"I do have to. I know exactly what it feels like for me with you dead. You're not risking yourself. I will not ever lose you again."

"I will submit to the will of the Alpha-voice only because I'll end up locked in a padded room for my own protection if I don't."

"That's actually not a half-bad idea." Derek smirks at Stiles's look, leaning over to kiss him.

"I will not be put in a padded room."

"No."

Stiles would've continued to see how far he could go before Derek started getting contrary, but Derek knew that already; knew him, and started kissing as a pre-emptive strike. Stiles relaxes into the kisses, humming happily and keeping it going for as long as possible before Derek pulls back to let him breathe, "I'm not leaving again, Derek. I can't; I won't. I love you so much."

"You came back to me."

"I came back to you. I'm sorry I caused you that much pain..." Stiles's hands grip his arm like he can see the wound and empathize.

"I'm going to continue to be overprotective and generally scared to lose you still, but I do forgive you. I know why you had to go."

"I couldn't let them kill you. I knew it'd kill us both if you died, so I had to make sure they couldn't kill you."

"You knew that if you got hurt-"

"You'd be unstoppable. You'd get to me." Stiles told him with utter conviction, unflinching and honest.

Derek crossed around the counter, wrapping Stiles in his arms and ducking his face against Stiles's neck. Stiles leaned into him, closing his eyes tiredly, "What do you dream?" Derek whispered, running his fingers through Stiles's hair in a firm rub, coaxing a high sound out of his lover's throat.

"In Hell...it was physical, but sometimes it was mental, too. I would see myself come back to you, and then they'd tear you away again...sometimes...always, there was something. Something just off enough...I could tell if I looked. Sometimes I didn't want to, I just wanted to be here, I didn't care if it was an illusion anymore. That's why I need you to talk and be close enough to smell before I can even close my eyes. They could fool one sense, but they couldn't fool much more at any given time."

"How would you catch it?"

"One thing or another...you smell like the forest and spices, what you've been doing that day, playing in the rain or working around the house...but they'd get your voice wrong a lot. Make it too soft, use the wrong tone. It was the hardest part…"

"Why?"

"Because I had to fight through it. I had to find my way out. And I wanted it...Derek, I wanted it so badly-"

Derek presses his hand against Stiles's racing heart, moving in slightly closer, "You're here now. You have it; you have me. I'm here. I won't let you go again."

Derek starts pressing kisses to Stiles's skin, fighting the pull of Stiles's panic, trying not to hurt him even though Derek wants to curl up inside his chest, around his heart, and press his promises into Stiles's heart itself, so he'd know they were real. Stiles doesn't cling to him, but it's a near thing, really. Derek rubs his muscles, strokes over tension that Stiles could sing with like a violin. There's a lot of pain they both have to make up for, but this is the worst, by far. Derek wakes up some nights in a cold sweat because his wolf dreams his mate is dead, even though there's a warm body still in his arms. Stiles wakes up screaming and crying some nights, sobbing apologies because he wants to hold it all in and keep anyone from finding out that he hurts, because he's spent his whole life hiding it so Scott, his dad-the people that could be caring for him, would never find out that he was taking such good care of them and they weren't doing anything at all for him. Sometimes the urge to maim Scott for being the clueless asshole he is almost overpowers how mad Stiles would be at Derek for doing it.

"You never have to be alone again, Stiles." Derek whispers, his lips brushing Stiles's cheek, "Just let it out."

Stiles curled at the sound of Derek's voice, pressing into him as though he could bury himself in that perfect skin and live in the complete safety that comes with Derek Hale. Derek knew what it was like to be alone. He knew better than anyone else; he'd protected Stiles from being alone, even before they'd started this. Stiles knew he was safe with Derek; he'd never been safer anywhere else, but Hell was still burning behind his eyes and he couldn't face the thought of needing too much, more than Derek was willing to give, and ending up without him.

Derek's fingers pressed against the back of Stiles's neck, kisses littering his face and neck before Derek ducked his head down against Stiles's throat and just stayed there, breathing. Stiles reached up, running his finger through Derek's hair, holding him close and closing his eyes almost hesitantly. Stiles could feel Derek's heat; his heart thumping, steady and strong, against Stiles's chest; the feathery curl of his eyelashes closed against his neck; the callouses of his hands, strong and huge and sure, but so gentle when they could do so much. Derek was living power-breathing strength. He always had been. Never, not ever had he been trapped as Stiles had been. Never had he lost himself the way Stiles had. The feral urge; the need to fight and bleed and flay with fire and blades was still drawn between Stiles's shoulders; the scars not on his skin, though his eyes could still see them all there. Derek shook against him slightly, his head shaking against his neck, and it was all Stiles needed to be reminded of to open his eyes, hugging Derek more firmly against him and kissing just above his ear. "I want you here with me, Stiles. I need you here with me."

"I'm here. I'm here." Stiles breathed, "I won't leave you again." Derek needed reassurance as much as he did.

That night, they tried, for the first time since Stiles had come back, to have sex. Stiles was choking on fear the entire time, but he wouldn't let Derek stop; forced him to swear that he wouldn't. Neither of them could come; and Stiles finally let Derek pick him up and carry him into the bathroom, sitting down in the tub with Stiles tucked around him, so close there wasn't a breath between them, the tub filling with a thought from Stiles as he shook and tried not to break completely.

Derek runs his fingers over Stiles's arm, curled around himself like his chest will actually fall open if he doesn't hold himself together. He presses his forehead to Stiles's temple, his mouth against the corner of Stiles's, "Don't you dare hold it in, Stiles. Just let go." Derek breathes, his other hand cupping the back of Stiles's head, solid and warm. Stiles cracks slowly, falling to pieces as everything in him breaks under the stress and the pain. He curls into himself more, and Derek curls with him, surrounding him.

It should scare him more. It should feel like he'll be crushed under the strength, but some part of him knows that this time when he comes apart, like all the times he's come apart with Derek, in all the different ways, Derek will be pulling him back together after. Stiles presses his face into Derek's neck, and Derek lets him; trusts him. The wolf loves him as much as the man does. Stiles makes himself think it so hard; breaks every part of himself with the knowledge, hoping it'll scar: He is safe.

Derek touches every part of him because it's instinct, Stiles knows it is; he has to make sure that Stiles isn't hurt in any way, that he isn't injured, because he's pack and mate, and the Alpha in Derek would shred through the diamond-strong control Derek has if Stiles actually carried the wounds inflicted on him. Derek's only been wild, truly, with Stiles in danger. Control was something bred into him, and it was almost unshakable. Every flash of red eyes, every sharpening of Derek's claws or teeth came with threat or will, and Stiles knows that this is something that could blow Derek's perfect control to pieces. When it starts to become a panic attack; when Stiles stops being able to really breathe, Derek moves him finally, turning him so that his back was to Derek's front, Derek's legs bracketing him as Derek wraps him in his arms and breathes, steady and slow, against Stiles's ear and neck, knowing Stiles would pick up the rhythm; knowing Stiles would fight his way out.

Slowly, the shaking stopped, and Stiles could breathe again, dizzy and weak, but no longer living dead. Derek carried him to bed, and laid down, still dripping, with Stiles's chest pressed against his, so they could hold onto each other. "I'm so sorry," Stiles began to chant into Derek's chest, his hands curling into fists to keep from shaking again.

Derek's hand stroked, slow and soft, from the back of Stiles's head to the dip of his lower back, holding him tighter, "No, that's not something you get to be sorry about, Stilinski. Never." Derek clutched Stiles to his chest, rolling slowly so that Stiles was on the bed, the both of them on their sides. Derek angled away just enough to look down into Stiles's eyes, soothing the paths that tears had made down Stiles's cheeks. Derek's closed hand rested between his shoulder blades, his thumb stroking soothingly. Stiles wanted more of that warmth, and as if he'd heard it, Derek dragged the blankets over them. Derek's thumb ran over Stiles's lower lip, his own quirking just slightly upwards, "I was broken and betrayed and beyond repair, Stiles. But you healed me. You saved me. And I love you. I never thought I'd ever be able to again." Derek smiled just slightly, "You never thought I'd be able to again." Derek poked him in the nose, kissing where he'd poked, a fond light in his eyes as he looked at Stiles, making the colour brilliant. Stiles held onto his arm, pressing their foreheads together, stealing soft, fleeting kisses. "You need to let yourself break before we can fix the cracks, I think." Derek's voice was pained, his eyes no less fond but far more sorrowful.

"You don't need to-"

"Stiles, you were yanked into this world, into all this danger and depravity, because your best friend got bitten by a werewolf and turned into one himself. You could have walked away; if you were anyone less than you, I have no doubt you would've. I need to do this; you need to let me."

Stiles rubbed the backs of his fingers behind Derek's ear, his thumb over Derek's sharp cheekbone, "Since when have you gotten loquacious?"

Derek smiled slightly, his eyes still too tight, "It was quiet when you were gone." Stiles makes a pained sound, kissing him hard and luxurious, pressing himself against Derek's body like he could be given some of Derek's strength. "You need to know, Stiles. You have to know. I would never shut up if it meant I got to keep you. So you have to know everything, Stiles. I need you to."

Stiles nods slowly, "I can't tell you...I can't tell you everything."

Derek nodded, kissing his nose again, "I spent three days drinking with Dean Winchester: believe me, I know." Stiles guffawed, laughing helplessly at the image.

"All that stubble and guilt in one room? Were you trying to end the world?" Derek growls at him, narrowing his eyes, and Stiles nudges him, almost giggling.

"You've been so quiet, Stiles, it's freaking me out."

"You've been so communicative, I need to not talk so that you'll keep telling me things." Stiles deflected.

"My first leather jacket was brown, and I got it for Christmas...just before the fire. I loved it so much. I still have it, actually, but it doesn't fit anymore. It'd fit you." Stiles narrowed his eyes, cuddling up close and settling down as Derek was baiting him to.

"I am not being inducted into your little Mean Girls pack." Derek shoots him a look, "On Wednesdays, we wear leather." Stiles mocked, rolling his eyes, and Derek grinned in response-shocking Stiles to his core, "Oh, my god! Did Erica make you watch it?"

"No, Laura," Stiles closed his eyes obediently when Derek stroked over the lids, pressing his nose into Derek's throat, "though when Erica joined the pack, that is exactly what Isaac said." Stiles smiled, enjoying the way Derek's fingers stroked over his skin, his mouth going for Stiles's, soft and gentle, "You taste like lemon sugar when you're like this. Soft and sweet."

Derek presses his forehead to Stiles's, closing his own eyes as Stiles's breathing dropped off into sleep. His lips brush at Stiles's softly just before he falls asleep, and Stiles doesn't dream of hellfire and pain; he dreams of first steps, and falling down hard, but knowing that someone who loves you will pick you back up again.

Derek woke to Stiles's lips against his skin, parted softly still in sleep, his eyelashes fluttering.

Derek kisses his eyelashes and his sweetly unresponsive mouth and his flushed skin, pulling Stiles against his body with a single-minded protectiveness that could serve to bind them together always. Derek could really care less. Derek's mom drifts into his line of sight, looking drawn around the edges, like she has to make sure he's okay.

What if...what if Stiles didn't come back completely? She asks, wringing her hands.

Derek tensed, wrapping unconsciously closer around Stiles's warmth, "I'd go down there myself, and I'd put him back together." Derek whispered, his eyes flashing with the threat of it; that he really would if she thought Stiles honestly had left a piece of himself behind.

I understand...I was devoted to your father, but...Derek, your pack-

"There's no pack without Stiles. You saw me. You saw how it was. I couldn't ever-I couldn't ever just give up. And he'd do the same."

His mother offered a semblance of a smile, looking down as she crossed her arms over her chest, You're stronger than Laura was, you know. Your convictions...it's like you can't be shaken. She never understood...faith.

Derek watched his mother as she bent, kissing his forehead in a gesture she hadn't used in years, even before the fire, "Do you think a part of him…?"

No, but there's something he isn't sharing with you, love...makes the wolf in me nervous.

"I'm not sure if the wolf in me could stand to hear it all, Mama," he breathes, shifting just slightly with Stiles as he shifts, completely out cold, "he protects me because he knows how I would want to hunt the things that hurt him; and that I can't, because it would endanger the pack." She nods, brushing her hand over Stiles's forehead, and the chill of her touch sends him into Derek's warmth even more, murmuring quietly about balance, "He would never forgive me if I got his family hurt, and we are his family, all of us."

Derek stayed resolutely in bed for hours, Stiles's own slumber pulling him into and out of his own doze. Afternoon sun was slanting through the windows when Stiles finally stirred, Derek's stomach making its issues with his choices known as he yawned and snuggled back down for a second to gather himself, "What kind of sexual favours would I have to bribe you with to let me stay in bed or be carried around-that was easy." Derek snorted at the deadpan surprise in Stiles's voice as he scooped him up and carried him downstairs, both of them buck nude, though Derek really didn't care. The Hale house was made for privacy, and his Betas would run the other way at so much as a glimpse of too much of an eyeful. "You didn't have to do that."

"When you offer sexual favours, yes, yes I do." Derek smiled at him, kissing him soft and leisurely, "I'd do it without incentive, too, but only if you really couldn't walk."

"One time! One time I'm walking funny the next day and you treat me like I'm made of crystal!" Stiles grinned, dragging him in for a long, hot kiss, "I think I feel better." Stiles murmured against his lips, grinning still.

"Stiles." Derek's voice took the tone it would've taken years ago, when Stiles and Derek didn't trust each other, and there was nothing between them but a weird, awkward pull to stay together and stay safe. It was the Warning Voice that came with tromping around in werewolf business before either of them knew he could stand up and fight for himself; it brooked no argument even though Stiles would've argued it anyway. Derek wouldn't let him do anything until they were both sure he was ready-beyond ready. Derek's hands wrapped around Stiles's, lifting them to his chest, pressing Stiles's palm to his heart. He doesn't have to say a thing more, and Stiles won't fight him-not really, anyway-on this one. Stiles nodded slowly, sadly, tipping his forehead down to Derek's chest for a moment, because, really, they'd just worked past all this, and they were right back where they'd started.

"The whole damn universe is a giant cockblock-"

"Stiles, we spent most of your March Break naked in bed. Which is another occasion the likes of which sex with me left you unable to viably walk."

"You sound as if you disapprove of this, which is not allowed, mister; no." Stiles scolds, his brows knitting together and his mouth tucking down just at the corners. Derek laughs, shaking his head as he prowls through their kitchen, "I'm young and in love with the most gorgeous person to ever exist, I want to have sex until I can't function on a higher plane of being, forget just not being able to walk." Derek takes Sitles's wrist, his long, skeletally thin finger outstretched in scolding, and he simply sinks the digit between his lips, sucking his cheeks hollow around the finger, and Stiles's pupils blow, the heady reek of arousal pouring off of him, his lips and cheeks reddening with the blood freely colouring his perfectly pale skin. Derek slowly pulls off of Stiles's finger with a vulgar little pop, going for Stiles's mouth and kissing ruthlessly, a hungry predator with easy prey opening up to his attack.

Derek was actually, physically hungry, though, and his stomach made that quite clear as Stiles clung to him desperately. Groaning eloquently, Stiles managed a small smile, "I'll eat you up I love you so." Derek mouthed, pecking the tip of Stiles's upturned nose, smiling.

"Okay, Big Bad, let's feed that monster in your stomach, then we can get back to the part where you devour me whole."

Derek growled lightly in response, but it was just to appease him, no threat or heat behind it at all. Stiles cocooned himself in blankets from the couch, flipping on the television and laying down comfortably, almost asleep when Derek came back in bearing a cup of coffee just the way Stiles liked it. "Pancakes or waffles?"

"Snoopy waffles?" Stiles teased lightly: he'd bought the waffle iron as a gag gift when Derek had told him he'd liked Snoopy. Derek's mother had had one, just like it, and they'd never used it since Derek had admitted that.

"I think I can do that." Derek tells him, and Stiles shakes his head, pulling him down by a grip on his arm for a kiss, slow and languid. Stiles kisses over Derek's lips and face, smiling at him.

"Cinnamon pancakes, please. Those were good." Derek smiled in response, nodding. If there was one thing he had to say surprised him about this whole situation, it was how unerringly in love with his cooking Stiles was. Stiles had learned through necessity; Derek through a want to be taught. Derek had found it so soothing, the process of it; the alchemical magic behind the right ingredients going into the right things at the right times and coming out superb. Stiles emerged to pull down plates and get spreads ready for the crepe-like cinnamon cakes just as Derek was ready for it. Derek slapped his hand away and strong-armed him out of his way when Stiles went to doctor his own portion. "You got my coffee right; I know you love me, let me have my pancakes!"

"The last time I wouldn't let you do something for yourself in the kitchen-"

"You got me hooked like a crack addict on your freaky jam stuffs. Fine, I will let you be maniacally evil with my food choices." Stiles held both hands up, palms out, backing out of the kitchen slowly with a wicked grin.

Derek growled and grumbled, but he loved the look of shock on Stiles's face when Derek would hand him something he'd never thought to try before. Stiles closed his eyes as Derek threw his arm over the back of the couch, letting Stiles curl in and throw the blankets over him, too, as he held both plates.

"How do you manage to cook naked and not have it end in disaster?" Stiles asks lazily around a mouthful of cake and whipped cream and cinnamon sugar.

"I'm the alpha." Derek grins in reply, his fall-back reply for most of Stiles's unanswerable questions. Stiles narrows his eyes, elbowing Derek's side lightly and pursing his lips.

A serious note takes over Stiles's expression, and he sighs, letting Stiles tug and play with his fingers for a moment before making Stiles look at him and tell him what's wrong, "I'm serious about feeling better, Derek. I want to-"

"Stiles…" Derek heaved his sigh, leaning against Stiles's body slightly as if he needed the extra strength, "what if we work on it, the same way you did for me?"

Stiles stills for a moment, considering. It wasn't a bad plan, really. Derek would stop treating him like he was completely made of glass, and he'd get used to getting touched without it being a blow. "And people say I'm the smart one." Stiles coos, and Derek smacks his thigh lightly in retaliation, scowling. Stiles chuckles evilly, pressing a slightly sticky kiss to Derek's cheek. Stiles rests against Derek and tuned out to the cartoons, humming as Derek shifts him around until he could get his hands on Stiles's back. Derek's hands are always so careful, so gentle on Stiles's skin now that it's hard to reconcile the first few years of threats and violence. Derek's painstakingly careful not to illicit panic or fear in Stiles, and Stiles works not to let himself panic without a real need to. "So what's your master plan?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What's my twelve-step program to sexytimes?"

"Telling you would be redundant. I'm not telling you a thing. We're going to heal you up and make everything good," Derek tells him, sliding his arms around Stiles's body and resting his hands low on Stiles's stomach, feeling adrift in the warmth between them. Stiles is calm, sleepy still, and Derek presses a kiss to the tip of his ear, "It won't be long."

"Better not be. I miss…"

"What?"

"Sounds girly, but I think it's because of the connection. It felt like it was the only time you were close enough. Like I'm constantly living with this itch to have you closer. I only notice it when you're close enough, though. "

Derek's brow furrowed, his frown deepening, "I know what you mean-"

"Stop with your grumpface, I can hear it in your voice that you are wearing your grumpface. This isn't a bad thing, it's just a slightly emasculating ulterior motive."

Derek hums, but it isn't his agreeing hum, or even his placating one. Stiles shifts, moving so that his head is tucked under Derek's chin, "I don't want to miss anything, because missing something means, without a shadow of a doubt, that later it will come back to bite us in the ass."

"Okay, well...what feels different to you?" Stiles asked with a twinge of hopefulness in his voice.

"I haven't dreamt of the fire since we started having sex." Derek tells him in a dead voice. Stiles tenses, his own frown taking form.

"So one of your most haunting nightmares has disappeared...and I had you in me last night, and then didn't dream of Hell-"

"Stiles, I'm not having-"

"No, I'm not pushing, just hear me out: we protect each other and we balance each other, and we always have. I used to have nightmares every night before I met you; after we met, it was once in a while, and after we started sleeping together, it was hardly ever. The closer we get, the better we feel."

Derek traced over Stiles's shoulders, "You have a healer's touch."

"So maybe it works a little bit both ways?" Stiles suggested, taking one of Derek's hands and kissing his fingertips slowly, then his palm with a soft kittenish lap of tongue over the tendons before the firm press of Stiles's lips.

"No amount of sexual frustration is going to hurry this process."

"Why'd you have to be just as stubborn as me?!" Stiles cried, pouting thoroughly.

"Because, we balance each other." Derek snickered.

Stiles grunted, rolling his eyes, "You are not getting any funnier. Your sense of humour's improving slightly what with the laughing and all, but you still can't be funny to save your life."

"You're lucky I love you." Derek rumbled, his fingers digging into Stiles's vulnerable sides, tickling him.

Stiles squirmed, slipping out of Derek's grip and twisting until he was straddling Derek on the couch, trying to get a grip on his wrists and restrain him. Stiles got his fingers wrapped around Derek's wrists, pushing forwards until he could get his lips on Derek's, moaning as Derek's fingers trailed down his bare back.

Two days later, Stiles looked up at the high school in complete dread, "Can't I just go home and be naked with Derek again?"

"That's way more than I wanted to know." Scott grumbles, sliding out of the other side of the Jeep, "Where in your house should I never sit again?" Stiles cackles, and gets promptly tackled by Lydia, falling against the side of the Jeep with an "oomph".

She plants a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she links their arms, leading him towards the school, "So, being dead for a month and a half does not make you exempt from school, huh?"

"Derek wants me to be able to do anything I want, I actually had to talk him out of getting me a private tutor to keep me safe."

"Why did you do that again?" Scott asked.

"Someone has to watch over you lot. Otherwise, you'll all start and get caught in the middle of some sort of apocalyptic catastrophe and Derek and I will be too busy snuggling to save you."

Lydia looked thoughtful before she nodded, "Yep, I can see it."

"You're Robin, though-" Scott got cut off as Erica's fist impacted with his arm.

"He's Batman. You're Robin. And not even the cool one." Erica snapped, taking Stiles's other arm with a beaming grin. "He's the coolest Batman there's ever been." Erica brushed over his hair affectionately, giggling at his dorky grin.

Erica and Lydia pressed a kiss to either cheek as they stepped into the school, and Stiles felt his ears burn. Jackson sauntered up, not even scowling as he joined them, Isaac and Boyd emerging from the crowd as well, Isaac with a beaming grin. Isaac went in for a hug, and Stiles felt like he wouldn't stop blushing. Danny ran up, grinning as he nearly tackled Stiles again, Allison hot on his heels, and the entire pack walked Stiles to his first class, ignoring the stares and the whispers.

No amount of Derek ordering them to act as if they weren't a pack was going to stop it; and Stiles the centre of the love-in, Jackson even being almost nice to him.

He was still happy to climb into his Jeep with Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, Scott catching a ride with Allison and Danny. Jackson and Lydia were following his Jeep, Danny behind them, and Stiles couldn't stop himself from being excited.

The house seemed to have a glow around it as he pulled down the lane, his dad's cruiser was parked out front, and Derek and he were both waiting for them on the porch, both of them smiling. It was like Hell fell away completely, and Stiles was left feeling...light. Free. He hopped down from the cab, grinning as Erica slung her arm around his shoulders and Isaac slung his around his waist, walking him up the house, "Good day?"

"Mmm, the highlight was Finstock telling me that being legally declared dead for two months is no excuse for missing lacrosse practice." Stiles chirped, bounding up the steps and hugging his dad tight for a moment before moving to push Derek back down and sit in close, still grinning.

"Allison even growled at him a little bit. It was kind of awesome." Isaac laughed.

"I kind of got gang-pressed into going for lacrosse, by the way." Derek looked down at him, and he frowned back up, "I'll fuck up practice and make him bench me, though. No panic."

"No, you'll do your level best and panic all you need to and I will sit in the stands, roaring you on." Derek growled out, with no heat. Stiles looked down, sliding closer, and Derek pressed a kiss to his temple.

"No actual roaring, though. Even when they hit me."

"I'll even refrain from tearing the engine blocks out of their cars."

"I reserve the right to take Grumpface #8 as an Alpha order to take the engine blocks out of their cars." Erica chirped.

"Is that the one with the weird dimples over his eyebrows or the one with the glare that could melt glass?" Isaac asked speculatively, and Stiles couldn't hide his snigger.

"No, it's the one that's preceding sign is that little grunt he huffs out when he's really pissed." Stiles piped up, listening for it. He grinned and pointed when he was not left wanting, chorusing with Erica, "That one." Derek growled, narrowing his eyes and leaning down to snap his teeth at Stiles's finger, laughing as Stiles jerked away, scowling. "I need the newspaper!"

"Hit me with that thing, Stiles, and you will not even live to regret it." Derek threatened.

"Oooh, big bad wolf threatening itty bitty me. You're all bark, baby, not once have you ever managed to rip my throat out with your teeth."

"You know, I don't know who'd win in a fight." Allison muttered speculatively, and the sheriff turned to her, "When Stiles went up against Peter...I mean, it was like nothing I'd ever seen before, I think Stiles would have a good chance."

"My powers won't work against Derek, though. I can't use them to hurt him." Stiles told her abstractly, wrapping his hand in Derek's collar. Derek flinched, looking from it to Stiles's eyes, his own going wide.

"Attack." Derek and Boyd muttered as one, recognizing the signs. Derek slid off of the couch, pulling Stiles down so he was laying against the seats, raising his hands to stroke over Stiles's cheeks as his body began to react to what his mind was putting him through. The sheriff moved to join him, his hand running through his son's hair and trying to feed him platitudes he was beyond hearing, "Stiles." Derek commanded, and Stiles's mouth, opening and closing wordlessly up til then, lets out a high, keening scream.

"Ghost!" Stiles manages. "T-Tearing...blood…" Stiles chokes on the words, his hands coming up to his chest for a moment before Scott neatly intercepts them from doing any damage. "L-Library." He manages through lips that are turning purple, and Derek doesn't let him get any further into the vision, doesn't let anything else happen. He moves fast, wrapping himself around Stiles and pulling him down into his lap, touching as much of him as possible to help him shake the vision off.

"Erica, Allison, and Isaac, you're taking Lydia to the library. At least try to sort out who we're salting and burning. Scott, help me get Stiles into the dark, he usually gets a headache after seeing anything having to do with the ghosts. Boyd, go to the corner store, and you know the drill. Danny, get everything prepared to make some of that brew Deaton gave us, I'll send Scott down with it. Jackson, be ready to move if Isaac and the girls figure out who the ghost is. Go." Scott dashed for the doors while Derek lifted Stiles easily, murmuring quietly in his ear as he went, following Scott and walking into their bedroom as the last of the shades had been drawn, Scott quickly pulling back the bed and helping arrange all of Stiles's gangly limbs into it.

"What can I do, son?" the sheriff asked from the doorway, and Derek took the time, with Stiles draped against his front like a rag doll, to look over at him.

"Thank you, sir, but the only thing left to do is for me to hold him and wait." Derek told him uncomfortably.

"His mom never got many visions…"

"I think he's more sensitive to it; more in tune. He opens himself up for it, lets it come. He knows he's surrounded by people who'll take care of him as best they can. He doesn't just have me."

"You...you're a family. A strange one, but a family."

"This is the only family I have, sir; and it's your son that makes it really count."

It's the exact thing Derek could never admit to anyone he didn't trust. It shows his weak spot; where to go if you're looking for the jugular. But if there's one thing the Stilinski men have taught him, it's telling the truth, even if it means baring your back. The sheriff nods, and Derek gets the sense that he understands more than Derek's saying-maybe that he understands all of what Derek's saying. Derek's hand curls against Stiles's back, protective of the cards fate's dealt him. He knew they were both in pain; knew they needed more than just what they had in order to keep going.

"I'm sorry...when...when I had to-"

The sheriff's eyes flash, "Don't apologize, you kept him alive. I was being a fool."

Derek nods, unwilling, "Thank you for not coming after us."

"I realized how wrong I was right around the time you took him away. You really loved him, it wasn't just some...magical fluke of nature."

Derek tensed around Stiles's lax body, "I wish things hadn't happened that way."

"You and me both."

Stiles began to stir against his shoulder, snuffling slightly and swallowing thickly with a small sound of pain. Derek reached up, cradling Stiles's head in his hand as he laid him against the mattress, welcoming the sheriff's help as they coaxed Stiles into consciousness and got him drinking Deaton's brew. Stiles looked up at them both with sad, tired eyes, apologetic. "Stop it, you're saving lives." Derek growled.

Stiles released his straw, sighing, "But we were all going to have dinner together." Stiles grumbled, a line appearing between his brows.

"Kid, don't worry about that. We'll reschedule, okay?" the sheriff told him, ruffling his hair gently, "Let me know if you guys need help figuring out whose ghost it is?" Derek nodded once, mustering a small smile as Stiles's sadness washed through him, "Stop being miserable, Stiles. We're all family, we'll have our dinner eventually. Love you."

"Love you, too, dad." Derek carefully took Stiles's temperature and pulse, easing him back against the pillows as his eyelids fluttered.

"You take care of him." The sheriff ordered. Neither of them could tell which he was talking to or about.

Derek remembered the grieving sheriff collapsing into his hug and figured that, maybe, it didn't matter.

That night, Stiles dreamt of a different kind of hell. Derek was screaming, and Stiles couldn't stop sobbing, couldn't breathe in the face of that horror. By the time he opened his eyes, Derek and Isaac were both trying to hold him down from thrashing, his hand cut open on the broken water glass he'd brought to bed.

"Stiles! Stiles, you hear me?" Derek's voice was gruff with worry and deep with power, almost his Alpha voice, but not quite.

Stiles slipped under Isaac's arm and flew into Derek's body, clinging hard as he choked on air. Light welled around him, everywhere he was touching Derek, but there was nothing to heal, and Derek gasped as he tried, restraining.

"What happened?" Erica asked brokenly from the doorway, Boyd behind her, and Stiles couldn't speak. Derek directed them to the special Stiles first aid kit, taking his injured hand in both of his, careful to restrain it, to keep Stiles from doing any worse to it.

Light welled brighter around where Derek held his wound, and Stiles watched as the skin knit together as Derek slumped just slightly, tired lines running around his edges, "You…"

"I can heal you, too. That's...don't make me need to?" Derek asked in a strained voice, pulling their mouths together for a moment, holding on. "What happened?"

Stiles couldn't even speak the words, as if giving them breath would make them real again. It played in his head again, his hand twisting in Derek's grip to grip his back, and Derek's pupils dilated and relaxed again, his body shuddering as he shook himself.

"Boss?" Erica asked quietly, watching them with something between clinical wonder and apprehension.

"I think...I think I just saw what you were dreaming." Derek ground out, his hazel eyes showing the blue Stiles knew to look for when he was truly tired. Stiles's hands were shaking, he knew, the fear of losing flowing through him; of all of this being too much for Derek. Derek met his eyes, determination that was diamond-strong and perfectly unbreakable, Stiles knew, setting his jaw as he got a better grip of Stiles's hands, pulling him close. "Go back to bed, guys." Derek ordered, and Stiles could feel the unease swirl from Erica to the boys and back, Derek shaking his head in response, "We'll be alright, I'll call you if I need you. Stiles will talk to you tomorrow if you really can't wait for me to."

Erica nodded after a moment, "Feel better, mama wolf."

"I am not pack mom!" Stiles snorted, not looking away from Derek's eyes.

"He really isn't." Boyd agreed, taking her under his arm as she came for him, Isaac slowly withdrawing with a heavy look at Derek that Derek completely ignored.

They faded back into their own bedrooms in the huge house, and Stiles finally looked away, "You're insane." Derek growled, taking Stiles by the scruff of his neck and hauling him forward until he could lick his way into Stiles's mouth, his fingers curled into the back of Stiles's hair, "You think I'll run, you're insane."

"What happens when it's too much?"

"What is this 'too much' you speak of? Holding up a two-hundred pound, paralyzed Alpha in the middle of a pool for two hours while a lizard who is scared of the water hisses at you from the side? Your best friend getting bitten by a crazed, semi-catatonic relative of your boyfriend and turning into a werewolf? How about getting kidnapped and tortured as a message to both your best friend and boyfriend? That too much?"

"Sarcasm is not your strong suit, sourwolf, we've talked about this." Stiles sighed, pushing his fingers through Derek's hair and pulling him closer, so that Derek was laying on his side beside him and Stiles was on his back, "It's...It's so much, Derek-"

"It's keeping us both above water, Stiles. You kept me safe, you have even when you were trying to threaten my life," Stiles snorted, "you have my back, and I have yours, you gigantic moron. I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Stiles held up his pinky finger in dead seriousness, and Derek guffawed, dropping his head to Stiles's shoulder before wrapping his pinky around Stiles's and shaking once. Stiles drew him over for a kiss, and Derek wrapped his arms around him, letting Stiles map him out by touch, the same way Derek would to make sure Stiles was uninjured in his arms.

"You're insane and I love you." Derek muttered, and Stiles let out a high-pitched giggle, "Yes, that is supposed to be your line." Derek rubbed his hand over Stiles's chest, feeling his heartbeat through his palm, "Please go back to that being your line."

Stiles laughed, "You're insane and I love you. Better?" Derek buried his face in Stiles's shoulder, nodding and muffling something into his chest, inaudible and indistinct. Stiles carded his fingers through Derek's hair, relaxing into the bed beneath him and closing his eyes, "Seeing what I saw. That's new."

"It is."

"Derek-"

"I'm not going to worry about it."

"We need to, though-what happens if you start feeling it like I do, too?!"

"Was that a nightmare or a vision, Stiles?"

"A nightmare, but-"

"Stop panicking." Derek murmured, his hand closing over Stiles's eyes and his lips catching Stiles's softly, "If it gets worse, if it changes, we'll deal with it. We always have, we always will."

"You have such faith in our problem-solving skills…"

"Faith is just one of my many gifts." Derek grinned at him, kissing his forehead.

Stiles squeezed his hand, nerves ratcheting up in his chest, "I have something I need to tell you, then."

Stiles took a deep breath, and told Derek his real name.

More and more, Stiles saw an aura surrounding the house; a blanket of energy that moved and undulated as if living.

An icy chill would run down Stiles's spine when Derek touched him too briefly; and once or twice Stiles could almost swear the smell of ash was on the wind.

Stiles and Derek are dancing around each other in training when Stiles catches a glimpse of something twisted and horrible just from the corner of his eye, his movement and attention lost, leaving him open for Derek's attack, sending them both sprawling over the floor before Derek was up and away from him in a heartbeat, wild-eyed with worry, "Did I hurt you?" Derek demands, and Stiles shakes his head jerkily, twisting from his vantage point on the floor to look at where the apparition had been, "What happened?"

"I just...I thought I saw another ghost, only…"

"Stiles?"

Stiles glanced back, shaking his head and reaching out for Derek's hand to help him up. "I'm not hurt or anything, you didn't hurt me." Stiles tells him, and Derek pulls him close anyway, "You know I'm not lying, sourwolf."

"Yeah, but I feel like you're safer here. Even if you aren't."

Stiles pressed his nose into Derek's chest, curled down in his arms in a very teenage slump, "I'm safest here, what the hell are you talking about?" Stiles pinched Derek's side playfully, sticking his tongue out at him.

"Not gonna be much good against ghosts, Stiles."

Stiles pulled away slightly, looking Derek in the eye, "Actually, I was thinking about that."

"About what?"

"Well, I can interact with the ghosts-"

"You're the grandson of Death-"

"-so I was thinking that maybe you could...channel me, I guess. Like with the healing, but with...more."

"Stiles, healing knocked me out for ten hours-"

"Yes, well, I've been working on making it easier for me...well, less deadly, anyway-we could do it together."

Derek narrows his eyes, advancing with the easy grace of the Alpha, and Stiles instinctually reacts, taking a step back, knowing Derek is not pleased. "You...have been doing some of the most dangerous and life-threatening training you could ever do...without me even present?"

"I had back-up, Derek, and Lydia's getting good at healing me, she's almost as powerful with it as I am."

Derek's eyes flash with rage, and Stiles makes the snap decision to stand his ground from here on out. "Stiles, I am your mate and your Alpha: Lydia is a child with a handle on minor magics, and you're playing with your life in the big leagues?!"

Stiles was beginning to feel fear well up inside him, but he reached for Derek anyway, his hands folding around Derek's wrists desperately, trying to keep him there or keep him from striking; either way, Derek didn't like it. "Lydia saved me when you were kidnapped, Derek, she can handle this. You're never far away, either."

Derek looms, "What makes you think I can be on your beck and call like that? What makes you think I don't do things when I think you're safe."

Stiles lifted his chin, a hardness that almost physically hurt Derek flashing through his eyes, "If I'm such a goddamn inconvenience-" Derek grabbed his arms, snarling, and Stiles reacted before he could think, the force of a thought sending Derek careening through the air to the other side of the room, fire burning through his veins as he stared the Alpha down, "if I'm such a goddamn inconvenience, what's it matter to you if Lydia can't patch me up until you pull me together?"

Stiles turned on his heel, striding out of the room with long steps, sickness bubbling in his chest that he'd hurt Derek, and the need to get away stifling him in the walls of the house.

Stiles is gone by the time Derek sorts out what happened, and the wolf in Derek screams.

Allison and her father don't ask why Stiles comes to them, and Chris Argent is more than willing to train Stiles in ways Derek couldn't. Neither of them ask about the nightmares.

Three days later, the attack Stiles had seen happened.

The pack was in school when Stiles got the flashes of it, much like he had when Peter had come back from the dead, and Lydia and Allison converged on him the moment they saw the look on his face, Scott throwing out apologies and excuses as they ran for it, burning rubber as Allison skidded out of the parking lot, Lydia on the phone to Derek as Stiles told them what was happening in a cold, dead voice.

Lydia squeaked suddenly, startling all of them to such a degree that Allison very nearly swerved. "Derek...I think something's interfering with the phone reception, it sounded like something was roaring and then it went static-y and dead."

"Roaring...isn't that some sort of EMF feedback?" Allison asked breathlessly, getting them back on the road and headed for the library still.

"According to the Winchesters, yeah." Stiles confirmed, his right eye going blurry to what was in front of him as the blood vessels burst in his eye. "Our end or his is what I wanna know."

"One ghost at a time, yeah?" Allison gasped out, eyes wild as she and Lydia threw themselves out of the car, both with their bag of tricks. "We'll have to deal with this ourselves in any case. Scott, you and Stiles stay out here, we'll hold it down if you two can salt and burn."

"Yes, ma'am." Stiles growled out, steel flashing in his eyes as he turned to look at his team, a wicked smile flitting out like the flick of a knife, "Sport?"

"Play." Allison answered, hefting her iron baton onto her shoulder with an answering smile; a similar darkness shining in her eyes as she and Lydia pushed past Scott and Stiles, Lydia pecking Stiles's cheek before she disappeared into the library.

"Stay safe."

"Be careful." Scott muttered, letting his hands fall back from Allison's as she slipped away.

"Why be careful? Where's the fun in that?" Stiles smirked, pulling out his phone for a signal, hesitating with his thumb over Derek's number.

Scott shot him a confused look, and Stiles turned away, biting his lip as he pressed dial and held it up to his ear. Straight to voicemail, and Stiles felt a stab of pain and panic.

Stiles concentrated, holding his hands out, palms facing each other a foot apart, and he focussed on the feeling of it, drawing up an image of where Derek was. Stiles grit his teeth and bore down on the power, forcing it up in him, pushing past it draining him. Scott drew around, watching in wonder as Stiles narrowed his view to where ever it was Derek was. The image flickered and died between his palms, blank static blacking it out before Stiles could get any further than the outside of the Hale house. Stiles pressed harder, and nothing came. "Fuck."

"Something is really wrong?"

"I don't work off cell reception, Scott, something is blocking me."

"What would have the power to do that?"

Stiles scowled, feeling a power like complete darkness well up in him, "I don't know."

Scott stepped back from him, eyes widening, "St-Stiles. Calm down. Please." Scott begged.

The air around them is so heavy with power that Scott can't breathe, and Stiles's eyes are almost black they've bled so dark. Scott's hackles would be up if he had any, and his heart is racing, but the change isn't taking at all; he's frightened to the point where he can't even shift. The air is so thick that it feels almost like it's pressing on them, squeezing and suffocating. There's a small crackle through the air, like electricity, and Scott can hear the rustle of feathers as Stiles's back shifts slightly, his wings almost taking form from the scars that hide them.

"Stiles…" Scott stumbled backwards, and the oppressive air literally cracked, a flash like lightning striking the doors as Stiles's shirts tore, his wings splaying out, storm-grey and tipped with silver blades almost as clear as the lightning. Scott dropped to his knees as Stiles's body heat grew to hellfire proportions, the last of the breath stolen out of his lungs as the hard lines of Stiles's face turned gaunt, the angles pale and remote and sharp. This wasn't Stiles; this wasn't human anymore. He was pure wrath and power, the gentle edge of him gone.

This was the creature that had crawled through Hell to get back to his life. Scott had never seen anything more unspeakably terrifying. Scott got out of his way, the power crackling around him like light through crystals, and Scott threw himself over the railing between the stairs and the decorative garden, taking cover and shouting for Allison and Lydia to do the same.

The library was caught up in a blinding explosion, white light blowing Scott out of the bushes and away from the library as it hit, leaving his vision completely shrouded in stars and his ears ringing.

Scott kept conscious long enough to see Allison and Lydia stumbling out of the library, Lydia limping slightly. Stiles was gone.

Derek knew he should've seen it coming. He knew he should've figured it out that she'd be summoned out with Gerard's spell, too.

He'd just thought she would've made her move sooner.

Kate Argent smirked at him, the clench of her fingers, like talons under his skin, felt even though they weren't corporeal. Her ghost watched as the house around them went wild, tearing itself apart with the crackle of Stiles's power, enraged that she would hurt him again. It's cute how he's enchanted the house, Derek. Your little twink. Derek didn't dignify it with a response, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Is he a good lay at least? Does he make you feel as good as I did?

Derek growled, his eyes flashing red, but he was pinned against the wall, his legs crushed under the weight of their bookcase and her hand through his chest, her fist around his heart.

You're nothing more than a monster, and I hear the little bastard's a special snowflake. Stronger even than Luci and Michael.

"Well, yes, I am a special fucking snowflake." Derek's eyes raised past her, and his face paled, his wolf shifting back as he watched Stiles, smoke or steam curling off his shoulders and the black-gold of the fires of Hell replacing the perfect brown of his eyes. Fear pierced through Derek as he sank against the wall, watching the blades of Stiles's wings flit and flicker. The house continued to rage, and Stiles raised his chin, defiant and powerful, "Enough." Stiles's voice rang with bass, and the house abruptly stopped trying to tear itself apart. "You made a mistake waiting so long."

Had to get enough juice to be able to do this. Kate squeezed, and Derek couldn't help the strangled, gurgling scream, blood pouring out of his mouth.

Stiles's eyes darkened even further, and Kate shifted, uncomfortable, her grip faltering, "I took out that little distraction you set up in the library without breaking a sweat, Katie. Imagine what I can do to you without even trying."

You do know all about torture, don't you? Crawling through those bleeding and burning bastards-killing the ones who reached out for your help...you were a naughty boy, even by Hell's standards. Vicious.

Stiles smirked, twisted and unreal, and Derek fought against the weight of the bookcase crushing his legs: he needed to get to Stiles, needed to get Stiles back to him, "You were a demon before you even died, you mangy bitch."

"Stiles…" Derek breathes, his heart going into overdrive.

Oh, baby, you didn't think you'd get a kind and gentle soul the second time around, did you? Kate cackled at him, the distressed look on her face telling another story from the agonizing coo of her voice.

"Stiles," Derek pled, and Stiles threw the bookcase aside with a flick of his eyes, Kate looking shakier by the moment. Derek slid down to the floor, his legs shrieking in pain even as the bones reknit and pieced back together.

Stiles turned his eyes onto Kate, and Derek watched as she flinched under his gaze, taking a shaky step back, "You should suffer more than you would in Hell. It shouldn't stop for you. There shouldn't be a way out." Thunder rolled through Stiles's voice, and Derek tried futilely to pull himself up, "Suffer the pain you've caused." Kate screamed. It was a scream of the dead and the damned; shattering the windows and pushing against Derek's eardrums until he felt his head was about to burst, his hands clamping over his ears without much hope of quelling the sound.

Kate launches herself at Stiles, and Derek has to try again; has to find the strength in him to get up off the floor and fight for his mate, but his blows would pass through Kate; he couldn't touch a ghost.

Stiles could. Stiles whipped out, sliding forwards, moving like liquid power, his hands and arms crawling with the power; his wings snapping out and slicing through her side, sending her flying. With every step towards her, the air electrified again, and Derek's instincts shredded in two; he had to run to survive, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Stiles: Stiles needed him.

Kate came at him with nails that were almost talons, slashing out desperately at the air Stiles had just occupied, his own hand curling around her thigh and her other calf, swinging his own body into the movement of throwing her into the wall with enough force to make the house shake, denting the wall from the impact. "You might not be able to bleed anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't still make you feel the pain." Stiles hissed at her, swinging her into the wall three more times before throwing her into the one opposite.

Derek feels more than sees Allison wrap her hands around his arm and in the back of his jacket, hauling him to his feet and backwards through the house as Stiles smashed Kate all the way through another wall, and the house began to go wild once more, books flinging themselves from the shelves and the windows, cupboards, and doors slamming open and shut like gnashing teeth.

Derek stumbles as they reach the porch, part of him wanting to fight to go back to Stiles, and other hands close over his arms: Scott, Erica, Boyd, Jackson...his whole pack is standing in the drive, staring up at his house as it pulses with an aura of fighting darkness and light, the snarls of the two people inside reaching his ears and putting him on edge with desperation. Allison and Jackson heave him against the Jeep, rocking the chassis as he impacts and falls to the ground on his ass, staring desperately with the rest even while they restrain him on every side, spewing meaningless words to try to get through.

"I'm so sorry...your house...I'm so sorry." Allison was crying quietly, and to Derek's shock she leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'm sorry."

Derek jerked in her arms, wrapping his arms around her in return for a moment, his body carrying him to his feet before his brain could command anything, "I don't care about the goddamn house!" Derek yelled, passing off Allison to Scott, Boyd seizing his jacket and holding him back as the house shook with an almighty crash, and a wave of dust spewed out of the front door. "Stiles!" Derek slipped out of his jacket, running for the house as a blinding flash decimated it all over again, sending a shockwave that took Derek off his feet, levelling the house completely.

Derek struggled upright from where he'd been thrown, panic choking him at the thought of Stiles's easily breakable body under all that rubble. He took off running, an inhuman roar of Stiles's real name shaking through the forest.

"He's not there!" Scott roared after him, getting himself up and giving chase, "He's not there, that's how he disappeared at the library. There's no blood, he's not in there." Derek registered the words, his body shifting, clothes tearing at the seams as he fully shifted, flying over the wreckage and into the forest as if he had wings like Stiles's.

Derek knew where he'd be, and the sky cracked open and wept above him.

Stiles stood frozen an inch before the boundary into his mother's field, his wings tinkling slightly with each raindrop, a song in the looming darkness.

Stiles turned at the sound of the Alpha's gallop, only slightly braced as Derek crashed into him, tackling them through the boundary and onto the other side.

Stiles looks up at him with tears in his eyes, his hands shaking as they fold in Derek's fur, stroking over his muzzle and down his flank, "I hurt you...I'm so sorry...I hurt you…"

The Alpha lets out a quiet whimper, nosing at his shoulder and laying its head down on his chest, trying to angle most of his body off of Stiles's and keep mindful of the wings. Stiles keeps petting and stroking him, struggling to contort in order to press tear-sloppy kisses into his storm-grey fur; the colour of Stiles's wings matching the colour of Derek's wolf. Stiles is still fire-hot; Derek can smell the slight burn of his fur, and he can feel each touch, baking through. The rain sizzles and steams off of his skin, and Derek whines, nosing at him.

"I-I can't change back…" Stiles tells him, pain rending his voice.

Derek drops against him fully, listening to the sound of Stiles's heart as it struggles to find a steady beat after being put through so much. Derek whines again, wanting to soothe it, wanting to make it better, but he can't; all he can do is lay in the rain with the creature that's somewhere between being his mate and being the animal that had fought its way through Hell to get back to him.

Derek listens as Stiles's heart slows, then evens out, but the pulse is getting weaker, his breaths shallower, and Derek can't let it happen again; won't.

Derek summons his will, so much like Stiles's, and he focusses on the feeling of Stiles beside him, of what he feels in the air and running through Stiles's veins when he's using his powers, dragging Stiles's power out of him only to feed it back in healing him.

The boy and his beast, and the wolf and his monster grow cold together in the teeming rain, trapped on the other side of a door only Stiles could open.

Somewhere both far and close, a pack howls.