Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

CHAPTER ONE

Stiles never talked about his panic attacks. He just didn't. Scott didn't even know about them until he needed help with one. Even then, the subject was pushed aside after briefly mentioning that they were a near constant after his mom's death. They happened when she was sick too, but further elaborating on the subject while in the locker room was pointless and talking about something like that in sixth grade with your best buddy wasn't something that happened, so Stiles was used to not talking about them anyway.

After the whole business with Gerard and the kanima, they were back again in full swing.

He learned how to hide them again though. Scott and Isaac always busy with werewolf training and such, Stiles was left with a lot of alone time, so he had a lot of time to practice. That had its minor advantages, such as no one with super senses around to hear and feel him freaking out. It also had its downs though, such as having a lot of alone time while being prone to panic attacks and night terrors.

He understood though. The werewolf thing was definitely a bonding experience, and despite all of Scott's protests, he was pack. Even as a human, Stiles could feel it. Their connection was tangible. Plus there was the fact that, from his research, they showed all the typical signs wolves would with their own pack.

Once he had figured that out, it had felt best to take a step back and just let them use him when they needed. He didn't want to constantly feel out of place, but he did like feeling needed. So he was always willing to help how he could, even if it was killing him a little inside.

Luckily, the summer was going by quickly. He was keeping himself busy learning anything and everything he could about the supernatural from the Bestiary, the internet, and all of the books he could get his hands on at the library. He was staying up for days at a time, partly because of all his own problems and partly because he wanted to be sure his dad made it home and then he'd crash for a day, hard.

He wasn't always alone though. Of course, his dad was busy being Sheriff to a small town with big problems most of the time, but when he wasn't, they would watch movies or sit and talk. Then there was Derek's weekly pack meetings.

Those damn meetings.

After the first month of Scott and Isaac practically being a couple, Stiles could hardly handle going to the meetings. With it now being mid-August, he figured he could handle missing one meeting. It was just one, and he wanted to stay home. He was tired and he was human for goodness sake! Seeing everyone together and so...happy on a weekly basis was practically torture. Well, they weren't exactly happy, but they were happier than Stiles.

Plus, there was the fact that September was creeping closer, meaning school would be starting in only a couple weeks. There was so much to learn and catch up on before that! He had so many more important things to do. They didn't really need him around all the time anyway, or so he rationalized.

When the usual time to show up at Derek's under-construction-used-to-be-burnt-down house passed, his phone blew up with texts and voicemails.

He ignored them though, after seeing that the first one was from Jackson and the second from Erica. He knew they'd figure it out and let him be, or at least Lydia would figure it out and tell them if no one else did.

After powering through another chapter in the Bestiary, a nap was in order, fifty-six hours without sleep was getting close to pushing it. Stiles knew he wouldn't be able to handle this sleep pattern forever. He was asleep for about an hour when he woke up to the sound of metal snapping and his bed sliding across the room.

The scream ripping up his throat, stopped, but only when he realized there was no point, because there was a red-eyed and angry Alpha werewolf staring at him from his desk.

"Wh-what in the hell, Derek?!" His voice trembled; he was hoping they could all just pretend it was from anger.

Derek's eyes widened, and suddenly he was right there in front of Stiles, gripping his shoulders and slamming him into the wall beside his bed. His head bounced off the wall on impact and left him disoriented for several breaths.

When he was capable of focusing again, all he saw was the bright eyes of his pissed Alpha.

"What the fu-"

Derek growled and Stiles shut his mouth into a thin line.

For what felt like hours, Stiles' heart hammered against his ribs as Derek growled and kept himself pressed up against Stiles, his eyes alarmed and alert.

Then, as if he remembered himself and what he was doing, Derek released Stiles and jumped back, leaving the boy in a heap on the ground. His eyes faded back to the very human and fascinating green that meant Stiles was safe, well, as safe as a human could be from a pissed Alpha.

Stiles stayed on the ground though, too nervous to move and not exactly wanting a repeat of what just happened. He didn't need a panic attack to flare up right here and now. That would be terribly embarrassing. Feeling time wasting, Stiles began to fidget, wanting Derek to start talking and explain why the fuck he did that to begin with. He also knew that if he started speaking now, Derek would likely get more frustrated, and there were so many things to do now that he was awake.

Feeling agitated, Stiles opened his mouth to just get whatever Derek needed over with, but Derek spoke first.

"You didn't show up to the meeting."

Stiles left his mouth open for a moment, utterly confused as to why that mattered at all. "What?"

"You didn't answer any texts or phone calls either."

Stiles could hear Derek's inflections become more threatening, "Oh, I'm sorry. I missed the part where that meant you could come into my room while I was sleeping and throw me into a wall."

Derek glowered at him.

"Plus, there is the fact that I am most definitely not Pack, and therefore do not need to show up to your little club meetings where you all wear your stupid leather jackets and all match like you're a happy family in fucking Disneyland, but all naive enough to believe that a fucking matching article of clothing will keep you all together and the little ones from wandering off."

'Fuck' Stiles chastised himself, 'Don't start up a rant here.'

Stiles checked back in to hear Derek growling and eyes flashing. His growl was slowly filling up the room and suffocating him, surrounding him in Derek's power and will.

He was Alpha. Stiles could feel it in his bones, if not see it in Derek's eyes.

"Mine."

Was Stiles hearing that right? Was this happening? Did Derek just –

"MINE."

Well that about summed it up for Stiles. He immediately started panicking. He was fucked. Did this mean he was pack? Or did it mean he was Derek's next murder victim?

'Well' he thought glumly, 'I'll find out in a minute or two.'

Then, Derek was on him again, smashing him into his wall that would likely need repainting and some plaster, ugh, that would be a pain in the ass. All thoughts of the wall behind him were quickly swept away when Derek started scenting him.

"OH, whAT THE HELL?!"

Stiles squirmed, trying to shove Derek off or shimmy out of his hold, but it only seemed to push him more into Derek, and just kept shoving his nose in the crook of Stiles' neck, licking and chuffing away like this was a normal thing to be doing today. No big deal. Stiles was late today, I'll teach him a lesson and give him an erection. That'll be awkward for him. Was that stubble rubbing against him? Why did it tickle? OH mY gOd.

Stiles' face was heating up, despite him knowing that this was clearly Derek being all "I'm the Alpha now" and "Must demonstrate dominance over lowly human." He was never going to live this down. Nope. Never. He was literally being "owned" right now.

'Fucking werewolves and their stupid complexes,' Stiles grumbled, trying not to make a face. He should probably bare his neck in submission, but seeing as Derek seemed to be almost done with his business, he didn't really want to encourage this. Especially given the slight arousal he was sporting from Derek rubbing himself up against him, damn raging hormones and lack of girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other, whatever. This was confusing.

Stiles went back to struggling, after his little stray off into his thoughts, and Derek released him once more, his eyes glowing red.

"Don't be late ever again."

Stiles nodded and crumpled to the floor, realizing a moment too late that he'd actually said everything he had thought during that whole, um, experience.

'What in the actual fuck…'

By next week, Stiles had finished a little over half of the Bestiary, three books on mythical lore, ranging from Greek to Celtic, and several other tomes, some on language and symbols, with others on general war and wolf pack dynamics. He was really trying to fill himself up with all possible needed information. Seriously, with how his life was going as of late, random facts and information could be used to help in just about any situation.

Plus, he was still trying to figure out the whole Derek motherfucking Hale scenting him the other day. What was that even about? He wouldn't dare ask about it, not right now, maybe once he can't find it on his own and it's been a couple, hrm, maybe months? Perhaps years. Whatever. He relied on research, and research had yet to let him down. He could figure this out, and then rationalize it. And THEN, he could stop thinking and dreaming about it, and the way it felt to have Derek's mouth all ov–

NOPE. Stop right there.

Look, there's another book to read on Latin, the Bestiary would be so much easier to read if he didn't have to wait for Lydia's translations. Might as well learn it. He had time. There was still, what? Three or four days left to summer?

He glanced down at his phone to check the date.

THURSDAY, August 29. SO, what, five? Yeah. Five. As he pressed the button to lock his phone once again, he saw the time. 3:56.

"FUCK."

He had four minutes to get to the pack meeting, and roughly five miles to drive. Stiles let his head slip from his hand and smash into his desk with an "Ommph."

OK. SO, it was more like six miles or something, but whatever. Who was going to pull over the Sheriff's son anyway? And it was only that far because they met in the middle of the goddamn woods! It really wasn't his fault, honestly. Still, he didn't want a repeat of last week, well maybe he did, but not in front of the entire pack. He may not exactly be pack, but dealing with the embarrassment of Derek manhandling him in front of all of them might completely ruin his chances of that ever actually being a possibility.

As he was driving to Derek's like a mad man, his precious Jeep hopping and bounding over hills and bumps in the road, he snatched at his phone, trying to contact somebody from the pack. He quickly scrolled through his contacts and selected the first pack member he recognized and sent a quick text, with slightly jumbled letters, saying he was on his way.

As his car swung into the drive in front of Derek's house he heard a little ding from his phone, hopefully meaning said pack member answered his message. His car sped up the drive until it came to a skidding halt near the front door.

Moving quickly, Stiles threw the gear shift into park and hopped out of the car, bounding off to the Hale house after slamming the door to his Jeep, not even glancing back. Panic was taking over at this point. He knew he was at least seven minutes late and he really really really didn't want to deal with an embarrassment in front of the pack. He was sure he couldn't handle that right now. Dealing with the whole Scott being a bitch thing was enough already. Well he wasn't really a bitch but still, he was kind of ignoring him? Sort of. He hadn't really talked to him...in what, two months?

Yep.

Two.

Damn.

Opening the door to the Hale house, Stiles started babbling his reasoning for being late and how terribly sorry he was, it wouldn't happen again, he just got distracted by things having to do with everything, and no he did not have ADHD, just some tendencies and -

Stiles realized Derek was staring at him with Peter next to him on his laptop, both obviously amused by this particular situation, but just letting him go on and on.

"Where the crap is everybody?" Stiles wheezed, sounding very much like Scott had during one of his asthma flare-ups, before the whole being a werewolf thing, but whatever.

"Well, Stiles, if you were here for last week's meeting, you would know that there isn't a pack meeting this week because of school starting in less than a week and everyone needing the extra time to train and tie up loose ends." Derek smirked, as Peter explained, shaking his head and greatly enjoying the horrified look on Stiles' face.

"If you had seen or talked to anyone in the pack in the past months outside of pack meetings, maybe you would have known that," Derek added, looking up at Stiles from his position on one of their new couches.

"Oh, come on!" Stiles huffed and slammed the door as he left the Hale house and walked briskly to his Jeep, his movements rather stompy and angry-child-ish.

Heaving the door to his Jeep open like it was, sincerely, the most difficult and troublesome thing he had ever done in his entire life, Stiles basically threw himself into his own car. His right hip landed directly on the gear shift. He almost hissed in pain, but really, he didn't care all that much. He'd bruise. Big whoop.

Leaving his legs to hang outside his car, Stiles fumbled for his cell, finding it under his face and inevitably dropping the device on his passenger side floor. For a moment he stared at it, watching it blink and light up, trying desperately to notify him of a text message he has yet to view. He could grab it, but what did it matter, seriously. What difference would it make? The text was probably just "What the fuck is this bullshit, Stiles?" With his luck it was probably sent to Jackson, or worse, to Lydia. One would make him feel like a loser while the other would emasculate him and make him feel like an idiot-loser.

It just wasn't worth it.

Nothing was worth it.

'Well this is escalating quickly.' Stiles couldn't help but notice the darkness inside him coming closer, licking at his resolve like white hot flames.

He just felt so alone and completely and utterly useless. No matter how much he learned, no matter how hard he tried, they really didn't need him, and honestly, he doesn't know why he thought they ever would.

He takes a deep breath and holds it.

Not here.

Not now.

And as he releases the breath, he pushes his walls up a little higher and further away. If nothing can touch him, then nothing can hurt him. Nothing.

Nothing.

Stiles allows himself another breath before he rights himself, starts his car, and hits it into gear. 'This really doesn't matter. It really doesn't,' he tries to convince himself half-heartedly. He can't help but realize how he always seems to fall short, just an inch short, in everything he does. Just a little further and he would make first line. Just a little further and he could have had Lydia. Just a little further and he could make his Dad proud. Just a little further and he could have been a Were too. Just a little further, just a little harder, and maybe his Mom would be home right now, prepping dinner for the family. Just a little further and he could feel whole enough. Could feel safe enough. Could stop thinking about Gerard beating the shit out of him in a basement. Could stop thinking about a man being crushed by Jackson via his car. Could stop thinking of himself covered in blood blood blood. Whose is it? How could he know? It's his Mom's, his Dad's, Scott's, the Pack's, his own. Does it matter?

He closes his eyes, he realizes he's driving, but does it matter? He thinks for a moment. Maybe. Maybe not.

His car swerves slightly into the oncoming lane. For a brief moment all he can think of his crashing into another car, him flying through the windshield, beautifully, gracefully, deadly. It'd be like magic. Glass would shatter and scatter everywhere, some imbedding themselves across his skin, some riddling the car and the road, some falling on the car he hit.

That's when he realizes there'd be someone in that other car. He imagines his head bouncing off the pavement, skull shattering, skin tearing, blood gushing. Then all he can see is a mother in the car, with grocerys in the back seat that launch everywhere at their collision. He wonders why he imagines this, but lets it slide as he finds himself wondering what nonfat milk, organic eggs, and his AB+ blood would look like mixed together.

His phone beeps again, alerting him to the text message he's left unattended.

Stiles guides his vehicle back into his lane. He knows what would happen if he hit another car. He would ruin another family's life. Not just his Father's, but the life of an entire family that he probably knows one of the members to. He couldn't do that. Not ever.

Maybe he over analyzes things, maybe he's just trying to rationalize the situations he keeps finding himself in, either way, it keeps him sane and alive.

'When did I become so broken?' he tries to think of an answer, but as he pulls into his driveway, parks his car, and silences the engine, he knows that he's asking the wrong question. He's not broken, not yet. Far from it, really.

He is breaking though. Shattering. Pieces fall off every now and then, but there's no one or thing to put them back on, to glue up the cracks and tell him he's fine. He's fine. Fine. He can breathe. That's all he can do though. He breathes, absorbs, and wonders. He wonders why there's no one to glue him up, stitch him together. Was it his fault? Was he pushing everyone away like Derek thinks? Was this just happening to him? Could he even stop something like this? Didn't these things just happen?

'Things fall apart. These things happen.'

He lets that thought sink in.

"Only if you let them."

Stiles sighs and pulls his keys from the ignition, deciding he isn't the type to go quietly to begin with, so why start now.

He'll text one of the Pack tonight and see what happens. Maybe he can even get someone to hand out with him. Part of him knows that whoever he asks will definitely come, will be there in minutes, probably hassling him about all the things they really ought to be doing, but will come anyway. He knows this, just like he knows he really is Pack, just needs to be shown it. He needs to see it, feel it, hear it, because he's been treading on thin ice and promises for so long that he doesn't remember what good ice, land, even stable ground, is anymore.

He needs a rock.

Stumbling into the house he realizes half of his thoughts don't make all that much sense right now, and as he swipes his hand across his face to mask his frustration, he comes upon the startling realization that he's been downright sobbing the entire time. Eyes fuzzy, ears buzzing, cheeks rosy, snot running, water everywhere, sobbing.

"Ugh."

He heads for the stairs, decides he needs to shower, and that he can call someone after. He's done pushing everyone away. Seriously. He just needs to sleep some first.

Stiles walks into his room before getting to the bathroom, knowing he needs to find some seriously awesome sweatpants to put on after that frickin' semi-breakdown, preferably of the Batman persuasion.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, it takes him at least a full minute of shuffling through his drawers to realize that, yes, those sweats are clean, but there is definitely someone in his room, because he can totally feel a breeze. Meaning the window that was closed when he left is now open, which leads to someone, likely of the Werewolf kind, is in his room.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on end and his back straighten abruptly. He really didn't want anyone to see him right now. Not like this. Not when –

"I heard your heartbeat freaking out the whole way home."

Stiles' muscles tighten up minutely. "What do you want?" Stiles says, sounding defeated and nothing like himself as he turns around to face Derek, expecting to see a very frustrated Alpha staring at him.

Derek isn't frustrated though, he seems bewildered, blindsided, short of terrified to be specific. His eyes are wide, face flushed like he just ran a minute mile, and there's something in his stance that screams protection and instinct. Is that what an Alpha is?

"What the hell?" Stiles mumbles. "Are you ok, Derek?"

Derek shakes his head "No" so emphatically that Stiles looks him over for a Monkshood bullet, because what in the hell. Derek looked like he was ready to panic and needed to lay down or throw up.

Derek steps forward and before Stiles realizes it, he's there. Right there. All up in his face, but not in the threatening "Submit to your Alpha NOW, or else" way. He really can't place this expression. It reminds him of his mother for a second and he shakes the thought off, not wanting to go back to that train of thought right now.

Then Derek's hugging him, their foreheads are together, and Derek's hugging him like he's holding onto him just to make sure Stiles stays put, like if he let go, Stiles could float away. In a sense, maybe he could.

After several minutes and Stiles realizing that he feels incredibly calm and ready to sleep for at least forty-eight hours, Derek pulls away slightly. Not so much that he could release Stiles or even loosen his hold, just enough so that Stiles can look him in the eye and it not feel like a challenge of any sort.

"You," Derek squeezes him to emphasize or grab his attention, he isn't sure, "are Pack."

He says it so sincerely and with so much feeling that Stiles can only feel stunned. He thinks he must have said "What", because Derek is saying it again, and his eyes are scrunching up, like this is so important.

"You, Stiles, are Pack. My Pack. Hale Pack. You are part of us. Not used by us, not pitied by us. You are one of us. Pack."

Stiles stares at him, still shocked and really not knowing what to even say to that. Thanks? I'll keep that in mind? I know? It all feels so strange though.

Derek keeps on saying it though. Over and over, and each time he does, Stiles feels like relief is washing over him, taking down his walls, engulfing him. And then he's sobbing again, but goddammit, he's PACK. He really is. Derek said it, his Alpha, without even hesitating. Seriously. That just happened.

Bam.

He's hiccupping and tears are everywhere, and jumbled words are coming out all garbled so badly that they don't even hold a meaning to him, but Derek's there. His Alpha's there. Just hugging him. It's so strange. It probably won't ever happen again, he realizes, and that scares him. He knows that Derek is being his Alpha and comforting him because he can and he should and he needs to. Everything he read tells him the Derek has to be here right now for him, because if Derek heard his heart through all of that, and if he is Pack, then Derek felt everything that Stiles felt through that entire ride home.

That thought is terrifying. Somewhat liberating, but still absolutely terrifying.

Stiles knows that only an Alpha can do that to his Pack, the Pack can't do that. They can sense feelings, scent most of them, but they can't feel exact. Only an Alpha can.

So, Stiles soaks this all in, feeling incredibly thankful, and finally grips Derek back. He hadn't realized his hands had just been idly at his sides, but when he does, they grip Derek and his shirt and hold on for dear life.

Because Derek knows. Derek felt. And Derek will stay for as long as Stiles needs him to.

The entire time through Stiles hiccups and sobs, all Derek can think is relief. Relief that Stiles accepted it finally and relief that his wolf is now only calmly claiming mine mine mine over and over again in his head. He knows that it's an Alpha thing. That the wolf is joyful over Stiles accepting the Pack, and by extension him as an Alpha. Somehow, it means more that it's Stiles. Probably because Derek knows that Stiles is smart, that he knows so much more than the others do about Werewolves right now and what Pack means. It was simple for them to accept, they needed him in order to survive and their acceptance was hardwired into them. He bit them, they were his, and they weren't even aware of how deeply that went.

Stiles understood all of it, he even understood what Alpha meant without having a literal wolf scratching at him on the inside, and he did not need an Alpha in order to survive. Sure, he needed protection, but Derek was already giving him that, and so was Scott, even if he was doing a poor job.

Derek could feel his heart and chest swell. This did so much for his wolf and his pride. It made him feel like he really was doing this right, like he really could be the Alpha after all.

'With the Alpha Pack coming that might change,' he reminds himself. His wolf and pride feeling knocked down a peg.

Derek inhaled deeply, the scent filled with Stiles and almost only Stiles. There was a hint of Derek's own scent there, but only just. He grimaced. The Pack would have to fix that. He took a mental note, deciding to text everyone else later about it.

Inhaling again, Derek noticed Stiles was calming down, his heartbeat evening out and his emotions settling somewhat, well, at least in comparison. That calmed Derek a little too, he hadn't noticed that his muscles were ridged, but apparently they were. Knowing that Stiles was half way to sleep was definitely a great help.

He had helped him. Derek had helped Stiles.

Pack.

Mine.

Protect.

He holds Stiles up until he knows that he is most definitely nearly asleep, and then he simply and swiftly picks him up to set him down gently on his bed. With his eyes shut and moth closed, Derek takes in just how wrecked Stiles is right now. That is unacceptable. He can feel a whine creeping up the back of his throat but bites it off before it can wake Stiles.

Derek stays for hours. Hears the Sheriff come home, watches him check on his son, listens to him mutter how much Stiles is like his mother as he musses his hair, and still he stays. He hides himself in the darkness of Stiles' room until he is sure everyone in the house is safe, calm, and asleep.

When he is sure that Stiles is safely and soundly asleep, he steps out the window and glances back as he shuts it behind himself. 'He has accepted Pack. He will be safe. Everything will be much better now.'

Derek could not have been more wrong.

Author's Note:

Huuray! So, I'm super excited for this, and pretty much plan to keep this an on-going, forever, whenever I can update, fanfic. Yeah, one of those. ANYWAY! Thanks for reading!

Please review if you have any comments, questions, concerns, or advice. It would be much appreciated!