Chapter 2: The Wolf Knows

Half an hour later Stiles found himself sitting in his Jeep, nervously scanning the shadows that edged the dirt parking lot at Boyce's deserted yard. As he checked the time on his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes, he heard the passenger door-lock click. Derek slid into the seat next to him and pulled the car door shut.

"Deaton said you wanted to talk," the werewolf stated indifferently, with no preamble.

"No. I'm not looking for a discussion or a debate. I just need you to stop stalking me. Give me your word you'll stop and we don't need to talk about anything."

"You don't understand," Derek snapped.

"Oh my god, no I don't!" Stiles felt like he could hit the next person who told him that – although maybe not if they were a werewolf. "How can I understand when no-one will explain? So no, I don't understand. Care to enlighten me?"

Silence filled the space between them uncomfortably.

Stiles was about to tell Derek to get the hell out of his car, when the werewolf asked suddenly, "What did Deaton tell you?"

"Deaton? Clams are more communicative. All he said was that I needed to talk to you. And some weird stuff about me being a threat to you, which, though good for my ego, is ridiculous."

"He said nothing else?"

"Other than that this would be a good place for privacy, no."

"Yes, we can't be overheard here, not even by another werewolf, not without them coming onto this plateau and I would know we weren't alone then," Derek drew in a breath. "I mostly appreciate Deaton's discretion but not about this."

"Can we just drop the cryptic crap? Yes, this is an awesome location," Stiles moaned sarcastically, "and if you want me to swear some kind of confidentiality agreement, you got it. Now can you just explain why you're stalking me and agree to stop?"

Derek sighed and stared out of the windshield for a while more before Stiles barked angrily, "Anytime this century would be good."

Derek cut a glance at him before asking, "What do you know about werewolf lore?"

"Plenty. But I'm talking about you being Mr Stranger Danger, not having a pop quiz about all things furry on the full moon. Start explaining or get out and I go see my dad."

"You don't need to do that. And he wouldn't believe you. You're the only one who sees me. My wolf is careful."

Stiles felt a slither of panic slip into his chest, razor-sharp and painful enough to take his breath away.

"Stiles, that wasn't a threat. Calm down. I don't mean you any harm and I'm not stalking you…"

Stiles opened his mouth to protest but Derek continued, "I know, it must look like that to you. I don't want to scare you. Or hurt you. That's so far from what I want. It's just that as the full moon approaches my wolf needs to be near you even more. To make sure you're safe. "

"Why me? No, actually, I don't even care. Just stop!" Stiles demanded shakily.

"I can't. Not on my own," Derek muttered.

"What? Is this like some kind of addiction? Like smoking? Is that it? Do you need the wolfie equivalent of a nicotine patch to quit stalking?"

"I guess 'addiction' is as good a term as any."

"What is it you need in order to stop then?"

"You." Stiles wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"What? Me? How? Why? What?"

Derek turned in his seat to face Stiles. "I'm not good at explaining things, which is why I'd hoped Deaton might have said something. But this compulsion my wolf has to seek you out and watch over you is too strong for me to just stop. The forces compelling my wolf to do this are primal, fundamental. I'm sorry."

"You can keep your apologies," Stiles said angrily, "just tell me what the hell is going on and what it's got to do with me. Knowing you can't control your wolf side is seriously scary."

"You're in no danger…"

"Have you met you?" Stiles cut in.

"My wolf just wants to keep you safe."

"Why would your wolf be concerned with my safety?"

Derek sighed heavily. "My wolf sees you as my…my mate. My bond-mate. It's a once-in-a-lifetime pairing and my wolf has identified you as mine. Until we are paired, there's a kind of instinct that pulls me to your side to protect you and, um, bond with you."

"Wha… What? No, that still makes no sense. Mate? Lifetime pairing? What is that? Is that like a, um," Stiles' voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, "a romantic thing?" He tried to recall his research on the subject of werewolf mating habits as he felt that traitorous spike of arousal spark through him.

Derek turned back to stare out of the windshield. "Yeah, I guess," he said glumly, "It's like finding your soul-mate. The one person in the whole world that you're meant to be with."

Stiles' brow furrowed as he tried to tamp down his optimism. "You do know that the 'one person in all the world' soul-matey stuff is a total myth, don't you? Invented by Hollywood?"

"Not for werewolves. Regular wolves pair for life and we're no different. We find a mate, just like humans, but we spend the rest of our lives together," Derek stated sullenly, his eyes still fixed on a spot in the darkness beyond the Jeep. "But for some werewolves though, there is a bond-mate out there, their one true mate. It's extremely rare. But when it happens, when we find our bond-mate, we are compelled by our wolf side to protect them until we're bonded. That's why I've have to watch over you: so my wolf knows you're safe.

"I can't stop because this 'addiction' to be at your side is too powerful, even for me. I've thought of chaining myself up, locking myself away. But the instinct is too overwhelming and painful if denied. I am compelled all the while we are unbonded."

"Because your wolf sees me as, what, your potential significant other? And you can't talk sense to it?" Outwardly Stiles may have sounded outraged, but inside his stomach flipped with something that might have been excitement.

"You think I want this?" Derek said bitterly, "You think I wanted my wolf to fall for you? That I wouldn't put a stop to this if I could?"

"Hey!" protested Stiles, anger replacing hope. "You don't have to sound so revolted by the idea. Some people might find me attractive relationship material. Not Lydia, admittedly, and, well okay, the jury's still out on gay guys, but …."

"Christ, Stiles, it's not that. But I'm older, I'm a guy and I'm a werewolf with a personality to match. You're young with your life ahead of you, you're straight and you don't need this werewolf stuff ruining your life."

"Oh-kaay, two out of three there, Mr Wolf. I think the correct term is 'bi', FYI."

Derek looked sideways at him, puzzled, before his expression changed as he suddenly realised what Stiles had said.

"Oh, okay, my mistake. What with all the 'Lydia this' and 'Lydia that'…"

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Stiles shrugged. "Me and Lydia go way back. Before I'd even heard the word 'gay' so what did I know?"

"Well, that doesn't change anything; I'm not about to bond with a teenager."

"So, what? You're just gonna follow me around like some lovesick puppy for, what, the rest of my life? 'Cause that's gonna suck. For both of us, I'd guess."

"Banishment," Derek said in a voice so quiet that Stiles wondered if he'd forgotten that humans don't have werewolf hearing.

"Banishment? What do you mean? From my life? From Beacon Hills?"

"From North America," Derek muttered under his breath.

"Say again?" Stiles said, blinking rapidly at the profile of the man who, until a few minutes ago, had seemed like a serious menace and who now looked too defeated to be much of a threat to a Chihuahua.

"I wouldn't be able to remain on the same continent. The pull of an un-bonded mate would be too great. Distance and large bodies of water can help me cope, supress the urge to, um, bond." Derek shrugged and glanced across at Stiles as if to let him see the sincerity in his face, which had lost the arrogance Stiles had come to associate with the man.

"It would be that bad for you?" Stiles asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes. I doubt I would survive without crossing water. Even when I was in New York, after the fire, I could still feel the pull of my family here in Beacon Hills. And they were dead and that was just a familial bond, not an unpaired mate-bond which is infinitely stronger."

"God, Derek, I don't want you to have to leave your home because of me," Stiles was aghast.

"Not because of you, Stiles. Because I am a werewolf and because my wolf side has chosen you as its mate. None of that is down to you."

"But you'd be leaving because I said 'no' to being your mate. That's right, yeah?"

"It's hardly your fault that my wolf picked you. It's my fault. I'm sorry, Stiles."

"If I've understood this, none of it is down to you either. And your wolf is just, what? Going on instinct? A sort of blind instinctive force that makes no logical sense? Not really your fault – or your wolf's."

"It's more than that Stiles. I had to ask Deaton what this all meant because I wasn't sure. Bond-mates are so rare. From what Deaton told me, the choice of mate is actually a rational decision as well as an instinctual one. The wolf feels an attraction, but it also makes a judgement about that person before confirming its choice of bond-mate. That's why it doesn't happen often.

Derek pushed a hand through his hair making it stick out in all directions. "Deaton should really explain this."

"Deaton's not here. You are," Stiles observed tetchily. "I'm not sure I've understood what you're telling me. You're saying that your wolf side felt a, what, a romantic inclination towards me?"

Derek nodded, his eyes now focused somewhere near his boots.

"But, what, there's more to it than just having a crush on someone? Your wolf considers a candidate's suitability to be a, um, bond-mate before sealing the deal?"

"Yes. As Deaton explained it to me, a prospective mate has to measure up in other ways or the wolf will reject them. I remember my dad saying something like that when I was growing up. He was my mom's human bond-mate."

"Oh. Okay. There's precedent. Good to know. So, anyway, that means I must 'measure up' or you wouldn't be stalking me, yeah?"

"How can you even ask? Of course you do. That's what makes this so fucking difficult," Derek snapped with sudden vehemence.

"Hey, calm down. What did I say that's got you so mad?"

Derek's face fell and he was back to looking like someone had just kicked his puppy. (Which must be like kicking a close relative, Stiles thought before he wrenched his focus back.)

"God, I'm sorry, Stiles. Look, I get that this has put you in a difficult situation."

"Scratch 'difficult' and try 'intimidating' and 'mind-boggling'."

"Look, you just need to know that the 'stalking' will end. You won't see me again after tonight," Derek said wearily, running his hand through his hair again. He opened the car door. "I'll leave for Europe in the morning."