Derek grabbed the slim column of Stiles' throat, pressing his nose more firmly into the skin behind Derek's ear. He knew that the scent of another wolf would help calm Stiles and even give him a modicum of comfort. The boy's body shook with desperate sobs and Derek's own grief threatened to overwhelm him. It was almost too much and this close it was even worse because Stiles' pain increased his own ten-fold.

It didn't matter though because this wasn't about his pain, it was about Stiles' so Derek wrapped his other arm more firmly around the boys' back clutching him tighter. Stiles' grip on his jacket intensified, his face burrowed deeper into the crook of Derek's neck snuffling wetly and – if he were being totally honest – it was really gross, but he let the boy continue with his scent-marking because it was helping.

Finally Stiles pulled back, letting out a great shuddering breath before asking, "Are you gonna head out for parts unknown as soon as I turn my back?"

Derek shook his head, too choked up to verbalize his answer because even though he felt the relief coming off of Stiles in waves, the kid looked beyond wrecked. Tears were drying in messy trails all over the splotchy pink skin of his face. He'd grown during the last year, gotten broader as well but his cheekbones were far too prominent; it looked as if he wasn't getting his daily allowance of curly fries. Derek wished he had a tissue or something because globs of snot were crusting in the divot between his nose and the upper curve of his mouth. The overall sight was worrisome but not nearly so when compared with the defeated emptiness reflecting back at him from those wounded amber eyes.

Licking his lips, Stiles pinned him with a glare, "I'm still fucking furious at you!"

Derek squeezed Stiles' nape in understanding and pulled until their foreheads touched, replying in a low regretful way, "I know. It's okay. I… I should've been here for all of you. I really am sorry."

"You left," Stiles breathed out brokenly. "We needed you dammit and I'm not just talking about the last few months either. Scott…," he stopped, voice cracking… "He tried, he did but he was so far out of his depth."

Stiles stepped back and Derek had no other choice but to let him, his hand falling to his side feeling strangely cold and empty.

"If you'd been here maybe Scott would've started to understand what being an Alpha was truly all about instead of not knowing his ass from a hole in the ground," Stiles exclaimed sharply. "You could've helped him. You knew he was clueless, but what do you do instead? You and Braeden haul ass outta Dodge."

Derek swallowed hard at the bitterness and anxiety coming from the younger man, and then said, "It's complicated, Stiles." The boy snorted. "I had my reasons," he insisted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to explain myself, especially now, but whether you believe me or not there were legitimate reasons for my leaving the way I did."

"Do you remember the part from earlier where I told you that you're full of shit because it sounds to me like that didn't register with you or something."

It was difficult to take Stiles too seriously considering he looked as if a good stiff wind would blow him over; not to mention him needing a wet, soapy towel scrubbed thoroughly over his cruddy face. It reminded Derek a bit of when they'd first met out here on the Preserve; he'd looked like a pathetic little boy who'd strayed too far off the beaten path then as well.

Stiles must have zeroed in on his amusement because a second later his eyes began to flash red followed by a low rumbling growl which was a clear warning that pissing him off would not be a good idea.

Derek put his hands up in a placating manner and said, "Sorry, it's just… on the surface you couldn't look less like an Alpha right now."

The color climbing up Stiles' face matched that of his eyes. "I bet you don't cry too pretty either, asshole," Stiles shot back, embarrassed and doing his damnedest to hide it.

Derek raised a brow, but said nothing. Stiles was new to this, so he probably kept forgetting that there wasn't much you can hide from other werewolves much less your Pack. He didn't seem to be having any trouble on picking up on Derek's emotions although he was better than most at camouflaging them. Then again, most Alpha's were almost intrusively in-tune with members of their Pack; Derek had always hated that part because privacy was almost non-existent.

"No one does. Well, maybe Lydia. I mean I've seen her cry plenty and other than her mascara running, she still looked like her same old outstandingly beautiful self." Fidgeting a bit, Stiles cleared his throat before adding, "Let's keep the 'old' part between us. Not that she's old or anything, but I really don't need Lydia Martin getting on my case for a misplaced word. She's got kind of a sharp tongue and isn't afraid to use it; don't know if you remember that or not. Not that I let her bully me or anything it's just sometimes it's easier to just let her skewer you with that deadly tongue of hers immediately and get it over with. If you let her simmer; it's way worse because it gives her time to think up devious as hell paybacks and … oh my god, stop me or something would ya?"

This was the Stiles Derek remembered. This goofy, constantly running off at the mouth nerdy goober. The sad thing was that while, in a way, this was still who he was; he was also now something more and that wasn't always necessarily a good thing. Scott, for instance, had not taken to being a werewolf well at all. He'd been too resentful and defiant to accept any help Derek might have offered.

Stiles would be an altogether different case. Stiles could learn, and he would eat it up and soak it in because knowledge was something the younger boy craved. He had an eye for details and research no matter how long and loud he'd complained about it in the past. He'd latch onto that computer of his and didn't let it go until he'd had the answers needed to help the people he cared about. Stiles put people before himself whether they were innocent strangers or his nearest and dearest, and that was rare.

Scott had been a True Alpha; there had been no doubt about it. But, this kid; Scott's best friend since childhood – this spastic, dork of a teen-ager who had a tendency to run his mouth off at an alarming rate – had the capacity to be a great one. And, right then and there, Derek decided he was going to stay around. He was going to stay and do his best to help make Stiles Stilinski the best damn alpha Beacon Hills had ever seen