Chapter 4


It happens briefly. A bright yellow glow that glazes the surface of his eyes. Derek almost misses it, faint in the darkness, as Stiles approaches him with an uncertain grin. The two wolves glare threateningly at him but remain in their place.

"You… can control wolves," he says breathlessly, taking an unconscious step back. Stiles's hand shoots up halfway as if to stop him, but retracts quickly. Derek can't read his expression clearly. He's not close enough.

"Wolves, dogs, birds." The smile returns to his face, eyes clear in the moonlight. "Any animal really. And it's not really controlling them. That's a bit too dark and sinister sounding, don't you think?" He glances back fondly at his new companions. "I just get them. And they get me. It's, like, a thing."

A year ago, Derek might have rolled his eyes and high-tailed it away from this crazy. But right now, given the circumstances, it all seems to click strangely into place. He takes a couple of steps towards Stiles.

"I see. I mean, that's—" He sees the look of what he can now confidently place as concern flicker across the other's face. "—cool. That's really cool." He smiles at Stiles, whose shoulders visibly unwind. Derek can feel the warmth returning to the boy with a quick glance. He doesn't look away. It's a little odd. It's invasive. And it's bizarre that Stiles doesn't seem to mind.

"Well you've got yours, and I've got mine, so I guess we're two for two."

"No kidding."

Derek can't really help it, as they stand there face to face. He feels the pull of those golden eyes, the draw of another human mind, and suddenly time seems to slow to a syrupy stop. Daggers of bliss and sorrow strike simultaneously in the pit of his stomach as a wheelhouse of emotions drag over him. The love for a father, the joys of friendship, the grief of loss and loneliness. Years of secrecy and deceit break him at the edges; shards of trust fall meagerly to the ground. Memories of lies and misunderstandings flash intermittently among images of a Sheriff, of Scott, of friends from school, and of a woman who fades away quietly. Flights of happiness, of jokes and good conversation, weave in and out among the sounds of laughter and music. Everything attacks his senses at once; it begins to overwhelm Derek, threatens to overtake his own consciousness. He wills himself away and reaches for the distant sounds of Stiles's voice. With a blink, he finds himself staring at a raised eyebrow.

"Are you…?"

"Sorry." He shakes his head, not so much as a response, but so as to clear the thoughts clouding his mind. Stiles raises another eyebrow in return.

"Alrighty then. Shall we?" He nods his head back towards the wolves. "They'll stay with us for now. You know, just in case."

Derek laughs. A little bit of tension drains from his limbs.

"What a strange little world we've just stepped into."


"I really can't believe they killed off Spider-man. He was the best, you know. Totally underappreciated."

"Totally," Derek murmurs. He nods in agreement, but remains trained on the ground, preoccupied in his own thoughts. The soft thumps of four extra pairs of paws had initially kept catching him off guard, but they now merely blend into the background of the winter night.

It's a little unfair, isn't it?

He muses silently over the newfound understanding he has of the boy walking beside him. It's suddenly as if he's known him for years, for all his life even. He's never gone this deep before. Those previous experiences had been surface level, cursory glances into other lives without himself really knowing what was going on. He had scrutinized people through their lies, gotten a feel for their personality, but never like this. Never has he witnessed an entire history with one simple look. Then again, he's hardly ever had the chance.

And yet he knows nothing about me. It doesn't seem right.

"Stiles," he interrupts him in the middle of another rant.

"What? Are we there?"

"No, I just—I need to talk to you." The forest falls silent around them as they stop walking.

"Well, that's what we've been doing for the past hour or so. You know. Talking. If you haven't noticed, there's no one else out here to talk t—"

Derek waves a hand his face. "No, I mean about earlier, when we—I was." He gestures between the two of them. Somehow Stiles gets it.

"Yeah, I figured."

"What?"

"You had this eye-glowy thing going on. It seems to happen whenever you, you know."

Derek considers this for a moment. "You too."

"Huh?"

"Your eyes. Back then with the wolves." He points a finger at the two animals watching them curiously.

"Really? That. Is. AWESOME." Stiles breaks into a wide grin. "I knew I wasn't going crazy earlier, in the car, when I thought—"

"Wait, Stiles, that's not the point. It's not right of me to do that. To breach your privacy like that."

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly, brushing flakes of snow off his jacket. "No big."

Derek cocks an eyebrow. "No big?"

"Yeah, no big. You know, the opposite of yes small." He rolls his eyes. "But actually. Don't worry about it."

"Look Stiles, you don't understand, I know way more about you than I shou—"

"Derek, I said it's fine. Seriously, dude." He smiles frankly at Derek, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "I get it. I trust you."

"You trust me? You don't even know me."

"You saved my life, didn't you?" For some reason, that catches Derek off guard.

"I—I suppose so."

"There you go. And you should be so worthy of my trust. It doesn't come that easily."

"Yeah, I know."

Stiles pauses at that, tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "Maybe this will be a little weird." He laughs a moment later and pushes Derek forward along the path. They step back into their unhurried stroll through the woods.

It's peaceful. It's calming.

And in all honesty, the entire night's been a nice change of pace.

"Well, then. I guess if you want to play fair, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? I would venture to ask what you already know about me, but I think I'm going to stay away from that for now." He smirks at Derek. "You know, for my own sanity."

Derek snorts. "Fair. What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why don't you tell me about your family?"

"Oh," he mutters softly.

"Unless you don't want to," Stiles quickly spits out.

"No, it's okay. I already know about—" He waves a hand in Stiles's general direction. "—all of that anyway."

"I see. I guess the upside is less awkward silences during the whole 'getting to know you' phase." He laughs brightly, sincerely. Derek can't help but smile.

"Maybe. There's not too much to say, though." He faces forward, his lips curling into a slight frown, eyes concentrating on the path ahead. "My family died in a fire nine years ago. My parents, two brothers, a sister, cousins even. All gone." He notices a nod out of his peripheral.

"The Hale fire." He pauses. "I thought your name sounded familiar. I just didn't make the connection."

"Yeah, well I was out of town that weekend. In New York actually, just trying to… figure out my life or something. For better or for worse, I wasn't there that day in Beacon Hills. Neither was my sister, Laura. We met back the week after. The only person to survive was our uncle, who at the time was charred beyond recognition. He's alive though. Thankfully." For a while, the forest is silent, save their footsteps in the snow. Derek sighs. "He's good now. Tries his best to take care of me when he can. I'm grateful for that."

Stiles's voice is small, cautious. "And Laura?"

"She—" He bites back the words, eyes stinging in the corners.


His cellphone blares violently at his side on the floor of the empty apartment room. Wiping the blur out of his eyes, Derek groans at the clock. 3:30 AM.

"Who the hell…"

He looks at the unknown number and thinks about ignoring it. The phone glares insistently, buzzing angrily into the floorboard.

"Okay, okay," he mutters. "Hello?"

"Is this Derek Hale?"

"Um, yes, who is this?"

"Good morning, Derek. I apologize for calling so early. This is Deputy Sheridan."

Derek's heart stops mid-beat, throat dries.

"Good to hear from you again, Deputy." His voice cracks.

"You too." A heavy sigh sounds from the other end of the line. "I'm deeply, deeply sorry, Derek. I know how hard it's been for you these past few years."

"What happened, Deputy?" He rubs his temples with a free hand. He's forgotten how to breathe. "Is it Peter? Laura?"

"It's Laura. We… we found her body in a corridor of her apartment complex. We were notified by the landlord, who was doing rounds earlier in the evening. I'm sorry, Derek. I wanted to drop by in person, but was unsure if you were home or away for the summer. My sincerest apologies."

Derek is silent on the line, unable to produce any sounds. His chest is tight and constricted, mind numb. The officer clears his throat.

"Please don't hesitate to reach out if you need me."

"Do you know what happened?"

"It's still under investigation, but it—it looks like homicide. I'll keep you posted. Once again, I'm sorry, Derek."

"Thank you," he rasps before hanging up.

He sits up in bed, sheets barely covering his legs. The air is cold, stifling, and deathly still. Moonlight streams in through the ragged blinds, casting long shadows across the mattress and upon the far wall. He stares blindly forward, head light from the shallow, stilted breaths. The phone slips out of his fingers and clatters mutedly to the ground. An overwhelming panic abruptly wrenches at his chest. Tides of anger wrack his body, spilling hot tears down the front of his shirt. An otherworldly cry rips from his lungs as he lunges forward towards his desk. He swipes a heavy arm out, casting papers and pens towards the ground; the porcelain lamp shatters against the wall. He picks up the wooden chair and sends it flying across the room with a howl. And suddenly, he falls to his knees, arms hanging limply at his side. The phone buzzes beside him. He grabs for it and clutches it against his ear.

"I need you." He finds himself sobbing noiselessly into the receiver. "Please."

"I'll be there soon." The phone clicks.

He stays frozen there for half an hour, unable to move, unable to formulate cohesive thoughts. He can't make any sense of it. He's already lost so much, how can he lose anymore? Will it never stop?

No one deserves this. I don't deserve this. Laura promised. She promised me.

A knock on the door startles him. He gets up with a groan, knees cracking from the sudden movement. He steps deftly through the debris into the living room. His hand is shaking as it turns the doorknob and pulls the door open. He grabs Peter instantly, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and burying his face in the crook of his neck. His entire body trembles violently under his uncle's grip. He's 14 again and holding on to the only thing he has left.


"Hey, you okay?" Stiles asks. Derek clears his throat, reaches up to wipe the moisture out of his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He glares perplexedly at his fingers. "I just don't know if I can talk about her right now."

"It's okay. I get it. We can talk about it, or not, later when we're not lost in the middle of this damn forest."

"Later?"

"Yes, later. As in, I'm sure we'll—whoa, is that what I think it is?"

Derek peers through the branches and sees a brief flash of blue and red muffled in the darkness.

"Looks like—"

"Police cars! I would recognize cop lights anywhere. You know, Sherriff's son and all. Dude, that means we're—"

"—saved," Derek sighs, relieved. He doesn't know if he can handle anything else tonight. He's exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Stiles hunches down next to their two protectors and scratches softly behind their ears.

"Thanks guys, but we'll take it from here."

Without a second glance, the wolves turn and leap into the trees, disappearing from sight.

They walk a little faster towards the lights, a slight bounce in their step. As they approach the main road, they notice a group of people huddled next to one of the police cars. Derek can barely make out a familiar voice.

"—yeah, they were in another taxi, not far behind us, when—"

"Scott!" Stiles yells, scrambling over the low railing towards the car. Scott turns around. A bright smile stretches across his face, forcing his sentence unfinished. He runs towards Stiles, pounces on him, and nearly topples the two back over into the forest.

Derek grins and waves at the others. Despite the biting wind picking up along the road between the trees, his chest warms at the sight. He somehow feels the grip of loneliness loosening its hold.


A/N: Thank you guys for following and reading! Reviews and feedback appreciated :)