Scott told him later that there was another pack meeting and when Stiles asked why he hadn't been dragged to it, Scott said that Derek deemed Stiles' presence at this one unnecessary but optional. Stiles sighed and fell back to his mattress, letting his phone slip out of his fingers. It probably had something to do with the previous night.
Stiles didn't know if Derek simply considered him too fragile to attend the meetings anymore at the moment or if he was now not allowed to leave the house until the threat passed. Either way, Stiles was surprised to find how little he cared. He did care about why Derek Hale had calmed his panic attack and helped him sleep, though.
It really was pretty considerate of the Alpha to enter his room in the middle of the night to help end the attack, and Stiles figured he'd probably better express the gratitude he begrudgingly admitted to feeling. He pushed himself up to his elbows and looked over his room, thinking. The house was empty, but he didn't feel like occupying any other room, even though he usually utilized all of the first floor, particularly the TV speakers, when he was home alone.
He sighed and hoped that he wasn't going crazy or turning into some skittish shell of a human being because really that was what had him in his room, the fear of the other pack and what they might try now that their plan had been foiled again. All of his protectors were away, so he was fairly screwed if the other wolves decided on an attack now. He knew he shouldn't think about it, but in the not so distant past, ignoring things had never worked out well for Stiles and the pack.
Downstairs, Stiles heard the cracking sound of the front door sticking as it opened and he froze. It had to be either his dad or Scott, he told himself. He got up and went to his door, figuring that his dad would be confused if he weren't downstairs. His stomach felt heavy and Stiles wished he had some way of knowing whether it was valid or if it was just his body reacting too strongly to nothing.
In his doorway, Stiles leaned into the hallway and called out. "Dad?"
"Definitely not." Stiles turned toward the voice to find a large male werewolf standing at the end of the hallway. The man's hands were casually stuck in the pockets of his hoodie and he looked at Stiles with a sharp smile. Stiles swallowed, but couldn't bring himself to do anything. The man shifted forward and suddenly Stiles' legs moved, back a step. The wolf cocked his head to the side and smiled again. "You really don't think you'll get away this time do you? We have the house surrounded and we know that the pack you spend your time around is miles away."
Eyes wide, Stiles rushed to the window in his room, looking out to see a ring of werewolves around his house, gazing up at his window in calm expectation. They knew what was going to happen and had no concerns about failure. Stiles had the awful feeling that they were all staring at him as soon as he appeared in the window.
Not knowing how much time he had, but knowing there wasn't much, Stiles ducked away from the window and swept as much of his desktop into his jacket pocket as he could in the space of a second. He turned to see the werewolf now occupying his doorway, still smiling that creepy-ass smile at him.
"I suggest you come quietly." Then he moved toward Stiles and the teenager did the only thing he could. He tore open one of the packets from his desk and threw it at the wolf. On impact, the wolf stopped and snarled, scrubbing at his eyes and skin. At the same moment, Stiles launched himself through the door, barely caught himself on the railing, and hurtled down the stairs. He was through the front door in seconds and he was readying another packet for the inevitable pursuit.
There was a chance for him to escape to the Hale house. Stiles was athletic and in good shape, and these two facts added up to a chance that he was willing to take. He wasn't particularly physically strong—especially not in comparison to werewolves—but he was fast and smart and hopefully that would carry him to Derek and the rest of the pack.
At the sound of a wolf on his heels, Stiles spared a single glance over his shoulder—praising the fact that he played lacrosse—and threw the mixture behind him. He heard the results, but it didn't lessen the sound of the chase. Stiles groaned and tore open another packet, throwing it without looking. More pained howls, but not enough.
His anxiety started to rise, and Stiles put on another burst of speed. The odd desire to have Derek at his side hit Stiles then and resulted in him almost tripping when he realized what it was. Stiles immediately rationalized that wanting a strong, powerful, angry alpha werewolf was not unreasonable in his situation, but he somehow knew that it was more than that.
It was the fact that Derek had climbed through his window and cared enough—for whatever mysterious reason—to take away Stiles' panic and not simply stand by and watch. It was the fact that Derek had then made Stiles' brain shut off and go to sleep. It was that Derek had stayed the night, in his room, and had thought to get him coffee the next morning. Stiles knew that it was really the fact that he felt safe and sometimes even valued when he was in the vicinity of Derek Hale.
He was nearing the house and if he'd had any breath in his lungs to spare, he would have cheered. Then a human-like figure appeared in front of him and Stiles had to pull up short, stumbling a little. The other form straightened and Stiles instantly knew that he was looking at a more powerful werewolf than the others. It wasn't the alpha, but it wasn't like the other betas.
Chest heaving, Stiles sized up the new threat, counting down his seconds in his head. A low growl leaked from the throat of the werewolf in front of him, but Stiles stood his ground. A force from behind knocked him to the forest floor in response, sending him sprawling. Stiles' jacket was yanked roughly off of his body and his only real defenses were withdrawn and thrown away along with the jacket.
Stiles tried to get to his feet, but he was pushed down again and held there, the breath punched from his lungs. He grabbed a handful of the dirt and leaves of the forest floor and tossed it futilely behind him. He heard it hit a body and fall back to the ground, making no difference whatsoever, not that he'd expected it to.
The werewolf in charge stepped closer and Stiles could feel the other wolves move to surround the clearing. There weren't as many as before, but Stiles had no hope of getting away from them now. The head werewolf knelt down in front of him and took Stiles' chin in hand, turning his face from side to side. Stiles spit at him and the werewolf merely chuckled before slapping him hard across the face and turning away as Stiles yelped and rolled to the side, raising a hand to cover the split skin.
Stiles recalled Derek telling him that these wolves wouldn't hesitate to harm him and he tried again to swallow his anxiety, swallowing blood with it. The werewolf turned to him again and kicked him swiftly in the side, seeming to exert little energy when doing so. Stiles gasped and clutched at his ribs, forgetting his face.
"Obedience is something you'll have to learn the hard way, it seems. You're very intelligent, though, so I'm confident that you'll learn quickly," the werewolf said, followed by snickers from the other wolves. The werewolf looked down at Stiles in disdain and kicked him again, not as hard this time, but in the stomach. Stiles groaned and rolled to his other side, coughing.
The werewolf drew his foot back again and Stiles braced himself upon seeing that the boot was level with his knees when a loud, furious growl permeated the loaded air and seemed to echo through the clearing. All attention—including Stiles'—snapped to the source of the sound.
Stiles saw a huge black wolf standing between two trees and he felt a grin shape his face, not faltering when the expression stretched his split skin. A mangled laugh escaped his mouth and he shifted his eyes to the lead werewolf. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Everyone was fixated on the wolf and it appeared that even a single alpha werewolf was enough to strike an undetermined amount of betas immobile. Again, Stiles felt like cheering.
The wolf gathered himself up and Stiles rolled out of the way as it barreled toward his captor. The beta seemed unprepared for the strength and ferocity of the attack and fell backwards. The wolf was about the size of a small horse, and, in terms of mass, not much smaller than the werewolf, but it was still thrown off and to the other side of the clearing by the lower ranking werewolf. The wolf quickly regained its feet and snarled at the werewolf who had now shifted into his beta form.
One of the beta werewolves grabbed Stiles from the ground then, claws puncturing his skin. Stiles hissed and tried to pull away, but the hold only tightened, drawing blood and a sharp yelp. At that, the wolf growled and launched itself at the werewolf with new determination, knocking him again to the ground. There wasn't much of a struggle this time, though it was apparent that the other werewolf was fighting hard. Still, the wolf remained on top of his chest by sheer will. With another vicious snarl, the wolf lunged forward, grabbing the other werewolf by the throat and biting down.
The snap echoed through the clearing and when the wolf turned around, all of the other betas ran off. Stiles stumbled a little at being suddenly released and groaned at the shot of pain from his various bruises. He checked his arms, though, since they were the current, bleeding concerns and was satisfied to see that the blood was already clotting. Stiles sighed and watched Derek begin to shift out of wolf form. He looked away when the human body was more recognizable and Derek changed into the clothes he'd brought with him. When Stiles deemed it safe, he turned back.
Derek was looking down at the other werewolf and he growled in his throat, kicking at the corpse. When Stiles turned around, though, he looked up and their eyes met. Stiles felt something pass between them. He didn't know exactly what it was but it was similar to the after-events of the incidents in the police station—both with Isaac and with Matt—and the pool.
The Alpha turned and began walking in the opposite direction of the house. Stiles found himself following a few steps behind, bending down to reclaim his jacket, then hurrying to catch up with Derek.
They walked in silence for a long time and Stiles was slowly becoming aware of a sharp, throbbing pain in his wrist along with the increased soreness of his split lip and bruises as the adrenaline wore out of his body. He didn't complain or react much but to cradle his wrist to his chest to keep his steps from jarring it and breathing around the persistent pain. Eventually the two walkers were out of the trees and on the overhang that looked over Beacon Hills.
Everything was quiet and the half-moon lent its light to the dark wilderness. A chill was creeping up, but it didn't affect the werewolf or the human. Stiles hung back a little, sitting down on a tree stump while Derek stood at the edge, looking over the town. It wasn't long before Derek turned to him and apparently noticed just how abused Stiles had been. He frowned and Stiles watched the werewolf approach, concern written in the green eyes.
Derek stopped in front of him and put a hand on the side of his face, almost absentmindedly as he was still looking into Stiles' eyes. As the werewolf's veins blackened, Stiles felt his pain fade away and his split lip seal. Derek glanced down at his wrist then before looking back at Stiles. Feeling an overwhelming and unexplainable surge of trust, Stiles held his wrist out to Derek and let him take it—with a surprising gentleness—into his hands. Once again, Derek's veins turned black and the swelling subsided as Stiles felt the bones coming back together.
"I must have fractured it when I was pushed down," Stiles observed quietly, marveling at the previously injured joint and twisting it around a little when he had it back in his control. He looked back up at Derek and swallowed. The werewolf was looking at him intently, but didn't appear to actually see Stiles sitting there.
"Derek," Stiles tried getting the Alpha's attention. When Derek's eyes were focused, Stiles swallowed again and braced himself, watching Derek's expression morph into one of confusion as he could obviously tell that Stiles was preparing himself for something. Stiles had to thank Derek and he had to do it now before he lost his nerve.
Stiles focused on his lap and measured the words as they came out of his mouth. "Thanks for, you know, everything. I really appreciate it, and it's nice knowing that there's someone willing to set up a whole squad of protectors for me, no matter how skilled those "protectors" are." He looked up then to see Derek looking at him curiously. "It's nice to feel safe, you know? A lot of people take that feeling for granted. I'm just glad that I have a reason to feel safe, even when I shouldn't feel safe, and you're the one to thank for that. So, thanks. I know that you don't have to do it, or maybe you do, I don't know." Stiles' gaze went back to his lap. "Never mind, just ignore me. I mean, I really am grateful, but you can ignore that other stuff." Stiles winced a little and let the sentence trail off when he fully realized how badly he was rambling.
"Stiles." Derek's voice was much closer and Stiles' eyes snapped up to the Alpha's, his eyebrows asking 'what?' for him. His answer didn't come in words, though.
Derek was directly in front of him, still kneeling so they were on roughly the same level. Their eyes were locked together and Stiles didn't notice when Derek leaned forward until he registered closed eyes a split second before Derek pressed his lips to Stiles'.
The kiss was small and Stiles' eyes remained wide open as his heart thundered in his chest and sparks flew. After maybe two or three seconds, the miniscule pressure on Stiles' lips decreased and Derek was leaning away. Stiles followed Derek's movement as soon as his lips were free and wrapped his arms around the Alpha's head and neck, his own eyes slipping closed as he pushed their lips back together for a firmer, longer, real kiss.
Derek's hands quickly found the sides of Stiles' face in response and he leaned into Stiles and the touch.
They kissed until they both needed to breathe and then they left their foreheads to rest together. Stiles' eyes remained closed and he breathed in short, disbelieving bursts. "Oh my God," he whispered, running his tongue quickly over his lips and gathering everything that happened, putting it together to form an acceptable conclusion.
He moved a little, matched by Derek, and their lips came together again for one more kiss before Stiles drew away and opened his eyes to look at the werewolf who was still cradling his face in hands that Stiles had seen tipped with claws. The soft look in Derek's eyes was not on Stiles' list of expectations and it seemed that the werewolf wasn't surprised at all by the recent events, or maybe he'd gotten over it already. Derek apparently accepted it, though, because he seemed to be waiting for Stiles to say something.
Stiles was unable to do that, though, at least not with words. He felt like a magnet, drawn back to the person in front of him. Wanting more of that strange feeling of right that had been echoing in his head, Stiles again tilted his chin to kiss Derek Hale. Derek responded, angling his head and pushing into the touch, giving Stiles something to push against and effectively making the kiss a bit deeper.
Everywhere, Stiles was surrounded by the vague feeling that something important was happening. Things were clicking into place and his heart was beating steadily at a faster rate than was normal, Derek's heartbeat echoing. A euphoric feeling was rising in his chest and his brain was buzzing. Then something in the air around them—and it felt like a big something—shifted.
At the feeling of the shift, Derek made a noise in his throat similar to a purr and relaxed almost wholly while Stiles' eyes flew open and he gasped. Derek was apparently able to tell that the sound was unrelated to him and he pulled away to look at Stiles, blinking dazedly.
The teenager could feel his wide eyes and his expression of bewilderment. "What was that?" he asked breathlessly, still reeling from the sensation itself.
"What?" Derek's eyebrows were closer together in a frown that spoke more of confusion than irritation.
"That weird, that, I don't know what it was, it felt like something big moved, not a lot just a little bit. I don't know how to describe it." Stiles drew his arms away from Derek's neck to gesture.
"You felt that?" The question was let out on a breath and Derek sounded surprised and disbelieving and amazed all at once.
Stiles nodded vigorously, frowning in confusion himself. "Yeah, of course I did. Wait," he paused, realizing how stupid he was for not just immediately assuming in the first place, "what supernatural thing's going on now? What does it mean?"
Derek smiled and it was unlike anything Stiles had ever seen before. The expression made the Alpha actually look happy and it erased the slight but constant tension of ever-present doom in the man's whole demeanor. Stiles almost felt that he was looking at another person entirely, except that he felt he recognized this Derek. The smile itself was pretty small, but it changed everything. "It means," he said as he leaned closer, "that my wolf has marked you." His eyes pulsed bright red and Stiles felt his own eyes grow before the green returned and the wolf was again contained.
"What does that mean?" he asked, dazed.
Derek's smile grew a little bit. "It means," he whispered, "that my wolf has claimed you as my mate. Werewolves, as I'm sure you know, mate for life and when the mate is chosen and claimed, that person is the only one able to fill the position."
Millions of questions flew through Stiles' mind, drowning out any other thoughts he might have about Derek's explanation. He chose the three big ones. "So, it's a position, nothing more than that?"
Derek looked a little confused at the question and Stiles mentally cursed the inconvenient fact that Derek had always been a wolf. "No, it's a connection, a deep connection between two people. It's a position in the pack, yes, but it's also a bond."
Stiles processed that, feeling his chest loosen marginally. "And this was your wolf deciding, your feelings about the mate don't matter?" Derek simply looked at him and the intensity in his eyes answered Stiles' question, subsequently sending a shiver down his back.
"What about me? Do I get a say in this, or do I just have to accept it?" Stiles heard his voice shake as he asked what might be the most important question and he desperately hoped the answer was what he wanted to hear.
"Of course you do." Stiles' chest loosened in relief and he felt breathing coming easier to him. "The marking doesn't make us mates. The marking only indicates the one person who can be the mate. You have to choose to accept or deny the claim."
Stiles nodded, the weight of his position immediately evident. He was the person standing between Derek having a real connection again that wasn't power or position based and the continuation of the wolf's current isolation. Stiles bit back a sigh at what his life had become and refocused on the truly vulnerable alpha werewolf kneeling in front of him, the question evident in his eyes.
"Can I think about it?" Stiles asked timidly, hoping less for Derek to not be angry and more for the other to not be disappointed or upset.
"Yes. Do. This isn't a decision to be made lightly because we can't undo it." Derek stood up, silhouetted by the moon. He seemed at ease and unbothered by Stiles' need to process and think about such a thing.
"Of course not, nothing can be undone," Stiles sighed, standing up and stretching his back, glancing at the moon as he did so. "I should probably get home, you know."
"That's where I was planning on taking you." Derek wasn't angry—something that Stiles was now getting used to—but his vulnerability had almost completely disappeared, though Stiles felt like he could still detect it in the set of Derek's shoulders. Once Stiles was done stretching, Derek turned and began the trek back to Stiles' house. This time, Stiles walked beside him.
"So, just to clarify, you aren't tempted to kill me anymore?" Stiles asked, running his fingers over the holes in his jacket and debating whether or not they were noticeable enough for him to have to throw it out.
"I wouldn't say that." Derek didn't smile, but Stiles caught the humor in his tone.
"You're really funny." Stiles mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and playing with the one packet that the other wolves missed, still trying to decide about the jacket.
Derek was apparently able to hear the package in his pocket because he asked about it. "I know that you did something to them."
Stiles drew it out and let the package lay flat in his palm so Derek could see it clearly. "It's a mixture of mountain ash and wolfsbane that I made when I noticed the people following me around." He shrugged. "I figured it was supernatural related, hence the mountain ash, and for extra security I threw in the wolfsbane." Stiles laughed a little and tossed the packet in the air, catching it on its descent, and putting it back in his pocket. "I'll have to make some more, but now I know it works." He grinned at Derek and was caught off guard when Derek smiled back. It was close-lipped and miniscule, but it was there.
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