(Note: Guys, I'm sorry about the late uploads. Between classes and my upcoming Christmas holiday exams, I'm finding producing two chapters a week to be quite a challenge. So, once again, I'm sorry, and please try to understand.)
Stiles ran. The dead leaves didn't crunch under his feet, for it was raining and they had gone soft. The rain was also masking the sound of his predator's footsteps. He had no way of knowing where she was, whether she was ten feet or ten miles away. But he was sure it wasn't the latter.
He ran faster, the adrenaline fuelled his legs. The blood pumped through him at a dangerous speed and his eyes watered. He was alone, and he was being chased like a dog. There was nothing he could do to save himself. He tripped and crashed into a tree, but the cold had numbed all his nerves. He turned back around quickly and pressed his back to the tree. His eyes shot from left to right, looking for any sign of movement. He had to do something.
Immediately, he thought of a fireball in his mind, and within a second he performed a well-practiced spell. The ball of heat sprang from his hands and whooshed at another tree, where he thought he saw something. The trunk went black, but didn't catch on fire. It was too wet. Stiles was barely able to conjure up any fire at all, let alone make out a decent target. But suddenly, the footsteps were audible. They were clear. And they were close.
As the distance became smaller, he still couldn't see her. He was certain she was coming from somewhere in front of him but there was no shape that resembled her in the shadows. Stiles' eyes widened, hoping that maybe he could see her before she found him. He glanced from left to right again, and that was when the ground started shaking. The rumbling grew stronger and stronger, until he was forced to get down. He tried to keep his eyes on alert, but it was useless. In the commotion, a hand reached out from behind him and grabbed him by the throat.
She slashed his throat.
Stiles flung out his arm in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, and ended up punching Derek in the stomach. He bent over and coughed, the surprise causing the reaction more than anything else. Stiles realized they were both still in bed, and Derek had been bending over Stiles trying to wake him up from his evident nightmare.
Fuck, he thought. He was about to ask Derek if he was okay, when he noticed the source of the thunderous earthquake of his dream. His phone was buzzing.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Morning Stiles." It was his father. "I haven't seen you since yesterday morning, thought I'd just check in. You slept over at Scott's right?"
Stiles swallowed. He hated lying to him, but he didn't really see an alternative to this.
"Yeah," he said simply. He looked at the clock. "We're actually getting into a class right now."
"Good," he said, satisfied. Stiles was thankful that his dad wasn't looking into his eyes. He'd be able to see the lie. "See you later," he said and hung up. Stiles pushed the red button and turned to Derek.
"Shit!" he exclaimed.
"What?" Derek asked, confused, but not alarmed.
"I'm late for school," he said, and jumped out of bed. His abdomen hurt a little, but that was the least of his problems at the moment.
"No, you don't have to go to school today," Derek reassured him, not moving from the softness of the bed.
"Why not?" Stiles asked, the frown lines lightening up.
"I gave Scott a note to give to the school today, excusing your absence. I didn't think you'd be well enough to go in today." Stiles smiled.
"Who did you sign it as?" he asked.
"Your father," Derek said.
"So, you faked the Sheriff's signature?" Stiles asked with his eyebrows raised.
"It's fine," Derek asked. "They wouldn't think to call him and check it, nobody would be stupid enough to risk that."
"Except… you?" Stiles said with a smirk.
"Or am I pure genius?" Derek smirked back. Stiles thought about the classes he'd be missing, but he wasn't about to pass on an entire morning with Derek. He let out a small laugh and became aware of himself. He was naked and standing right in front of Derek. He was naked too, but his lower body was under the covers as he sat on the bed. Derek looked Stiles up and down and his eyes flashed red, savoring every inch of the body he'd roughly made love to the night before. Stiles confidently crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"And what would you be staring at?" Stiles asked with a devious grin.
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just observing," he said.
"You know, this relationship is becoming very sexual, very soon. Even for a normal one. And to think you were the one who wanted to keep sex off the table," Stiles teased some more.
"Well if you're not comfortable with something like intercourse, maybe we can just keep it on pause for a little while… Maybe a few months, just to get things straight in your head," Derek countered with a smirk just as devious. He flipped the covers off him and stood up as he slowly walked to Stiles. He had to admit, Derek's body was as hot as they come. He couldn't decide on a favorite body part.
"Things are definitely straightened out in my head," Stiles said and laughed as Derek smiled at him and neared him, obviously going for a kiss. "But, if you're having doubts—" he laughed some more and was cut off as Derek's lips –and his entire body- pressed against Stiles'.
"That didn't feel doubtful, now did it?" Derek asked quietly as he held Stiles.
"Not particularly," Stiles' smiled. Their faces were so close every time he spoke his lips brushed against Derek's. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. The second time he spoke.
"I was going to say something cute but your stomach is just unbelievable right now," Derek said.
"How the hell can you hear that? I can barely feel it!" Stiles protested. There was really no privacy at all when you were living with werewolves. Derek chuckled his deep rumble of a chuckle and Stiles felt his body reverberate.
"How about some breakfast?" Derek suggested.
"Okay," Stiles accepted, not really needing any further encouragement. "Nothing fancy like last night though."
"Oh don't worry, I won't be doing that anymore," Derek said and took a serious face. "I was just trying to get you to put out." Stiles grinned and pinched Derek's ass. He reluctantly got dressed, unlike Stiles who jumped at the opportunity to submerge himself in Derek's clothing once more. Soon enough they were downstairs, and they were alone. Erica's brand new car was gone, probably at school with Isaac. Derek highly valued their getting a decent education. He was like a father to them. Stiles considered asking Derek who and why bought that car, but he decided it didn't really matter.
"So, what's on the menu for today?" Stiles asked as they barged through the kitchen door.
"How about glazed ham?" Derek joked lamely.
"I was thinking about something along the lines of pancakes, but if you want the ham…"
"Pancakes sound like an okay compromise."
They both got to cooking like a happily married couple. Stiles made the mix and Derek let him light the gas with his spark spell, before he fried them. He didn't trust Stiles to actually make them in fear that they would turn out to be globs instead of flat. Only a few minutes later, they were both sat down and eating. Every time food was involved, they were both quiet. Like a match made in heaven.
Stiles thought about the nightmare he'd had. Could his predator have been Janice? She wasn't really out for revenge, was she? She'd probably just enjoy her freedom; seek to find a different pack to join.
"What are you thinking about?" Derek suddenly said, pulling him away from his thoughts. Stiles looked at him blankly.
"Nothing in particular," he said.
"You're blood pressure was raised, like you were worried, like it was serious. 'Nothing' isn't serious," Derek said. Stiles sighed.
"Just Janice," he said reluctantly. Derek's face went from curious to pained.
"She's gone for now Stiles. Don't think about her," he said solemnly.
"She's still out there."
"And she's weak. And alone. Don't worry."
"Is that why you're having every member of the pack over at four? To discuss how easily you can take care of her? How can you say there's nothing to worry about?"
"There's nothing to worry about because I'm not letting her get to you again." Stiles didn't reply. He just looked at his Alpha and sighed. They began eating once more, in silence.
"Thanks," Stiles said when they were both done. He got up with his plate in his hands, ready to wash it. Instead, Derek grabbed it out of his hands and shove both their plates in the sink. "Derek, I'm not helpless, you know. There's some things I can still do on my own. For example, I don't want you to go through all the trouble of making me a big romantic dinner, or protecting me from the big bad wolf, or even cleaning up after me. I just—" Stiles stopped when Derek turned around. There were tears in his eyes begging to be set free.
"You died, Stiles. You were practically dead in my arms, and Deaton saved you. What if he'd gotten here a couple minutes later? What if his healing wasn't good enough? Do you even know how lucky you are to have healed so quickly? If anything bad happens to you ever again, and if I can't say that I've done everything I could have possibly done to stop it, I don't know if I'd be able to live with that. You have no idea how much you mean to me Stiles. All of this," he said, and gestured to the air between them, "this might just be the result of yesterday for you, or it might just mean the world, and that's okay. But for me, the only thing I know is that, for me it's too big for words."
Stiles could do nothing but stare. He had definitely not been expecting that kind of reaction, over something so simple. Derek had opened himself up to him, he had shown himself when he was at his most vulnerable, and Stiles remembered that he'd cried when Janice had attacked him. He really wondered if Derek was in love with him. One thing was certain; Stiles' heart broke when he saw Derek so hurt, and knowing that it was him that caused those tears just ripped him apart. But he kept it to himself. He slowly and quietly walked to Derek, and put his arms around his waist. After a few seconds, he felt Derek let out a huge sigh, and his body relaxed. He hugged Stiles back.
"Okay," said Stiles. They stood there for two entire minutes, until Stiles could hear Derek's heartbeat go back to normal by keeping his head pressed against Derek's chest. "I'll go check on Scott, see what happened with school. I'll be right back," he said in a low voice, and waited to see a look of approval from Derek's face, like he didn't need for him to stay in his arms a little longer.
He sat on one of the couches and dialed Scott's number. The line rang twice before Scott sent him a busy tone, and a minute later, a text saying he was already in class and couldn't talk. Stiles texted him back asking what happened, if everything went okay with his absence 'excuse'. Scott didn't reply for a little while, and Stiles feared for the worst. The school would have called his dad, and Stiles would be in the biggest trouble he'd been in since he'd gotten him fired. He couldn't believe what was happening when Scott replied, saying all was fine.
Derek walked through the kitchen door, and stood behind the couch, just above Stiles. He leaned over the back and put his face next to Stiles'.
"I've cleaned the dishes," he said.
"Such a good little housemaid," teased Stiles. Derek playfully nibbled on Stiles' shoulder as revenge.
"So, what happens now? What do you usually do when your entire pack is stuck in school?"
"Well, I normally do a lot of thinking and training…" he said softly.
"Thinking about what?"
"About the problem we're facing. There always seems to be some kind of problem going on."
"True," Stiles admitted. "So now we need to come up with a plan to get rid of Janice."
"That's right," confirmed Derek.
"And by get rid of her, you mean kill her." Derek glanced into Stiles' eyes for a second, but continued.
"Yes."
"Okay, so let me help you. There's loads of things in the book about werewolves and their weaknesses. I can look for traps, barriers, attacks, and maybe we can ask Deaton, too." Stiles thought Derek looked thoughtful for a second, like he was contemplating Stiles' idea. He was proud of it; it was one where he was the main character. But Derek didn't have time to reply. He'd heard a car approaching, and was suddenly apprehensive. Stiles mimicked the change in emotion, without knowing its cause just yet.
"There's a car," Derek explained, while staring at the door. "I don't recognize it."
"It might not be someone bad," Stiles suggested.
"Yeah, well, I don't think the ice-cream man comes around here," Derek said and got up. He went to the door and pulled it open, slowly walking out. Stiles followed hesitantly.
"Stay back," Derek commanded. Stiles decided to listen to him. For all he knew, there was a rampant hunter who had decided to torch the house again. He remained in the door frame as Derek walked down the porch steps. Only a few seconds later, a Mustang appeared from within the trees, the engine revving. It was parked right in front of the house, next to Derek's Camaro. It went quiet, and three men got out.
"Derek Hale?" the driver asked. They took his silence as confirmation, and positioned themselves in front of him. All three of them stood in line, with their arms crossed. He continued.
"My name is Marco," he said. "I'm the Alpha of my pack, and these are two of the Betas. Our territory is just north of yours. A rather… distraught woman walked up to my pack last night. We thought she was a human, but, as it turns out, she was a wolf that had been resting here," he said, and nodded at the house, "from her struggles as an Omega. And I use the term 'resting' very loosely," he continued. Derek remained as he was at all times.
"Anyway, long story short, she informed me that your pack consisted of a mere three or four Betas and a few humans. And my pack consists of seventeen quite capable Betas. Now, the size of your territory is almost three times that of our own, yet the size of your pack is three times smaller. You're a smart man Mr. Hale; I hope you can see where I'm going with this." Derek growled.
"You have a week to inform us of your decision," Marco went on, ignoring Derek's threat. "Just to be clear, our request is this: give us your land before we are forced to take it." At this, Marco's unconvincing smile turned into an ugly and twisted expression that was meant to be intimidating, Stiles guessed. It succeeded. He noticed that all the wolves were ignoring him. He guessed it wasn't because they hadn't noticed him; his heart was racing, they would have heard that. Maybe they just smelled that he was a human, and didn't think much of him.
"Thank you for your time," Marco said courteously, and gave a tiny bow. He retreated to the car and got in, and his Betas followed. The Mustang engine revved into life, and the car was expertly driven off. The Betas hadn't said a single word while they were standing on either side of their leader – Stiles assumed they had only come to make Marco look more imposing, and in case things got ugly. Derek remained standing where he was.
"Derek?" Stiles called.
No response. Stiles walked out of the house and stopped behind Derek, and put a hand on his back. His muscles immediately relaxed and he let out a heavy, heavy sigh.
"Derek?" he asked again, lighter. He turned and looked at Stiles. His expression was tense, and the muscles in his face were tight but he showed no other emotion; his mouth neither smiled nor frowned and his eyebrows were completely still. There was nothing there, like he'd gone void.
"You okay?" he asked Derek.
"Yeah," he said. Stiles raised his eyebrows, expecting more. "I have to tell this to the rest of the pack," Derek said reluctantly.
"That's not a bad thing," Stiles said, frowning. "You can get their advice on what to do… I told you, you don't need to be the one who's always responsible for everything, and you don't need to be the Alpha who always makes all the tough decisions. Being in a pack is what makes us all stronger, literally. Wolves are stronger in a pack, in a team. Talk to them, Derek."
"It's not that simple," he said in a flustered tone. "They're teenagers. I can't tell them that they're forced to fight for their lives or run like hell." Stiles looked at him with pained eyes. He really did care about them, even if he did give them grief every time he saw them.
"You're not the one forcing this upon them, Marco is. You can't blame yourself for everything bad that happens to us."
Derek ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired of this crap."
"Tired of what?" Stiles said, taken aback.
"Tired of this Alpha business. I'm in my mid-twenties, and I'm trying to lead a pack. I have no idea what I'm doing Stiles. Did you see that guy? Marco had to be at least forty; I can't beat that kind of experience. Even if he wasn't born a wolf, I can't do this on my own."
Stiles' eyes flicked from his veined neck, to his eyes.
"So don't. Let me help you." Derek scoffed very softly, and a small, sad smile appeared. "I can help," insisted Stiles.
"Really?" Derek said, and looked into Stiles' eyes. There was a very small hint of appreciation there, but not enough. He just came off as cold and mocking. "You can fend off seventeen werewolves all of a sudden?"
"At least I can help you," Stiles said. "Let me do something, you know, I'm in the pack too. This involves me just as much as any other member."
"Just—No, Stiles. I don't want to talk about this right now. I'll tell them when they're coming over later," Derek said dismissively. He started walking towards the house.
"Derek, stop ignoring me!" Stiles shouted. Derek turned around with a face of confusion and surprise. "You have no idea how frustrating this is! You're just constantly falling apart in front of my eyes, and I want to help you because I love you, and you're not letting me!"
Derek scoffed again and gave another sad smile.
"First of all, you don't really love me; we've been together for a day, at best."
"I don't care Derek, I still love you."
"Come one, you're only a teenager."
"Well, I love you anyhow."
Stiles practically jumped at Derek's face and pressed his lips against Derek's. He felt Derek gasp, and he pushed his tongue forward, finding that of his lover's and playing with it. His hands roamed around the small of Derek's back, and they slowly moved up as they got into their embrace. Derek frowned and kissed Stiles back, with a new passion, so hard yet so caringly, like he was trying to take him in, have their bodies fuse and become one so he could be sure that he could keep Stiles away from danger at all times. Stiles' fingers were now in his hair, grabbing onto as much as they possibly could and pressing Derek's face into his own. He moaned as he felt Derek's hands move down until they cupped his ass. They squeezed and then they were holding him by his sides once more. Slowly, their thirst for each other was satisfied and the kiss lost its intensity, until they were both just holding each other and pressing their foreheads together, gasping.
"Believe me now?" Derek made a deep, grumbling noise from somewhere in his throat, like a contented cat purring in delight. "You know, you're the only person who doesn't want to be told that someone's in love with him," Stiles croaked.
They walked back inside the house holding hands. They'd walked through the front door when it hit Stiles.
I just told Derek I'm in love with him.
Where the hell did that come from? How did he even begin to think to think of something like that to say? He had never thought about Derek that way before, and he'd fallen in love with a wolf in one day.
I'm crazy. I'm not in love with him. Derek was right.
Wasn't he, though? He felt this strong emotion inside him, as if something had clicked; as if a tap had been left on and something warm was overflowing from within. Stiles felt safe, cared for, and important, emotions he hadn't had in a very long time. Some of the emotions that only Derek was able to make him have. Stiles stopped panicking. Suddenly, being in love went from a big, dark glob of worrying thoughts that ate away at him from the inside out to a bright, warm light that made everything look ten times better wherever its rays shone. A wide smile spread across his face.
"Stiles!" Derek called, loudly. The smile went away, and Stiles looked at Derek.
"Stiles, what the hell were you thinking about? I've been talking to you for about a minute now, have you heard anything?" Stiles stared him dead in the eyes, and looked for a quick fix.
"I was thinking that you're really, very, very sexy and I love you very much," Stiles said in an apologetic tone. Derek tried but couldn't help grinning. He closed the front door and walked to Stiles.
"You know, I love you too," Derek confessed, in a matter-of-fact tone. Stiles' eyebrows shot up.
"You do?"
"Yeah," Derek laughed. "How could you not have noticed? There's nobody as oblivious as you, I swear."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Stiles asked.
"Would you really have wanted me to have come up to you and say something like that before yesterday? Think about it," Derek said. He had a point.
"I would have liked to know," Stiles teased. "It would have given me a wider perspective of my romantic options."
"Between me and…" Derek trailed off sarcastically. Stiles pinched his nipple playfully as revenge, and Derek immediately grabbed his hand.
"Don't do that," he said sharply. "It causes… things."
"'Things' as in erections?" Stiles laughed and Derek blushed. A comfortable silence fell again. Derek had calmed down now, his mind had been cleared. Stiles noticed he was inadvertently good at helping Derek to get things straight in his head.
"So, the plan to deal with Janice is highly unnecessary, in my opinion," said Stiles, trying to take the amusing way into the conversation, and avoid conflict like before.
"Yeah, she's with Marco now," Derek said solemnly. Traces of a smile remained on his face.
"I say we find out what we can about them," Stiles suggested. "We need to know what we're dealing with. We only know that it's a seventeen-member pack, with or without Janice, and that's it, basically."
"Yeah, that's probably our best option right now," Derek agreed. "It's not like we can barge in there and hope to win. We'll get massacred."
"Okay, so research… My favorite," he sighed, and looked at Derek's eyes. "I don't suppose you have an internet connection here?" he asked, hopefully.
"Of course I do," he said, offended that his home was thought so lowly of. He walked off, and returned a minute later with a MacBook in his hand. Stiles gratefully took it and sat on the sofa, turning it on while placing it on his thighs. Derek sat next to him and stared at Stiles' face expectantly.
"What?" Stiles asked, when he no longer felt he could stand being stared at without reacting.
"Nothing, just waiting for it to power up," Derek said, and switched his gaze to the screen.
Soon enough, the process was complete and the MacBook was fully functioning. Stiles pulled up the internet browser, and typed in 'Beacon Hills' in Google Maps. The area was quickly brought up, and Stiles zoomed in until the entire Beacon County was clearly visible.
"Okay," he said, and traced a shape with his finger. "This is where we are, and this is Hale territory. So, Marco told us that his territory was a little north of ours, meaning that they should be located around here…" he said thoughtfully, and traced another shape, much smaller. "Now, they don't have much land, which means there's less room for error. Just taking any route that goes through their turf should be enough to bump into any one of them at some point.
"Also, the northern edge of their territory is exposed to a main road, meaning they'd have to be extra careful about revealing themselves at all times. If we, at any point, are hoping for an attack, using the element of surprise is our best option. If we go in from the south, and corner them against the road…" he continued, mainly to himself. He was completely engrossed in this, and Derek was a little impressed at the way his mind worked.
"But, anyway," Stiles said. "An attack like that can wait, that's not the plan right now. Maybe if I Google this area right here…" Stiles selected the name of the wooded area Marco's pack were living in and Googled it. Not much which was returned was interesting, except the fact that there seemed to be some old mines around.
"Look at this," Stiles said, talking to Derek for the first time since he'd began looking into all of this. "It says here that there are some abandoned mines in the mountainside over there. That's likely where they find shelter."
"Really? Abandoned mines?" Derek asked. "Even we have a house."
"You have to think that they're being forced to battle another pack for land. The conditions where they are right now must be awful if they're willing to take such a risk."
Derek made a face, not completely convinced. "That's all great, Stiles, but how does it help us?"
"To be honest, it doesn't really," Stiles said. "But it might help us discover something that might actually help us." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles seemed stuck, like he didn't know what to do with the information he'd found out. He just stared at the screen and waited for it to speak to him. Derek broke the silence.
"I really don't want you to get hurt in the midst of all this," he said.
"Yeah, me too," Stiles replied. Derek's worries about Stiles being in danger made him remember about the nightmare he'd had, about the woman chasing him. He hoped it wasn't Janice. If it were, it was just as much reason for Stiles to hate her. Not only did she put the Hales on Marco's map, but she dream-killed Stiles. Also, she'd almost real-life killed him and hurt Derek too.
"Janice is really irritating me right now," Stiles announced.
"Yeah, me too," Derek mimicked.
"Next time I see her, I'm gonna light her up," he said, and clicked his fingers.
"With your little sparkly trick?" Derek teased.
"No," Stiles said, in a dramatically offended tone. "I can make fire now." He proceeded to do the spell and was proud of himself for doing it very quickly. Soon enough, a small flame emerged from his hand.
"Nice work, now you can say 'yes' when people say 'Got a light?'" he teased some more. Stiles made a face and looked back to the computer.
"I feel like something is wrong here," he said.
"Wrong, how?" Derek asked, squinting.
"This can't be it," he said. "Their location is all the information we have on them. It can't be that this is all that it leads to, the fact that they live in an abandoned mine."
Derek looked confused, like he wanted to help. Suddenly he was the one feeling powerless.
"Why don't you try looking up the mines?" he suggested.
"I don't really see how that's gonna work, by why not?" Stiles mumbled and Googled the name of the mine. He skimmed through the first few results, until his eyes fell on the word 'Police'.
"Wait, what's that?" he said, and pulled up the search result. It was an article on an arrest the local police had made at the mines the year before, saying that they found a man in his forties and a few others in their mid-twenties lurking around, and they suspected them for drug abuse. As it turned out, there had been no evidence, and they were let go.
"It says they didn't have anything on any of them, except the one around forty years old. He had to stay the night," Stiles said.
"On the account of what?" Derek asked. Stiles didn't answer at first.
"Public urination."
"What?"
"Public urination."
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I'm serious, look, it's right here."
Derek skimmed the article himself, just to be sure. So, hopefully, it was Marco that had been arrested. Unfortunately, no names were mentioned in the webpage.
"If that was Marco that was arrested, then he has a record. They have a file on him in the Station with all of his information," Derek said, and looked to Stiles with his eyebrows raised, trying to get him to understand what was being implied.
Stiles just stared back, confused.
"Your father is the Sheriff. He has access to that file," Derek continued suggestively.
"How the hell am I going to get him to bring us the file?" Stiles asked.
"Maybe he's not the one that has to get the file. People know you in there. People trust your face; you just get into your dad's office for a little while, look through his computer, print out the file and get out of there."
Stiles frowned.
"I'm not sure," he said, unconvinced. "That's a little bit too much abuse of my dad's position in one day."
"What do you mean?"
"You used his name to excuse me from school today," Stiles explained.
"You know, you could have still gone. It's not my fault you can't keep away from this," Derek said, and pointed to himself. His face was completely straight, and Stiles couldn't help but smile at the unexpected joke.
"And even if I do do that, what are the chances that I'm gonna walk in when he's not there? He's the Sheriff; he's almost always at work."
Derek looked at him and sighed. "Then you have to be very, very quick." Stiles gulped and looked back at the screen. Derek got up and put on his usual leather jacket.
"Where are you going?" Stiles asked, confused.
"Police Station, come on."
"What, now?" Stiles asked while making wild hand gestures.
"Why, when do you think there's going to be a better time?"
"I don't know when he's at home, maybe?" Stiles said loudly.
"No, if he left the Station, he'd have turned off his computer. It would definitely need a password to log you back in," Derek said.
"And what if I walk in while he's there? What if people see me and tell him I was there? I'm meant to be at school," Stiles said. Derek thought about that for a second, and realized Stiles was right.
"Then we're going right after school," he said, and opened the front door.
"That's not for another two hours, where are you going now?"
"We should get you to train," Derek said. "That fire spell is going to come in handy too soon." Stiles saw the concern in Derek's eyes, and decided to comply.
Soon enough they were both outside the house once again, and Derek had made marks on the trees with his claws. The nearest one was a mere fifteen feet away, the one furthest was at least thrice the distance.
"Okay," he announced. "Think you can shoot a flame now?"
Stiles actually had no idea how to do that. He knew how to make it, but shooting it was a wholly different story. He thought maybe he should just throw it, and as he produced a flame, barely big enough to light a cigarette, he moved his hand behind his head, and flung it towards the nearest target.
The only thing he succeeded in was setting his sleeve on fire.
"How the hell am I supposed to figure this out on my own? Why don't we go over to Deaton's?"
"This isn't how the supernatural works, you can't just get a lecture about it and suddenly you're an expert. You have to understand it."
Stiles was thoroughly unconvinced.
"Try projecting the flame towards the tree, in your mind," Derek instructed. He took a few careful steps back and leaned against the porch railing, with his arms crossed. Stiles ignored the gesture.
Once again, he thought of the small source of heat and performed the necessary steps. He imagined that the target was Marco's face, and that the flame was flying towards it.
When the spell was completed, the fire flew forward a foot or two and was extinguished before it lifelessly fell to the ground.
"Well," Derek began hesitantly. "It's a start… Try again."
"Derek—"
"Just do it," he commanded. Stiles was getting agitated.
"Fine."
"Stiles, there's no need to get angry at me, I'm just trying to help."
"I know, I said I'm fine," Stiles said in an even more agitated tone. He put his hands together, and imagined a flame. This time it was different.
He felt his blood course through his veins. He felt hot all over, and the flame in his mind grew to the size of a golf ball. That little bit of anger was enough to fuel the magic inside him. He directed it towards the tree, and performed the spell. The fireball flew from his hands like a bullet. It whooshed through the air and hit the target with a blinding flash. Stiles grunted and felt the heated anger exit his body through the fire, and his vision suddenly cleared. Derek remained staring at Stiles like he didn't know him.
"Whoa," Stiles exclaimed.
"Are you okay?" Derek asked.
"Yeah, I-I'm fine," Stiles stammered, amazed at himself and at a loss for words. "It's like the magic took over me," he managed to say eventually.
"I noticed," Derek said. "I also noticed that the fire was much bigger now."
"It was?" Stiles said, still in a state of trance.
"Yeah, apparently your anger gives power to the fire," Derek said.
"Huh." A smile spread across Stiles' face, and it progressed to a little laugh of victory. "So I did it!"
"Well you still have a long way ahead of you, if you're hoping to use that in battle. A fireball twice that size should be something you're able to pull out in a second."
"Party pooper," Stiles replied. He conjured up a small fireball and flung it at Derek. He ducked and laughed. "Stiles!"
"What? Am I bothering you?" he continued joking and shot another one. He was missing on purpose, and it was actually giving him some target practice.
"Stiles, if you hit me I swear—" A fireball flew over Derek's head. In an instant, he pulled out his claws and lunged at Stiles, pinning his arms to the ground, and remained on top of him. Stiles only stopped laughing when Derek laid a kiss on his mouth.
