A/N: Okay, so my original plans to get to this BEFORE the show returned didn't pan out, but I want to get things rolling now, as I have the whole next installment planned. So here is the first part of the next half of this story: Once More With Feeling. Expect pack dynamics and feels completely independent of the current season, as I'm keeping Jackson, and you'll soon be seeing Peter. Oh I love what I'm doing with Peter. Among many other larger plans. Enjoy!

Also, if any of you might be interested in reading an original story of mine, though based off of my Supernatural fanfic Incubus, The Incubus Saga: Book 1 will be out July 1st, on Amazon and at BigWorldNetwork DOT com. It will be available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook. And you better believe there's slash. :-)

Once More With Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series

Chapter 1: Surprise Training

Stiles generally didn't sleep well. Or sleep—at all. Unless he was forcibly knocked unconscious, which was cheating.

The morning after Derek Hale turned from a 16-year-old to his usual adult self, however, after a night of agony and confessions and some really awesome sexiness, Stiles awoke feeling like he had had the best sleep of his life. For once the future didn't seem so bleak, even in Beacon Hills, which may as well have been an actual Hellmouth.

He and Derek were…well, for lack of a better term, dating. Stiles' worst fears of his new friend, Young Derek, had not, in the end, been realized when Sourwolf Derek returned. In fact, Derek wasn't quite so sour anymore. Not completely. He was gentle, and needy, and just wanted to be loved—and Stiles didn't care how Lifetime movie of the week that sounded, because he wanted Derek to be loved too.

Stiles giggled—he was allowed to giggle—as he spread out on his otherwise empty bed, reveling in the remaining scent of Derek all over his sheets. Stiles remembered he had gone down for dinner with his dad at some point, just to make sure his dad didn't worry about his possible concussion. Which he thankfully didn't have, since he felt fine after a good night's sleep, though he knew he still had to take it easy.

After dinner, he had excused himself to go to bed early, and found Derek kicked back on the bed reading Marvel Zombies—despite having admitted he owned copies himself. And Derek had smiled at him—smiled. They'd spent a few hours hidden up in Stiles room together after that, talking. Just talking. Sometimes about serious things, but usually about ridiculous comic or video game related things, that eventually led to Stiles revealing he tried writing a comic once, but didn't have the art skills for it. Derek said he wanted to read it, and Stiles gave in—maybe halfway—and said Derek would have to earn it.

Eventually the alpha snuck out, since Stiles had school the next morning, but even though Stiles might have liked another round of sexy fun, he didn't really mind. It was weird, and he knew it wouldn't last very long, but for now everything felt right, and good, and like it would all be okay.

He tried not to think those thoughts too loudly at risk of jinxing the whole thing.

He practically skipped his way into school, finding the rest of the pack—sans Derek of course—gathered at their lockers. All of them—well, all of the wolves—grinned at him knowingly. They could probably smell Derek on him, and had to know that things had worked out after the semi-mess things had turned into in the woods.

Stiles merely held his head high and continued on to where Scott was at his locker by himself. He leaned against the lockers nearby while Scott dug around for whichever books he needed that morning—which Scott probably wasn't even sure about—and waited for his best friend to look at him. He knew he was grinning like an idiot.

Scott smirked crookedly and shook his head. "Dude, I get it. I do have an idea how it feels to be that into someone, you know. And…have sex for the first time," he said in a slightly exaggerated, conspiratorial whisper.

"Technically, it was the second time," Stiles beamed.

Scott chuckled. "I'm aware. Glad you and Derek worked things out. Really. Although…how are you going to handle your dad?"

Stiles turned to lean back against the lockers and tilted his head back. "Avoidance," he nodded to himself, "complete and utter avoidance for as long as I can manage. I can tell him when I'm eighteen."

"Like…a year and a half from now?"

"It's doable. Derek's been in my room how many times since we met him?"

"Good point." Scott slammed his locker shut, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "It's a little weird, you and Derek, but…kinda not weird too. I don't know, it's like it just…smells right. Ew," he immediately followed up.

Stiles nodded. "Ew."

"But, you know, even though this all started because Peter was being—"

"A sociopath."

Scott continued on without missing step. "We're all one pack now, you know. And it's really…nice. We needed a Pack Mom," he added with that crooked grin on his crooked jaw again.

Normally, Stiles would have smacked him on principle—even if it wouldn't faze his werewolf buddy in the slightest—but he could admit that although he never used to imagine things turning out like this, he was glad they had. Werewolf parts and all.

He had hated Erica and Isaac when they first turned and were acting like homicidal assholes, after all, but then they had settled in, back to their real selves mingled sanely with their new selves, and things changed. Boyd had never really changed, from what Stiles knew of him, but he'd always liked Boyd. And Jackson…wow, Stiles had a tough time with this one, but…Jackson wasn't so bad. He'd only ever had Danny as a friend who really knew and accepted all he was, and even Danny hadn't known everything until recently.

They were a pack all together, a family. Stiles loved his dad more than anything, but having a whole extended family again was…nice, just as Scott had said. Really nice. Awesome, even.

"Oh, hey," Scott said as they began their trek to class. "I got a message from Deaton this morning asking me to put in some hours whenever I can manage. I guess he was just on vacation."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, not entirely surprised, "I saw Counselor Morrell on my way in, so no missing people, turns out. Guess we were blaming the witch for nothing." Stiles could sure think of some things to thank her for, though.

Stiles was admittedly anxious to get through the school day. There were times when he honestly enjoyed school—learning, forming opinions, driving teachers crazy—but so much had happened recently that he really just wanted a vacation. A chance to take things in, relax, and…maybe spend some quality time with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Stiles was totally going to call Derek that in public the next time he saw him—and by public, he meant in front of the rest of the pack.

Finally, after what seemed like an agonizing day, Stiles was in his last class, watching the clock tick down to lacrosse practice. He had a lot of energy to burn, and there weren't any imminent threats to the town, so he was looking forward to some time on the field. Then, about five minutes to the bell, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He noticed that Scott's, Isaac's, and Danny's—who all happened to be in that class with him—also reached to check vibrating phones.

Stiles checked the text message to see that it was from Derek: Training. Den. After lacrosse.

It was such a normal Derek kind of message, short and to the point, and yet Stiles was instantly excited. He was being included in a text about training. He was being included, which meant Derek wanted him there. Of course, this scared him a little too, because he kind of wanted to know why Derek wanted him there, except maybe to be a cheerleader again, like he had been during Young Derek's training session. But then why also invite Danny?

Whatever the answer might be, Stiles wanted to see how Adult Derek was going to try being…better. Not that he wanted Derek to change, but he'd already started to get to know this opened up Derek, mixed with traces of his younger self, and he liked everything about it. Training was merely the next step.

Okay, so maybe Stiles was a little disappointed when lacrosse practice started and, although Allison and Lydia—and amazingly Erica—were in the stands together, Derek was nowhere to be seen. But after only about ten minutes, the next time Stiles glanced over, he caught sight of Derek hidden beside the bleachers, like he wasn't quite sure he should be there. The sight of him, all unsure and shadowed, dressed normally in all black and his leather jacket, made Stiles weak in the knees—and made him miss a shot.

"Billinski!" Coach Finstock called. "Can we have one practice where you aren't preoccupied with the stands?!"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles called back. "It's a very pleasant distraction, is all," he added under his breath, glancing at Derek again if only to catch the quick grin that flashed there at his words. Wolf hearing had its perks.

A while later, taking a water break, Danny sidled up next to Stiles, wearing a knowing smile. "Told you so," he said, elbowing Stiles playfully. "Miguel is definitely into you."

Stiles looked again to where Derek had been covertly watching practice, but he wasn't there anymore. He was up in the stands with the girls, plain as day, not even trying to hide. He didn't even look awkward chatting with Allison and Lydia. "Wow…" he said.

"Uh, hey," Danny interjected again, sounding serious now. "What's this 'Den' he's talking about anyway? And how did he get my number?"

Oh yeah, Danny hadn't ever actually been initiated as an official member of the pack.

"You'll find out," Jackson said with his usual superior tone, shouldering his way in for more water, and not caring that he knocked Stiles sideways in the process. His smile held this strange brotherly affection these days that he probably figured entitled him to still mercilessly pick on Stiles.

"It's our Batcave," Stiles explained. "Not quite as nice, but it'll get there. Guess Derek wants a pack meeting, or something, before training with the wolves."

"Cool," Danny said, and was off, back onto the field.

He really was far too awesome for his own good.

Stiles scored two goals before practice was over, and while he did still occasionally second guess himself and mess up, for the most part he was pretty damn coordinated. Coach Finstock even patted him on the shoulder with one of his patented mixed metaphors that made no sense, but that Stiles was certain was meant to mean, "Good game."

After practice, Stiles and the others were a whirlwind in the showers and locker room, eager to find out what Derek actually had planned, since no one seemed to have any inside info. And no, Stiles didn't either, despite everyone assuming he would.

The boys headed toward the parking lot together—Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Boyd, and Danny—to find the girls and Derek waiting for them. Lydia and Allison got into Lydia's car as they drew near, while Erica hurried over and latched onto Stiles' arm as an indication she planned to ride with him. Derek got into his Camaro.

Stiles was a little disappointed, but he figured they needed the extra cars to transport everyone. He stopped with the others at Derek's window and had to ask, "So…what's the plan? Hankering for another giant, coed sleepover?" He grinned, not that he would be opposed to the idea.

Derek glanced at the assembled group. Lydia and Allison were parked close enough to hear as he said, "You all know the truth. You're pack. You should know how to defend yourselves too. And that includes you," he said to Stiles.

A sudden weight settled in Stiles' stomach as it dawned on him that Derek might not actually want him at training as a cheerleader. "Wait. What? But I have a concussion."

"No you don't. You were just knocked around at practice for an hour and you're fine."

"But…"

"Oh, and bring your lacrosse pads."

"Derek…"

Derek smiled somewhere between his usual smirk and a sweet smile. As Scott got in with the girls, and Boyd and Isaac got into the Camaro, Stiles realized he'd be totting Erica, Jackson, and Danny, which…was not a group he normally would have ever thought he'd be alone with.

He let that thought resonate in his head so he wouldn't think too hard on what Derek meant to do to him at this training session—and how many new bruises he'd have tomorrow—and tried to enjoy the way Derek touched his wrist briefly, affectionately before driving away.

Jackass.

TBC...