Derek's focus was on Stiles. Always. But he was aware of his surroundings, of the people around him. At first, he hadn't really paid attention to that, he hadn't cared about anything but Stiles, he'd only made sure that there wasn't a threat nearby.

However, lately he did care about his surroundings. He liked food, especially the things Edith made, and he liked Edith and Theo. When Edith had asked about stacking the wood, he hadn't been sure what Stiles expected from him but when he had agreed to help, Edith had smelled so happy. He had liked that.

When that other werewolf had been at his door, Derek hadn't thought of him as a threat. He didn't seem dangerous. He had been smiling and Derek thought he might had been amused but then he'd asked for Derek's name and next thing he knew the other werewolf was fighting him with everything he had.

"You're not Derek!" Those words still echoed in his head.

Stiles hadn't let him kill the other werewolf and he had told Stiles the same.

"That's not Derek."

There had been an in-between so Derek didn't know what had happened later and for the first time he wondered what happened when he wasn't there.

When he had been there again, it was in another room but Stiles was there so that didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact that the other werewolf had left his scent all over Stiles. Derek needed it gone, he needed to cover it up with his own scent and this time Stiles allowed it. He allowed more than just a fleeting kiss.

Stiles could change his mind and not allow it any longer so Derek tried his best to make Stiles feel good. Maybe that way he was allowed to do this for a little while longer. Maybe even again soon.

After, when they were lying together in bed, warm and content, Derek with his head on Stiles' shoulder, Derek could tell that Stiles was drifting off to sleep.

Sleep was still a strange thing to Derek, he still didn't like it, but tonight his head was full with thoughts anyway.

You're not Derek, echoed through his mind.

Stiles had told him that he was Derek so he was Derek. That was a truth so deeply ingrained in him, he felt it to his very core. He was Derek Hale.

But he had noticed things.

He was not like other people.

Edith and Theo had spoken about their children who had been babies at one point but were all grown up now. They talked about months and years. Derek didn't know how they kept track of time with in-betweens. Did they have in-betweens? Derek couldn't tell how long he had been there but it hadn't been years. At least he thought that it hadn't been years.

Stiles could keep track of time, was everybody like him? But Derek hadn't seen anybody doing magic and nobody smelled like they could work magic either.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Once he'd started thinking about it, Derek more and more realized that he was different than everybody he had ever met. As if he wasn't as real as them.

His first memories were kind of fuzzy, there as in he knew what had happened and if Stiles asked he would be able to tell him exactly what the two werewolves had been wearing that had been attacking him the first time Stiles had summoned him. But at the same time, the memory felt distant, as if Derek himself hadn't been there. Not really.

Thinking about it, it became more and more obvious. Stiles summoned him. Stiles had even used that word. Normal people, real people didn't get summoned.

Derek trusted Stiles. His whole existence was revolving around him. So it was natural for him to turn to Stiles with this.

Stiles was more sleeping than awake but he had ordered him to tell him if he needed anything. And at the moment Derek really needed an answer.

"Stiles?" Derek asked and when he was sure that the other man was listening, he asked: "I'm not real, am I?"