Designate This

The shifting of the bed, drew Derek from his restful sleep, the scent of panic heavy in the air. Opening his eyes in an instant, he found himself staring at Stiles back, the young man's flesh peppered with sweat. Reaching out, he pressed his palm to his spine. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, eyes flickering up to Stiles face when he turned to look down at him.

Stiles shook his head, "Just a bad dream."

Derek smiled reassuringly, curling his hand around Stiles upper arm and tugged his carefully down to the bed, shifting closer. Stiles' head settled against his shoulder and Derek wrapped his arm around him, pressing a kiss to his young lovers head when Stiles buried his nose into Derek's throat.

"Want to talk about it?" Derek asked into his hair, fingers trailing down his shoulder.

"I can't - remember." Stiles whispered.

Derek listened to Stiles frantic heartbeat, "Well you're safe. I've got you." He tightened his arms around Stiles. A suddenly wave of fear and desperation flooding through him. Terrified that his boyfriend was going to be taken from him.

He didn't know what he'd do if he lost Stiles, not now they'd finally found each other. How would he cope without him? His anchor. "I lo…"

"Derek!"

Shooting up, Derek groaned as he just about caught himself before tumbling off the couch. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the young man he'd just had in his arms, only for his heart to crumble when all he found was Peter staring down at him, bright morning sunshine pouring in from the curtains at his back. Inhaling sharply, he closed his eyes tight, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. The ball of his palms pressing into his eyes until it hurt.

Peter exhaled a long sigh and bent to lift a bottle, waving it under his nose. Reluctantly Derek lifted his head to meet his uncle's unimpressed glare, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing?" Peter remarked flatly, shaking his head and setting the bottle on the table. "You're playing a dangerous game nephew."

Derek's gaze flickered guiltily to the bottle and he swallowed thickly. "I… - What do you want?"

"I want a great many thing. One of which would be an alpha who isn't on a suicide mission."

Shoving to his feet, Derek snatched the bottle from the table top and marched past his uncle. He knew the man was right, which of course only added to his anger. "If you just came here to lecture me, you can leave."

"If you want to seek oblivion, there are safer ways." Peter stated.

"But not as quick."

Tossing the bottle in the trash, Derek continued forward to the sink. His legs felt like Jell-o and his head was pounding. He felt weak and tired, and knew if they were attacked now, he wouldn't have enough strength to win a fight. He could lose his pack. He knew he shouldn't be doing it. Knew it could kill him, but…

After two months with no signed of Stiles, or the mystery woman on the bike, he was losing hope. He'd been so desperate, he'd even reached out to Christopher Argent, via Scott, but hadn't heard anything from the man. Which of course made sense, in hindsight, the Argents had been working for the emissaries when Kate and Gerard had tried to kill his whole family, and there was nothing to say Chris wasn't still working for them.

Reaching for a glass, he filled it to the brim before gulping down the cool water, ignoring the shame clawing at his gut.

The room was silent as he drank, refilling his glass three more times before he felt half-way ready to face his uncle again. Setting the glass down, Derek braced himself on the sink and hung his head. Exhaling a slow breath, his eyes still closed, Derek repeated, "Why are you here, Peter?"

"Lydia found something she thinks you need to see."

Exhaling another tired sigh. "About?"

"The Nemeton. – And Stiles."

Derek's head snapped around, "What?"

Peter smirked, waving his hand to the basement door. "Shall we?"

Stepping away from the counter, Derek hurried for the door, yanking it violently open and practically jumping down the stairs, Peter on his heels, though at a more casual pace. Hurrying along the tunnels, Derek's body protested against the sudden excursion, the Wolf's Claw still clinging to his nerves.

Over the past two months, Lydia had turned what they'd come to call the Nemeton Library into her own personal space. She'd had Peter drag down a desk for her to work at, and had been attempting to make sense of both the ruins carved into the trees base, and the ledgers they'd found scattered around the room. Lydia had complained constantly, muttering that this was Stiles thing. "Well Stiles isn't here." Derek had snapped back a month and a half ago, before storming out of the room and never coming back.

Taking in the room for the first time in weeks, Derek was impressed to see how tidy it was. There was now two desks, either side of the room. One clearly in use, while the other sat empty. Most of the room was now home to bookshelves, each one stuffed with various volumes. His heart skipped as he caught sight of a map, secured to a wall, decorated with all Stiles notes. He hadn't even realised it had been moved out of his basement. A sudden wave of anger rushed though him. "What is that doing here?"

Lydia twisted her head to stare at him, brow raised, then followed his gaze. Her own features sobered for a moment, before she looked back at the Alpha. "I thought Stiles would want it in the Library, once you got him back." She stated firmly. Derek's words died on his tongue and he exhaled, staring at the map. "I also got him a desk." She waved across the room.

Swallowing thickly, Derek turned away from the wall. "Peter said you wanted me. What have you found?"

Lydia stepped over to the Nemeton. "Firstly, I've tracked down every name on this tree." Lifting her hand, she handed him a stack of papers, and Derek let out a grunt as he took them. "From what I've learned, two of the five families, left the area all together. Obviously, your family stayed. Robert Talbot's family left Beacon Hills but remained close by. Their descendants married into various families, three of which were the Lehays, the Reyes' and the Suez, Melissa's maternal family line."

"So that's why Jennifer went after them?"

Lydia nodded, "Isaac is the last remaining member of his line. Once she got rid of Melissa and Scott, that branch would have been cut too."

"But Erica has other family."

"I can only assume she would have gone after them next. She'd clearly been using the sacrifices to cover the murders, so we wouldn't notice the pattern. Only three of those killed via the sacrifices where descendants. Heather Quinn, who was a Talbot, Edward Hilyard and William Dwight, who were both members of the Maris line. Alan Deaton was also one of his descendants. - Jean Colbert, the Argent's ancestor, went to Canada, they stayed there until returning to Beacon Hills in the 40s, only to leave again… well, you know that." Lydia cleared her throat. "Now here's the interesting part. The Walkers and the Maris families both headed out of California."

"This is all you have?" Derek snapped, waving the papers before tossing them on the table. "You've been at this for almost two months. – And Peter said you had news on Stiles."

Lydia turned, glaring up at him, folding her arms over her chest. Firstly; "I've been doing this on my own for two months. Do you have any idea how much time this takes up? This isn't my thing." She snapped angrily. "I'm doing what I can. – Secondly; I've had this information for weeks, but you've been too busy moping around in self-pity, to listen." Derek's eyes flashed at her, but she seemed unaffected. "You're not the only one missing him! You're not the only one that wants him back!" she yelled angrily, "But we've got an ancient goddess imprisoned beneath our feet, just waiting for her chance to escape and destroy the world. Making sure those last remaining descendants don't get killed, has to be a priority. You're priority, Alpha."

Derek stiffened, his teeth grinding as he fought the urge to reach out and rip her throat clean open. His temper had been growing harder to control over the last few weeks. He'd already come to blows with Jackson, Isaac and Cora, over ridiculous things that once upon a time wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest. He'd brushed it off, putting it down to his lack of sleep. – But deep down, he knew it was something more. "Fine." He gritted out, "Continue."

"Well, thank you." Lydia sighed dramatically, walking around the tree. – Though whether that was because she sensed his anger and wanted to put something between them, or simply aimless wandering, Derek didn't know. "As I was saying, the final two families are the most interesting." She leant on the tree stump table, and pointed. "Jeremy Walker, had a relatively large family, who stretched out across the country, but only three lines have survived to this day. The Walkers, who have one living member, a woman named Meredith, who is currently a patient at Eichen House."

"The mental hospital just outside town?" Derek frowned.

Lydia nodded, smiling. "So at least we know where she is."

"The others?"

"Ah, yes." She met his gaze, a gleam in their aqua depths, "The second line is the Berrisfords."

Derek's eyes widen, "As in….?"

"It explains why Jennifer had the boys. Much like with Cora, she was planning on sacrificing them once they'd done all her dirty work." Lydia informed him, marching over to her desk where she snatched up a print out and handed it over to him. Twins kidnapped from local playground.

Derek inhaled a deep breath, an acid-like ball of guilt settling in his stomach. "They said they're pack was murdered, that's how they ended up with Jennifer. That she was saving them from…"

"I think that might be partially true." Lydia said. "They were stolen when they were six. I think, going from what Alicia said, I think they were kidnapped by a wolf pack and then passed, or sold, on."

"Do they know?" Derek asked slowly.

"You mean already? I doubt it. They would have said something before now. – But I figure as Alpha, you should be the one to tell them."

Derek flinched at the thought, of innocent humans being taken and traded between packs. "I can't believe… Why didn't anyone do something?" He twisted his head at the sound of Peter entering the room.

The older man perched his ass on the edge of Stiles desk and crossed his legs at the ankle, folding his arms. "They were likely Emissary packs, and stole the twins for the same reason Jennifer did."

"Then why would she kidnap them and kill the pack." Derek frowned.

Peter shrugged. "Power. - Whomever frees the goddess, gets the riches, right? That's what she said."

There was a moment of silence, Derek staring down at the news print out, "Where they wolves before…?"

"I can't really tell, it's not as if there's a werewolf database."

"Perhaps that's something Stiles can look into when he gets back." Peter scoffed from the doorway, making the pair turn. "What? You both know he'll jump at the chance."

Swallowing thickly, Derek ignored his uncle, and the dark voice in his head that whispered Stiles was never coming back. That he'd, they'd lost him forever. – He turned sharply back to Lydia. "What else? Peter said you had something on Stiles."

Lydia's eyes shot over Derek's shoulder, narrowing angrily. Peter shrugged, "You wanted to speak to him about this." He waved at the tree, "Besides, it's kind of about Stiles."

Inhaling slowly through her nose, she turned back to Derek. "It's not about Stiles, it's about the Sheriff."

Derek's spine stiffened, suddenly worried, "What about him?"

"That third Walker line." She said, looking to the table top, "They moved to Colorado and… - The Sheriff's grandmother was a Walker."

"What?"

"He's part of this." She waved at the table. "It's probably what drew him back to Beacon Hills. - It's almost as if it's been drawing the bloodlines back." Lydia added thoughtfully.

"And I'll assume, like with the twins, you thought this was news better coming from me?" Derek asked, tone flat, as worry curled around his insides. If John Stilinski was a descendant, that meant he was a target.

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly.

"Anything else?"

"Just one more thing. Antonio Martis."

"What about him?"

"His family moved to Florida, and seemed to have remained there. Thing is," she looked up, meeting Derek's tired gaze, "his family line is gone."

"What?" Derek frowned, confused.

"I checked and double checked. They're gone. Not a single remaining branch."

Turning, Derek dropped his gaze to the table, frowning. "That's impossible." He muttered, "Martis was still guarding Stheno."

"I know."

_(*v*)_

The conversation with the twins went as well as Derek had expected. Filled with disbelief, anger and sadness. Ethan and Aiden had been taken so young that they had indeed no real memory of their lives before the pack.

"Lydia can only find so much." Derek said as the brothers sat silently. Ethan staring down at the printed news report, while Aiden stared blankly out the kitchen window. "If you want to find your family, we'll need the Sheriff's help."

"And then what?" Aiden snapped, "Are they wolves too? IF not what are we meant to tell them about this?" His eyes flared blue and he flicked his hand to reveal his claws.

Derek inhaled slowly through his nose, his tongue slipping out between his lips. He wanted to tell them their parents would be so glad to have them home, that they wouldn't care. Only he knew that wasn't guaranteed. He remembered how Melissa had reacted to Scott when she'd first discovered his change. How the Argents reacted when one of their own got bitten.

"If they're descended from one of the five, then… - Maybe they'll understand." Ethan said hopefully, looking almost pleadingly at his brother.

"Assuming they even know." Aiden scoffed, "If they don't know, they'll freak out. Then what? They'll either try to kill us, or kick us out. We'll be no better off than when we were part of the pack."

Derek looked between the brothers as they stared, a silent argument going on between them.

There was always a chance they could be dead, if the Emissaries were trying to wipe the line out, but he didn't bring that up. It had probably already occurred to them. "There's no harm in asking the Sheriff to look into it." Derek said quietly.

Aiden shot Derek an unimpressed look and shoved back his chair. "Do whatever the hell you like. I'm not interested." He snapped, storming out the backdoor and disappearing into the woods.

"He just…" Ethan sighed.

"Scared." Derek finished for him.

Ethan nodded and slowly got to his feet. Before he moved to follow his brother, he stared down at Derek. "If the Sheriff does find anything, we'll decide then."

"Okay." Derek grunted, nodding.

_(*v*)_

"Wait, let me get this straight." The Sheriff sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Not only am I descended from one of these guardian things, which has put me on some kind of hit list, but I'm also distantly related to the werewolf twins who were helping kill innocent people."

Derek took a slow deep breath, "They were being manipulated by…"

John held up his hand, "Don't." he sighed warily. "The only reason I haven't pulled them in, is because there's no way I can possibly make a case against them. – At least the girl is locked up."

Derek gritted his teeth and nodded. As much as he hated how the whole situation had effected Boyd, he couldn't deny that he shared the Sheriff's relief that Alicia wasn't around. Sure he wished his beta could have had the same happy reunion as he'd had with Cora, but the fact was, Alicia Boyd had gone through too much, and been too broken to be allowed to simply wander free. There had been only two options; death, or incarceration.

Despite his own belief that Alicia, and the world, would be better if she were dead, Jeremy knew somewhere safe, which was tailored to her needs. Boyd had travelled to Boston with Jeremy and Nick, where he'd stayed until she was settled. He'd also had meetings with Logan while he was there, which Derek was eternally grateful for.

"I understand your frustration, Sheriff." He reassured.

"Do you?" John challenged. "I swore to protect this town, and I've been doing a terrible job of it over the last year and a half. – I can't even protect my own son." He added, defeated.

Derek opened his mouth to argue, only to snap it shut once more, because they both knew, despite their best efforts, it was beginning to look as if they'd never find Stiles. Derek had spent over a month hunting down every lead, only to find nothing. They weren't just looking for a random kidnapper, they were going up against a top secret government project. The kind of people who knew just how to make other people disappear without a trace. That was what was killing them both.

Exhaling a frustrated, tired sigh, the Sheriff leant forward on his desk, burying his head in his hands. Derek watched him with a painful stab of guilt. He'd let the man down by not protecting Stiles, and he was letting Stiles down by not looking after his father.

He looked a decade older in just twenty-four hours. The wrinkles around his eyes seemed deeper, with ever darkening circles beneath them. His shirt was creased and he was gaining a grey speckled beard that could almost rival Derek's own. Frankly, the man would probably be wasting away if not for Melissa insisting on feeding him every twelve hours.

As Derek sat there facing the man, he became away of the scent of tears and his throat tightened painfully. Dropping his gaze to his lap, he chewed at the inside of his lip, his leg bouncing anxiously.

With a soft groan, John lifted his head. "I'll look into the boy's case and see if I can track down the parents."

"They don't want them to be informed." Derek hastily said, looking up to meet the older man's gaze. "They, and we, just need to know if they're alive."

John nodded, "I'll look into it personally."

"Thank you." Derek exhaled.

They fell silent for a few tense minutes, before Derek slowly pushed himself out of his chair.

"How are you doing?" John asked as Derek made his way to the door, causing him to pause and look around, surprised.

"Sir?"

"You look almost as bad as I do, son. Are you…alright?"

Derek lowered his gaze and exhaled, lifting his fingers to scratch uncomfortably at his beard. "I – I'm fine." He lied.

John nodded, understandingly. "Just don't do anything stupid, son. – And don't think you can numb the pain, it only makes matters worse."

With a frown, Derek slowly inclined his head. "Yes, Sir." With that he reached for the handle, pulling the door open slowly.

"Can you ask Parrish to come in on your way out, please? – And I'll call you when I get information."

"Of course, Sheriff. Bye." He said over his shoulder as he stepped out of the office, carefully closing the door behind him.

Derek marched between the rows of desks until he found the right name plate. He paused beside the one nearest the door and knocked his knuckles on the polished wood, "The Sheriff wants to see you." Parrish frowned up at him, unsteadily getting to his feet. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Parrish grunted, grabbing a file and skirting past Derek.

Usually Derek wouldn't have paid the slightest bit of attention to the man and simply left, but something familiar caught his notice. A scent. Sharp and unnatural. Freezing, he snapped around to watch the man vanish into the Sheriff's office, his heart beginning to hammer with renewed energy.

_(*v*)_

"What do you know about the Sheriff's deputy? Parrish." Derek demanded.

Scott frowned, his shoulder pressed against the frame of his front door. "What do you mean?"

"How long has he worked for the Sheriff?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "I think he's new. Joined after Matt killed…" He trailed off as the memory of the murder of half the Sheriff's department. Swallowing hard he continued, "Why?"

"Does he have family in Beacon Hills?" Derek demanded, "Where is he from?"

"How should I know?"

Derek growled in frustration, "How do you not know?" he snapped.

"Because, in case you forgot, Stiles barely spoke to me the last year, which means he didn't fill me in on what was happening at the Sheriff's station."

Exhaling, Derek lowered his head. Things weren't any better between them. The only reason Scott was even on speaking terms with Derek at all, was because of Melissa. However, just because Scott had accepted that Deaton had manipulated him from the start, and that Derek wasn't actually the villain of the piece, the deep rooted mistrust had done too much damage to be brushed aside so easily.

"Fine." Derek sighed, turning to leave.

"Hey, why are you suddenly so interest in one of the Sheriff's deputies? You looking for your next conquest?" He spat at the retreating Alpha.

Derek turned his head sharply, eyes flaring a furious red, which instantly made Scott take a small step back. He didn't give the teenager a reply, instead marching away from the McCall house.

_(*v*)_

The self-deprecating part of Derek that housed his ever burning flame of guilt and shame scolded him for not picking up on it sooner. Of course, logically he knew there was no reason for him to. It wasn't as if he spent his time around the Sheriff's office. And he'd only noticed Stiles unnatural chemical signature during his seizures.

It had been a fluke he'd picked it up at all, especially considering what he'd taken the previous evening, but clearly the young deputy wasn't drinking enough milk, which was why he was currently parked up outside the convenience store, waiting for the young man to re-emerge.

He'd followed him from the station after his shift had ended, and would continue to follow him home, - or wherever else he went, in the hopes of getting some answers. Because after two months, Derek felt he might have finally been given a break.

He'd spent most of the day hunting down everything he could on Jordan Parrish, which was more difficult that Stiles made it look. Of course, Stiles would not only have access to his father's files, but also inside knowledge. He wouldn't draw attention if he wandered into the Sheriff's office and started snooping around. – As it was, all Derek had been able to find was what Scott had already told him. Jordan Parrish had arrived ten months ago to take up an open position in the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. Before that, it was as if he hadn't existed. – Or perhaps that he'd been working for people who didn't want him to exist.

Derek sat, his fingers tapping at the steering wheel as he watched through the convenience store window. He tracked Parrish as he made his way towards the counter. Once he'd paid for his items, he made his way to the door, then to his patrol car parked just outside.

Shifting in his seat, Derek prepared to hit the gas the second Parrish drove off, when a shiver rushed through him, causing the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck to stand on end, and his nose wrinkled as a sharp tangy scent like battery acid filled his nostrils, settling across his tongue. Derek cleared his throat, and lifted his gaze to the sky. Everything looked normal, until his enhanced senses flared to life and he saw a strange greenish ripple across the night's sky, reminding him of the northern lights.

Suddenly his engine died. Derek frowned, leaning forward to try the ignition only to realise there was no light coming from the store across the street, or the lamps around him. His gaze instantly went to the patrol car, to see Parrish climbing back out of his vehicle, looking around with an equal look of confusion on his face. Then he was reaching into the car for his radio.

"Dispatch? Dispatch, this is Parrish?"

When there was no reply, the man turned to look directly at Derek.