A/N: The Dark Angel title is in fact Love Among the Runes, but well…I have no Runes, so…

Love Among the Ruins

Derek's ears were still ringing as the dust settled, the air thick with the scent of stone and fear. Coughing, he blinked open his eyes. His vision was nothing but white at first, but then his wolf senses kicked in he could make out the familiar shapes of his pack.

Straightening, he tossed the trigger aside and dragged himself over two Stiles, who was still prone across his father's unconscious body.

"Stiles?" He said fearfully loudly over the ringing in his ears. The sound shielding against the sound of his boyfriend's heartbeat.

Slowly, Stiles pushed himself up off his father, coughing up the debris. "I'm fine!" He yelled, looking over at Derek, "You okay?" He twisted his body and reached for Derek hands searching the alpha's chest and arms.

Derek exhaled, smiling softly, and curling his own fingers around Stiles' wrists, gripping them gently. "I'm fine."

Stiles looked up, holding his gaze, "You sure?"

With a slow nod, his thumbs moving in gentle sweeps against the young man's forearms, Derek reassured, "Yes."

"We're alright too, thanks for asking." Announced Lydia between coughing fits. "Can we get out of here now?"

Derek let go of Stiles arms reluctantly, and looked over at the others, before turning his attention to the remaining tunnels. He strained to hear past the ringing, and could just make out the sound of hurried approaching feet. Closing his eyes, Derek scented the air. It was difficult with the dust and debris, but he eventually caught Isaac's scent and felt himself relax.

"Aiden, you stay here." His head jerking to the remaining tunnel, where the sound echoed. With the teenager's nod of agreement, Derek reached for the Sheriff, grunting as he lifted the man's prone body back over his shoulder. "Peter, take the lead."

They scurried along the tunnel, Derek, and Stiles at the rear. They didn't speak, but Stiles continuously glanced up at Derek, then his father. Derek could tell that he was worried, and frankly, so was Derek. - However, the fact that Derek could feel John heartbeat against his shoulder gave him a speck of hope that the man wasn't going to die. Though he doubted the Sheriff wasn't going to be particularly overjoyed at the new life he would wake up with.

They reached the house finally, and Derek exhaled as a sense of safety wrapped around him. They hurried up the basement steps and exited into a crowded kitchen. There were raised voices coming from all around him. Derek ignored them for the moment, and wormed his way through the mass of people, and up the stairs. Not stopping until he reached his room, where he gently laid the Sheriff out on top the covers.

Relieved of his load, Derek stepped back and rubbed at his temples. It had been so long since the house had been so full of voices and heartbeats, it was overwhelming. Hurrying forward, he closed the bedroom door, and the noise became muffled. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to allow Derek to finally take a breath.

He strolled over to the window, looking out over the vast expanse of preserve, and lowered himself down on to the window seat, dropping his head into his hands. It wasn't over, far from it, but for a few minutes he can breathe. Derek pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes until he saw lights and let his mind float away.

He'd done it. He'd broke the one covenant his family hate, you don't force the bite on someone. Sure, logically he knew there had been little choice. Without it, the sheriff would have died, and they couldn't allow that to happen. However, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth, and a hollowness in his stomach.

He needed something to take the edge of as his anxiety began to creep up his spine, its toxic fingers stretching throughout his body, inch by inch. Lifting his head, he glanced towards the nightstand, before shaking his head. He needed to keep it clear, he couldn't lose his faculties on the brink of an attack.

Dropping his head into his hands once more, his knee began to bounce and his heart race. The last few months had managed to reignite Derek anxiety, between Jennifer and Stiles kidnapping, it was frankly a miracle he was still able to function at all.

He curled his fingers into his hair and allowed his teeth and claws out in hopes of relieving the pressure. It worked a little, but he'd much rather drink and forget.

The door opened suddenly, and the noise crashed into him. Assaulting his sensitive hearing, and then suddenly there was silence. He looked up to see Stiles stood in the doorway, brows creased with concern, but it wasn't aimed at his comatose father. Stiles eyes were fixed on him, and then Erica's voice cut through the deathly silence.

"Stiles, is he okay?" She yelled, worry in her voice.

Stiles took a deep breath and turned his head to reply. "Nothing to worry about. I've got him." Stiles said with a low calm tone, then he closed the door. "Derek?"

Shooting to his feet, Derek shifted back, his whole body straining against the control. Heart racing.

"He's doing well. H-he might survive the change."

Stiles only glanced briefly at his father, likely to reassure himself that he was there and breathing, but then those warm brown eyes were fixed on Derek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He lied, dropping his gaze to his feet.

Stiles took a step forward, caution and uncertain, and that just added to the pressure on Derek's chest. They were past the suspicion, or at least they had been. "You don't look fine."

Derek scoffed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Then why ask?"

Stiles glowered at him, "because you're my boyfriend and I'm worried about you."

Derek stared at him for a long time, eyes searching his face while his ears sort the lie, but there wasn't one. Just fear and concern, and regret. Exhaling slowly, Derek's felt some of the weight lift. Strangely, it caused his knees to crumple, and he dropped back down onto the window seat.

Stiles hurried forward, taking the space beside him. His fingers curled over the curve of Derek's thigh. "Tell me the truth." He ordered, voice shaky.

Derek closed his eyes and dragged air into his lungs. It burnt and he coughed. Stiles was up again, hurrying into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a glass. "Drink."

Carefully, Derek sipped at the cool water. "I'm fine."

"Sure, you are. I know a panic attack when I see one Derek." Stiles scolded.

"It's nothing." Glancing to his left, he found Stiles eyes burning into him, patiently waiting. Sighing, Derek looked back into the glass, watching the daylight dance across the surface of the water.

"So much is happening, I just need a moment to breath."

Stiles' shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Right. Yeah, me too." He turned slightly, leaning back against the window frame, and watching the bed. "This isn't exactly how I expected our reunion to go."

"I don't know, the first part went fine." Derek remarked, shooting Stiles a soft smile.

Stiles huffed out a laugh, "Yeah." He knocked his foot against Derek and smiled briefly, before it faded, and they sat there in silence.

"It's strange." Derek said eventually, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. "I built this house because I wanted to fill it with family again, I wanted people around."

"Yeah."

Derek shook his head, "And now, I just wish they'd all leave."

"That's understandable. You're allowed to want your own space." Stiles said, before sitting up straight, a suddenly look of realisation on his face. "If you want me to leave, just…"

"No." Derek said, grabbing at Stiles arm before he was even on his feet. "Not you. Never you."

Stiles eyes softened and he relaxed, the tip of his peeking out to dampen his chapped lower lip. "Good, because I don't want to leave."

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Derek moved his hand from Stiles arm up to his neck, then leant forward. Stiles eyes fluttered closed for a breath second, before flying open. He pulled back just as Derek's lips touched his. Derek froze for a second before pulling away. "I – I'm so…"

Stiles shook his head and grabbed Derek's wrist, yanking him to his feet and dragging him off the seat and into the bathroom.

Derek stood frowning as Stiles closed and locked the door. "Stiles, what….?" He was silenced when Stiles turned and all but threw himself into Derek's arms, crushing their lips together. Derek didn't move, confused.

Stiles pulled back, looking into Derek's bemused face, and laughed, "I can't make out with you in there, my dad is right there, it's weird."

It took a second for his brain to catch up, during which time he carefully placed the glass on the counter, as far back as it would go, so as to not get break it. When he was done, he turned back to Stiles, licked his lips, and grabbed at his shirt, yanking him back into the kiss.

With his hands on Stiles hips, Derek pulled him up tight against his body and drank him in, continuing what they'd started at the station. Stiles moaned into the kiss, his fingers carding through Derek's hair, while Derek's fingers tightened their hold.

A few second passed before he turned them, backing Stiles into the counter, then with a squeeze of Stiles hips, Derek lifted him onto the surface, Stiles legs opening invitingly, before lifting to close around Derek's waist, pulling him closer.

"God, I missed you." Stiles moaned went Derek's lips abandoned his mouth for the curve od of his jaw.

Derek hummed his agreement while sucking on the sensitive flesh beneath Stiles' ear. Burying his face in the curve of Stiles neck, Derek inhaled deeply, and groaned, drawing back. He reached for the hoodie, shoving at it desperately.

"Woah dude." Stiles chuckled .

"Take it off." Derek ordered, his nose wrinkled and his eyes flashing red.

Stiles smirked, "Can't wait to get to all this goodness." Stiles chuckled , shrugging out of the shirt, and reaching for the hem of the t-shirt.

"No. You just smell wrong."

Stiles quirked a brow, his t-shirt caught halfway up his arms, "What?"

Derek grabbed the shirt, pulling it the rest of the way, "You smell like that place and...death."

When Stiles head re-emerged from the fabric, it was pale, and he looked away. Tossing the shirts into the laundry basket, he stared at Stiles, eyes searching his features. "Stiles?" He brushed his fingers up his boyfriends' arm, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing? " Derek stared, patiently waiting. Stiles exhaled and slumped back against the mirror, all thoughts of sex forgotten. His fingers tugged at a small hole in the jeans. "When we escaped, we had to hide out in this house." He swallowed, taking a sharp breath, "The place had been trashed. We found..." Stiles squeezed his eyes closed against the memory, "We took their stuff." His eyes turned to the basket.

Derek stepped closer and tugged at Stiles shoulder, pulling him into a hug, rubbing soothingly at his back. Stiles arms wrapped tightly around Derek, he buried his head into Derek shoulder. They just stood there in silence because there was nothing Derek could say. Death came with life, more so in the supernatural world, but it didn't make seeing innocent people die any easier. And Derek was sure the sight brought back bad memories for Stiles.

"We just left them there. We didn't even bury them." Stiles muttered into his skin.

"It's alright. Someone will. "

Stiles pulled back, shaking his head. "What if they don't. They were murdered and whoever did it is going to get away with it because the world ended and now it's every man for himself. You've seen those post-apocalyptic movies, we're going to end up hunting for water and find dead bodies in the streets. Masked lunatics attacking people in their homes just for the fun of it."

Derek listened to the frantic rhythm of Stiles heart, a companied by the acid scent of anxiety. In hopes of distracting him before the panic attack could hit, Derek kissed him. When he drew back, Stiles still had his eyes closed and his lips puckered. "Breath, Stiles."

Stiles blew out the air through his puckered lips, then made kissing noises. Rolling his eyes, Derek gave him what he wanted, but the desperate lust of a few minutes ago was gone. Instead, they stood, slowly exploring each other's mouths.

When they parted, breathless and relaxed, they stared at each other. Derek's fingers gently trailing up and down Stiles' arm while Stiles own hands rested on Derek's hips, unwilling to release him.

"You should take a shower."

"There's no power, which means no hot water."

Derek smirked, eyes flickering down to Stiles' lap, "I think perhaps a cold shower would do you some good."

Stiles rolled his eyes, hands slipping around to Derek's arms, pulling him closer, "I'm not the only one." He muttered, lips brushing up Derek's throat.

Craning his head, Derek moaned, "Stiles."

"Hmm."

"Four hundred and….ahhh, eigh-ty – o-ahh-ne."

Stiles leant back and stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open. "You know," He stared slowly, "The world kind of ended."

"Yeah?"

"Hm, chaos reigns."

"Hm."

"Law and Order are things of the past."

Derek waited, brows pinched, even though he knew where this was going.

"So, like, there's really no reason we can't…"

"I doubt your father will see it that way." Derek interrupted, left brow quirked in challenge. "Not to mention he's in the next room."

Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, Stiles stared at the door. "Right."

"And while the master bedroom as soundproofing, this bathroom does not."

"I'm going to take that cold shower." Stiles announced, gently pushing Derek aside and leaping off the counter.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Derek gritted his teeth against the overwhelming scent of desire. "Yes, good idea." Derek panted, staggering back towards the door. "Towels are in the cupboard and uh, help yourself to clothes."

Stiles smiled, "Thanks." He took a hurried step forward and gifted Derek with a peck before reaching for the cupboard door.

Derek watched him pull out one of the new white towels he'd brought before Stiles was taken, but hadn't used, and then grabbed door handle. Yanking, he found it wouldn't open. Rolling his eyes, and with Stiles laugh as a soundtrack, he twisted the lock and stepped out, closing it behind him.

He waited, listening for the sound of the latch and then water. He looked over to where the sheriff was still unconscious, his heart growing steadier by the minute. He allowed Derek to relax.

Squaring his shoulders, and bracing for the noise and overwhelming scent of strangers, he headed for the door.

_(*_*)_

Cold showers are not meant to be comforting or relax, which is why no one in their right mind had them, but what choice did he have? There was no electricity, which meant no boiler, which meant no hot water.

Stiles hurried through his shower, using Derek's body wash to scrub weeks of dirt from his skin, along with the scent of death. He didn't even consider taking care of his unsatisfied lust. His hard on having long since retreated.

Once he was clean, he scrubbed himself dry and headed out to ruffle through Derek's dresser. He was surprised to find he'd acquired more clothes, which brought a soft smile to Stiles' face.

Once he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, both predictably black, he tossed the towel in the laundry basket and checked of his dad.

The fact he was still breathing allowed Stiles to relax, and hope. There was still a thousand questions, top of the list being what had caused his dad and the others to get sick, but he pushed them to the back of his mind.

With no chair to settle into, Stiles headed back to the window seat, his back pressed to the left wall of the alcove so he can watch his father. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on the bent knees.

Stiles sat there silently for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being that of his father's breathing, becoming less laboured by the second.

"So," Stiles sighed , his head resting back against the wall, "you're going to be a werewolf." He said slowly, "I know you're going to be made, but it was that or death." He paused, inhaling sharply while his mind conjured a funeral.

Turning his head, he stared out at the preserve. It looked harmless in the daylight, you'd never guess that within the tree's an army waited. He glanced at the sky and sighed, his stomach knotting with anticipation. They'd attack at dark, he just felt it.

Scanning the treeline one more time, noting blind spots and areas that would give Manticore better coverage, Stiles got to his feet and headed for the bed. "I've got to go and get ready, okay. You're safe up here. I'm going to send Melissa up to check on you." He squeezed his father's wrist, "I love you dad." he declared with a heartfelt whisper, then turned and marched to the door.

The first thing Stiles saw when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, was Scott, talking animatedly with his mom, anger written across every inch of his face. He only stops whatever rant he's engaged in when he turns to lock eyes with Stiles. They flash amber as he marches past Melissa and stomps directly for Stiles.

"Is it true?" He demanded.

"You're going to need to be more specific, Scottie."

"You let Derek turn your dad."

The accusation in Scott's voice grates against Stiles already raw nerve, causing him to straighten defensively. "We did what we needed to do, to save his life."

Scott scoffed, features twisted with disgust and disbelief, "Funny, when I did what I had to do, to save my mom, you disowned me."

Stiles' stomach twisted, his own anger flaring to life. "Difference was Scott, I didn't forced Derek to bite my dad." It wasn't completely true. Or at least, it didn't feel true. But no matter the circumstances of what lead to his father's bite, it was still a whole lot different to what Scott had done. "I didn't physically hold Derek against his will and make him give the bite." Stiles seethed, "And my dad is not a crazed lunatic out to destroy Derek's pack."

Scott stared back at him, mouth pressed stubbornly into a thin line.

"Come on boys, " Melissa sighed sadly, "don't you think this fight has gone on long enough?" She said, attempting to play peacemaker.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Scott as he spoke, "No offence Melissa, but you have no idea what he did, you weren't there. He forced Derek to bite the man particularly responsible for the death of his family, this isn't an argument over comic books. He violated Derek and I can't forgive him for that."

There was a tense silent as Stiles stared down Scott, who if he felt any guilt for his actions, didn't show it.

"Scott?" Melissa said, her voice soft and disbelieving.

"It was part of the plan to stop Gerald. It was the only way." Scott argued stubbornly.

Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. "Right. Then only way, and no asking Derek or telling me, that was he essential to said plan. I better it didn't even cross your mind to talk to us, did it?"

"Deaton said it would look better. He said Gerald would believe it more if I forced Derek."

"Deaton! Right, yes. The guy who was working for the insane cult that's currently trying to kill us. Yes, that's the man you trust over me."

"I didn't know he was..."

"No," Stiles sighed, shoulders slumping, "but I thought you knew right from wrong Scott. I thought you knew that forcing someone to do something against their will was wrong." He let out a humourless laugh, "And in all the months since then, you haven't once apologised. You just keep acting like Derek and the rest of us are being unreasonable. You actively tried to turn Isaac against Derek. You're not the victim here Scott, and you don't get to judge mine nor Derek's actions. Not ever." with his heart racing, Stiles turned to Melissa who stood looking shell-shocked. "Where's Derek?"

Melissa didn't take her eyes from her son as he replied, "basement, with Chris and Allison."

Stiles eyes snapped back to Scott and he shook his head, them skimmed past Melissa. He headed for the stairs, not even sparing a glance at everyone gathered around the kitchen table.

He could hear the muffled voices the second he opened the door, and hurried down them. At the bottom, Christopher and Allison were sat tied to chairs, the pack spread out in a large circle around the room. Derek stood in front of the pair, arms folded and eyes burning as he stared at them.

"We've told you everything we know." Allison snapped. "Are you just going to keep up tied up down here?"

"It's not nice, is it? " Erica growled, teeth bared.

"We could always show you the same courtesy you showed us." Boyd added, eyes flickering amber.

Stiles couldn't see Allison's face, or hear her heartbeat, but he saw her whole body stiffen defensively.

"I didn't know..."

"Liar!" Erica hissed, throwing herself towards the girl who Stiles had once considered a friend.

However, before she could claw Allison's throat out, Derek grabbed her arm, holding her back and flashing red eyes at her.

"Enough. Boyd, Isaac, take Erica upstairs."

"We're not leaving you alone with them. " Boyd seethed.

"I'm not alone. Go."

Stiles' heart gave a flutter at the declaration and stepped further into the room as the others stalked by him. Instinctively, he reached out for Erica's hand, giving it a gentle squeezed and offering a soft reassuring smile. Then the werewolves were gone, and Stiles stepped up beside Derek.

"Allison." He greeted, loathing crystal clear in his voice. "I wish I could say it's good to see you again but well..."

Allison's face fell, her gaze falling to her lap. "I swear Stiles, I didn't know what he was planning." At Stiles and Derek's look of disbelief, she clarified, "To you. I didn't know he'd sent men to grab you."

Stiles stared at her for a few seconds, taking in the earnestness of her voice, but then Allison was an Argent, so he looked to Derek for confirmation. He gave a small nod and stepped back, giving them privacy, it seemed. Stiles turned back with a sigh. "But you knew about Erica and Boyd. - And Derek."

Allison sat up straighter in her seat, lifting her chin defiantly. Stiles exhaled a tired sigh and shook his head, turning away from them and walking over to Derek. "So? Why are they here?"

Derek looked past him, back to the pair, "Apparently, they came to join the fight."

Stiles turned his head, "Why?" He demanded. "Aren't you on their side?"

"As I've been trying to tell Derek, I've been working with Sanderman for years. " Chris grumbled, tired of the conversation.

"Is that so?" Stiles asked sceptically, turning to lean his ass on the edge of the work bench, arms folded, a hairsbreadth apart from Derek.

"I know you have no reason to trust us, but..." He looked at Derek, " you know I'm telling the truth."

Derek straightened, "Funny thing about Argents," he said in a low quiet voice. "You know how to lie." And with that, he headed for the stairs. " don't think of trying to escape, there's no way out."

Stiles watched him leave, a heavy weight on his heart. "You get why we don't trust you, right?"

"We? So, you're really one of them now." Allison seethed.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her and pushed away from the bench, "And you wonder why we don't trust you." He scoffed, " What exactly has Derek, or the pack ever done to you, huh? " he demanded, hovering over her. "They never hurt anyone, Derek tried to find and stop Jackson, what did he get in return? You hunting down his pack like rabid dogs?"

"He killed my mom."

"Allison." Chris warned. "We talked about this."

"He bite her. It's his fault you had to..."

"He bite her trying to save Scott. She was trying to kill him."

The shocked look on the pair's faces filled Stiles with a fresh wave of anger, at Victoria Argent and Scott. He shook his head, "don't believe me, ask Scott, if he has the balls to tell you the truth." With that, Stiles marched furiously up the stairs. Stepping into the kitchen, he found everyone gathered around the table, a map of the preserve spread across it.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since an update, I kind of lost track of the story over the Christmas holidays and have struggled to find my way back. Hopefully, I'm back on track now *fingers crossed* Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.