Outside is dark and stormy as the sounds of rain and thunder fill up the silence of Stiles's room.
Noticing the broken glass on the floor, Stiles suddenly sits up, remembering the night before and the missing werewolf from his bed. The house is silent as he stands, dragging himself over to his bathroom to take a shower.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he's thrilled to see the bloody smears of his and Derek's blood having dried over his pale, mole dotted skin during their shared midnight snack. But sadly none of Derek's amazing hickeys are included in the visible evidence of last night's escapades. Cursing at his supernatural healing abilities, he quickly discards his pants and saturated boxers in disgust.
Stepping into the shower, standing in the middle of the spray, he lets the hot water run over his face. Stiles wipes away his hair from his eyes watching the steam cloud up the glass doors. Noticing how his eyesight is thankfully under control, feeling as normal as ever, he wonders how he's even alive. He racks his brain, thinking of Derek's coded message last night before he had interrupted.
"You will return to me." He shivers, affected the same at Derek's encrypted words. It's only mid shampoo before he realizes what he means...
Stiles hurryingly finishes up his shower, drying himself quickly and running over to his closet. Grabbing a silver, sun protector rune ring, black t-shirt, boxers, and maroon jeans he heads out of his room.
Immediately walking down the hallway to Lydia's but before he's able to reach for the doorknob he hears a whimper from behind the nearly soundproofed doors of her room. Stopping himself in his tracks he strains his inhuman hearing to listen in. As he waits outside Lydia's doors, another more, longer sound reaches his ears which has him swiftly walking away, traumatized by how close he was to walking in on Lydia and Peter.
"Ugh so gross!" He shutters in disgust as he makes his way down the staircase, glad that he was wrong and Lydia was in fact ok and not starved to death.
Walking through the center room and to the formal living room, his hands stall as he remembers that literally, anyone can be behind those doors.
Gulping loudly he holds his breath, swinging open the doors to the formal living room. Thankfully, no one's there. He exhales in relief but is quickly moving through all the rooms looking for any signs of life.
Nothing.
He walks back to the kitchen, seeing if someone had left a note and sure enough, there was one in the middle of the island in Allison's handwriting.
Despite the highly advanced technological developments made throughout the millennia, supernatural beings such as himself were left out of the equation. Their inhuman abilities too complex for humans to adapt their technological advancements as supernaturally friendly.
Though time would prove over and over again that being tech-challenged was actually a lifesaver more than not. The one of a kind writing of Allison's undoubtedly telling Stiles that she was safe and you know, not possessed by some unknown being forging her handwriting.
"Danny and Jackson are staying in the guest quarters. Isaac and I went hunting. Peter is here. Derek left."
He scrunches up the note and throws it away in anger as he remembers Derek's absence from this morning after he nodded off again.
Alone, he stands in the middle of the empty kitchen feeling an odd sense of disgust with himself. Walking over to the glass French doors, he looks out of his terrace and into the densely wooded backyard of his estate as the rain pours down against the ground, matching his mood perfectly.
Derek's stupid beautiful face flashing in his mind, the fucker, Stiles Stilinski doesn't do one night stands ok? He's a cuddle in the mornings, make me breakfast; play video games with me while I blow you type of guy!
He had guys and girls offering their palaces and summer mansions up for him to stay and yet here he is, with no bed in breakfast or morning boning! Stiles smirks, realizing how hot and bothered he is, god he hasn't felt this way in so long, he's missed it. Cracking his neck and knuckles, he laughs to himself as his mind races with all the fun ways he's going to get Derek back for this.
He steps outside with his trusted titanium baseball bat in hand, the rain drenching him in the process but not caring in the least as he closes the door from behind him, hoisting Betty upon his shoulder, he walks barefoot into the woods.
Walking through the beginning of the preserve, he spots a trail off to his left. It's suspiciously close to his house so he decides to take a detour and check it out, curiosity getting the best of him. But he should've known. Curiosity always kills the cat.
His breath catches as he spots it lying there in the middle of the trail. The stump completely ripped out of the ground, the tree snapped in half like a twig. He starts panting, as the world slows down, heart pounding in his ears; he just knows that this is it.
This was the fucking tree.
Setting Betty down a safe distance away before he picks up the stump, ripping the rest of its roots out of the ground, and throws it with all his strength away from the trail. Slumping down to his knees and out of breath as Scott's unaged face alive and healthy as ever flashes in his mind.
He grabs at his hair with both hands, remembering all those times he had reached his breaking point, at the lowest and darkest points of his life, dragging himself back to this fucking awful town and wanting so badly to crawl back into his father's arms or just wanting to see a familiar face. Remembering how he would visit Scott's grave over the decades, cursing at its gravestone and crying at it for not responding to him as he confessed the worst of his sins. He remembers the night he turned like it was yesterday.
It was a summer's night and Stiles and Scott were wasted. Having been to a house party earlier, already located near the borders of town, they ran drunkenly through the trees, laughing childishly, breaking one of Beacon Hills strictest rules. Little did they know that it would bite them in the ass, quite literally.
But of course, with Stiles and Scott's luck their adventure to go skinny-dipping in the lake rumored to be there, turned into a nightmare as they made their way to the clearing. A tree, a few feet away, noisily fell to the ground, wind from the fall felt from where they were, scaring Stiles and Scott out of their skin.
They looked at each other and ran. Running through the woods for their lives, he made sure to hold onto Scott's chronic asthmatic shirt to stick together. But even with all their effort, it was useless.
Something was chasing them, moving through the trees like a bullet train, right on their heels.
The closer and closer it got the slower his legs felt, something in him just knew, this was it, they were never going home again.
Everything felt like it happened in slow motion, he felt his body jolt back so hard, his shoulder rips out of its socket, and in an instant, Scott is gone.
Stiles didn't realize he was airborne until he slams back down on the ground, his body stumbling back into a tree, getting the wind knocked out of him.
Wheezing and blind from the impact he sits up, blurry vision only able to see shadowed figures. Scott screams Stiles's name, he stumbles up, wiping the blood from his mouth, then Scott's screams in agony stop abruptly as there's a sickly crack, followed by a slight splatter of liquid on Stiles's face, knowing by the metallic smell that it was blood.
He cries out Scott's name, but there's no response, only the brushing of trees that Stiles chases after aimlessly for hours. Sobbing, covered in blood with a few broken bones, he pushed himself until his legs gave out.
Half deranged, he laid there mouthing Scott's name over and over again, his voice lost hours ago. Stiles's human body was so weak it was dying right there in the middle of the woods.
He remembers the shallowness of his breath, the slowing of his heart. Stiles could've sworn he felt his last breath, he remembers closing his eyes, but then the next thing he knew he was blinking up to the sky, sun bright and blinding, in the state of transitioning.
When he reflectively ran under the darkness of the trees it was in that moment he not only realized he survived but also what he had turned into. The smell of blood on him triggered his hunger but he doesn't remember who were his first victims. Only that he had left a trail big enough for the entire town of Beacon Hills law enforcement to come looking for him.
Including his dad, the Sheriff. That night Stiles saw his dad for the last time, in the woods with his hunting rifle being followed by a group of cops.
He cried as he mouthed I love you to his dad and his last farewell before turning around and not returning for another 500 years.
And now here he was, kneeling in the woods where the tree that signaled his death had just smashed into pieces from his bare hands. Looking away from the tree's shattered remains Stiles glances back to the trail ahead. Gasping, he stands up and with inhuman speed runs to the muddy edges of the lake.
Watching as the rain ripples its surface, he sighs deeply. It was just an ordinary lake and to think they both died trying to see it was just pathetic. No really, before he knows it he's huffing out a laugh and then howling with laughter, crying as he thinks of their stupidity.
After he settles down, the thought of Scott actually alive and breathing makes him ecstatic despite how weird it was to see him flash alpha red eyes the other night. Stiles wasn't a speciesist and no matter how much Scott has changed, he'd be damned if he let their friendship get ruined over something so trivial.
Adrenaline fueled, he runs through the woods and deeper into the preserve, Betty tucked safely away under his arm. Howling mockingly, after some miles when he reaches the mountains of Beacon Hills preserve.
Even though he can run with inhuman speed, he didn't want to spend all day looking for them, so he made an effort to howl as many times as possible to draw the Hale's pack's attention. Hopefully, Scott's or Derek's since they were the only ones who knew him. Knowing Peter, he'd probably leave him out there or send someone else to kill him and Stiles really didn't feel like getting his hands dirty.
Wow, he was surprising himself lately, the blood of Derek's must be affecting his brain because he would never be doing this otherwise, he realizes, looking around in the middle of the woods. He knew he was out pretty far but he was clueless as to where the hell he could be.
He takes a deep breath, puffing up his chest with oxygen, getting ready to howl again when he senses something from behind him. Jumping out of the way, he spins to face it, Betty out at the ready in his hand before his eyes get assaulted by a whole lot of girl nakedness. Closing his eyes, he drops his hand wincing.
"Uhh hi?…" Stiles says awkwardly.
"We heard you the first time dumb dumb!" A voice says from right in front of him. He opens one eye and squints at the blonds smirking face from the night before in the clearing.
"Oh! I remember you!" Stiles says in excitement, fully opening his eyes.
"You sound like a dying squirrel," another deeper female voice says from his left. He glances quickly but reverts his eyes back to the blond as she continues smirking at him.
"Well, you guys aren't exactly easy to find so I had to resort to my last option." Both females burst out laughing.
"Oh my god. You need to do that again. Derek needs to hear that." The brunette girl from his left says, making the blond laugh, even more, wiping tears from her eyes. He huffs out a frustrated sigh,
"Ok, but can we laugh about this somewhere elsewhere it's not pouring rain? I really need to talk to Scott." The brunette girl carries on laughing as the blond tries to quit her giggling, clearing her throat she says,
"We can take you there but you're not allowed to see." He quirks his eyebrow in confusion,
"Uh, ok?"
"So close your eyes," The blond says, biting her lip.
So Stiles closes his eyes and swiftly gets knocked out. The next time he wakes up he's being carried on the back of a huge wolf. Its fur black with light patches of brown, he tries not to freak out realizing he's riding on a horse sized wolf.
He sits up already straddled on top of its back, holding onto the wolf's fur for stability and quickly getting the hang of it as he looks down the path to a grey stone driveway. Turning into the driveway he gasps when he sees it.
Eyes widening in shock as he looks at the sleek rustic mansion. It wasn't quite as big as Stiles estate but definitely a mansion. It's beautifully modern, blending in perfectly to its natural environment. Its wooden, cabin like exterior, stainless steel detailing, and enormous glass windows make him excited to see the inside.
Nearing the entrance, he gets nudged off to the ground suddenly, Betty landing in a clatter right beside him. Landing on his ass he grimaces from the pain but gets distracted as both girls transform into their human bodies in one fluent motion.
Noticeably staring, he stands up quickly, grabbing Betty as he watches them simply walk through the front door, dripping wet and completely naked. He smoothes his soaked hair over and follows them into the house. The girls walk further in the house but don't bother signaling him to follow so he stands there awkwardly, fidgeting with nerves. Hearing Derek's voice before he sees him, he instantly perks up but quickly deflates as Derek's voice comes closer.
"Cora I don't care! Go get dressed and hand me the towel." He swallows, bracing himself as Derek turns the corner but it's no use. Derek was pissed and Stiles dick couldn't help but twitch in excitement, dressed in a muscle hugging grey Henley and black jeans, Stiles's eyes rake up and down the alphas perfectly toned body. Stiles reflectively catches the towel thrown at his face, successfully drawing in his attention as he smirks up at Derek who's looking as beautiful as ever with a deep scowl on his face.
"What are you doing here Stiles?" He says, eyeing Betty propped up on his shoulder and crossing his arms, displaying his amazing muscled biceps, clearly not getting why Bettys choosing to make such a rare appearance.
Stiles mouth waters as the amber aroma hits him. Swallowing hard, he huffs out an annoyed breath at himself, unable to formally introduce Betty to Derek's all too pretty face. "Looking for Scott. Where is he?" He asks moodily.
Derek sighs deeply, "He's not here."
"Wha…where is he then?"
"Out. Now, why don't you go back home?" Derek says impatiently.
He scoffs, "Because Mr. Sourwolf, I didn't come all this way here to go back home. Actually, I think I'll stay awhile until he comes back. Thanks for inviting me in..." He walks past him but Derek pulls him back by the hem of his shirt. He sighs, unable to resist Derek's cute antics.
"Uh, I remember you saying once, my house, my rules buddy." He rolls his eyes.
"And?" Stiles walks closer, invading dangerously into Derek's personal space. "What the hell are you going to do about it?" Stiles whispers, making sure to Eskimo kiss Derek's nose for an extra kick.
Derek smirks, pulling Stiles in by the waist, he rips Betty from his grip throwing her behind them. Stiles gasps.
"Take off your clothes and find out." Stiles huffs out a laugh in relief leaning in for a kiss before Derek's curving him and walking away. Stunned by rejection, Stiles stares longingly after the alpha's ass,
"Damnnn..."
"Hurry up or I'll make you wait in your underwear!"
He laughs out loud, following Derek up the stairs connected to the front entrance, into a black sleek kitchen with a stone, glass case fireplace conveniently separating the formal cozy living room.
He follows Derek down a long hallway of doors, turning to the right to a wooden staircase, Stiles loving every inch of the house as he follows Derek close behind. Past another awesome glass hallway and down the right of the hall is where Derek stops and opens the doors.
He's left at the entrance openingly gaping at the room, taking in the beautiful sight before him. Derek walks straight into the walk in closet, disappearing behind a door that he leaves slightly open for Stiles to follow.
He smirks at how Derek, Derek's room is. Plush black duvet with leather and fur accent pillows and modern furniture, he bites his lip thinking of how much he'd just love to mess it up. The room has an amazing view of the preserve on the right overlooking a cliff that must drop at least 20, 30 feet and a wall with an impressive large flat-screen TV over a stone made fireplace opposite of his bed, with a talisman on display.
He sneakingly moves closer, the light catching on one of the steel swirls just right for him to do something he knows is going to get him in lots of trouble later. He jumps as the werewolf calls out his name.
"Coming dear!" Stiles replies, smiling at himself at Derek's imagined scowled face in his head. Inside Derek's walk in closet, also all black he might add, is the bathroom.
He walks in hesitantly as Derek's reaching into the cupboard and pulling out another fresh white towel. Handing it to Stiles and arching a brow up at him, he says,
"You can shower in here. Clothes are right there. Don't come out until Cora's scent is off of you." Derek says the last sentence a little more forcefully, which has Stiles forwarding his brows in confusion watching him leave and closing the door behind him.
Stripping off his clothes he makes sure to ring them in the sink, leaving them there to dry before going into the shower. It's made out of white marble, with all the jets and showerheads one person could possibly ever need. He smiles to himself as he thinks of how clean and neat Derek is, adding it to the list of pros for not killing him.
His mind lingers on the thought of the werewolf in there with him, helping cover his body with scented body wash a little longer than it should as Stiles's dick twitches in interest.
Already half hard, his heartbeat speeds up at the thought of the alpha being able to hear him jerk off, moaning his name over and over, begging to be taken. He swallows hard, leaning his head against the cool marble wall. Yup, and now he had a full hard on in Derek's shower.
Fuck! He was so screwed. Looking down at his dick fully erect and twitching he had no choice. He either jerked off right here or he walked around with blue balls and an obvious hard on.
Sighing, he reaches for the body wash, squirting it loudly in his hands to not draw suspicious attention as the sweet lavender scent reaches his nose. He rubbed it in, down his chest and shoulders, hands lingering over his perked nipples. The memory of Derek sucking on them replaying in his mind. God damn...
Moving his hands slowly down his torso and around his dick, he wraps his hand around the tip, pumping at it softly and imagining how amazing Derek's mouth would be around it.
Sucking, wet, and warm around him, eyeing him from underneath his long lashes half lidded and god, his tongue coming around and circling it slowly, teasing Stiles until he's taking his dick to its base. Stiles head falls back, quietly whimpering as he pumps at his dick more forcefully, gripping his dick painfully tight.
He would cry out, grabbing the alpha by his hair, helping guide him up and down, slurping and so tight down his throat. Shit, Stiles was close. Derek would literally suck the life out of him ruthlessly.
Until Stiles is desperately thrusting into his mouth, moaning and groaning, grabbing Derek's head and fucking in his throat with both hands tight in his hair. Spilling hot cum down his mouth and feeling his throat contract, gulping him down. Stiles gasps, cumming. Derek's moaning and taking all of Stiles, sucking lightly at the tip until Stiles pulls at his hair.
Leaning his head against the shower wall for support he quickly realizes how carried away he got. Covering his mouth with his hand absolutely mortified that he'd been moaning and gasping the whole time.
Fuck, yeah now he was going to get kicked out and banned from ever going into Derek's room again.
Stiles sighs deeply, quickly finishing his shower, scrubbing at his skin until it's raw and red, trying to cover up his scent. Grabbing the towel and drying off, he eyes the clothes Derek's lent him on the counter. Smirk slowly appearing on his face, thinking of wearing the alphas clothes around the house and what that might look like to his pack.
Putting on the Calvin Klein boxers, cozy grey sweatshirt, and black sweatpants Derek lent him, he walks out cautiously, wondering into Derek's room, thankfully not finding the alpha there waiting for him.
Confused, he makes his way out of the room and down the staircase to the kitchen where sure enough, the blond bombshell from earlier now dressed in tight black ripped jeans and leather, string strapped top and the brunette wearing a white sheer top and leggings stand over Derek, looking at his old fashioned Mac laptop in concentration. He swears if he had taken a picture it would've looked like some sort of fashion ad in a magazine.
"Uh, hey guys," Stiles says a little awkwardly, walking over to the island, curious to see what they're all looking at, bending over to take a peek before the laptop shuts quickly and Derek is squinting at Stiles in suspicion.
"Pack business. Anyway, This is Erica and Cora, my little sister. They will be keeping an eye on you while I'm away. Scott said he'd be back in a few minutes." Derek says, grabbing his laptop, he stands getting ready to leave. Stiles quickly rejects,
"What? You're leaving already? I just got here! You're a terrible host." Stiles pouts, crossing his arms, annoyed that Derek might have more important things to do. He didn't travel all this way just to be ignored, no, Stiles was one of the most feared creatures in the supernatural world, he should be treated as such. The werewolf rolls his eyes,
"Sorry your majesty, I didn't know you were showing up. I have plans and responsibilities that I need to go do. Scott's on his way?" Stiles huffs out a laugh, flabbergasted.
"No, Derek. I need to talk to you. No offense guys," he says towards the two girls, "This is important! After all, it's not every day I get eternally reliant on werewolf blood."
"He's right Derek. You made a commitment. Erica and I will leave you to it then." Cora says, pointedly looking down at the lower region of his body and back at him with a sly smirk on her face before grabbing Erica's hand.
Looking down in confusion he notices the Calvin Klein boxers band peaking out of Derek's sweatpants, his sweatshirt rising just enough when he crossed his arms to give them a proper show. He gives Derek a shit eating grin after he catches the alphas eyes skim across them. Derek rolls his eyes when their gazes catch, turning to glare at the retreating backs of his pack leaving him behind.
Derek huffs out a heavy sigh when they've completely gone, looking pissed at Stiles like being in the same room with him is a punishment in itself, with his sparkling green eyes glaring daggers at him. He sits back down in his seat, cautiously as if he was wary of any sudden movements Stiles might make.
Stiles can't help but smile wider, walking slyly around the island and into the alphas personal space. Derek turns in his seat to face him head on. He slides between the werewolves' knees.
"Hey, don't give me that look..." He says, voice low and teasing, wrapping his arms around Derek's broad shoulders. He licks his lips slowly watching as Derek gulps, eyes locked onto his lips and wet tongue as he continues, "I want to talk to you. Figure out whether or not I shouldn't just kill you. You know, weigh out the pros and cons. I'm sure you understand..."
Derek gives him a pointed look. He laughs, "Derek dear, don't tell me you thought last night's escapades were somehow a consummate to our deal? I still have some minor rules I need to enforce before we go head first into this lifelong blood marriage to one another..." He tightens his hold, successfully caging Derek in incase he tried to escape, he leans his weight onto him, aligning their bodies perfectly.
The alpha smirks showing off his dimples. Stiles swoons internally, leaning over to whisper into his ears, "Come on, Derek, get to know me. I dare you." Stiles smiles, the ghost of his breath over his ear successfully causing the werewolves eyes to gloss over.
Their eyes lock intensely, the sexual tension between them thickening as his right hand comes down to claw over Derek's muscled, grey henley chest and down his rock hard abs, physically ready to end this game of cat and mouse between them. But the alpha catches his hand before it can get any lower, bringing Stiles chin up to look at him properly, eyeing him with amusement.
"I don't like mixing business and pleasure. I think it's best if we keep things strictly professional. I thought you'd understand." Ouch. Stiles sighs forcefully, rolling his eyes. He tries to control the flare of possessiveness that washes over him, realizing how Derek's manipulation is getting to him. He fists his hand in Derek's tight henley, pushing them even closer together, their lips now inches apart, his fangs out and ready to bite as he spits,
"Professional? Is that what this is to you? A partnership?" He laughs, "Well, let me quickly clarify things. People quake with fear around me because I have the power to make them afraid. If you think I'm going to share you? You're wrong." He smiles licking his fangs, they pulse with the need to tear out flesh as thoughts of Derek with another make him burn with rage.
The werewolf sighs again, body smoothly rolling into Stiles' hold, standing challengingly in front of him,
"I know exactly what type of person you are, Stiles. What your cult is capable of. It's the exact reason why I'll be the one in charge of making the rules." Derek says eyeing Stiles coldly. Stiles tries to suppress a manic laugh, biting his lip with his fangs, that's it. He's over trying to play nice.
He thrusts Derek back into the counter, the chair falling loudly to the side as he's grabbing the belt of Derek's jeans, holding him down and against the island.
"Is that so?..." Thrusting back into Derek's hips, he moans feeling both their groins brush against each other, grabbing Derek by the neck, giving the vulnerable tendons there a light squeeze. Derek's eyes bleed red, baring his fangs and letting out a low, threatening growl but before Stiles can retaliate further, Scott walks in, shirtless in a pair of jeans already dried off, holding a towel around his neck. Derek's hand comes up to yank down Stiles wrists, releasing himself from Stiles grip to break their stare off, glancing over at Scott.
"Uh, Did I interrupt something? I'll leave?" Derek glares back at him, clenching his jaw as he arches a judgemental brow up, green unimpressed eyes looking up and down his body.
Stiles blinks a few times trying to deceiver the language of Derek's brows before realizing he's hinting at their compromising position, his hands still fisted onto the alpha's belt. Stiles looks back at him with a smug smile on his lips, shifting on his feet but refusing to let go.
"No, not at all Scott. Stiles has been waiting for you." Derek says condescendingly, glaring back at him before pushing against his chest and standing up straighter, though Stiles doesn't let him go just yet.
They stand there eye to eye now, the dirty look Derek's giving him making him contemplate if he should tell Scott he needs to settle some unsolved business before dragging the werewolf away to finish off what they started in private.
"Oh yeah, to catch up and stuff. Stiles, do you mind? I have to change out of these clothes." Scot's voice interrupts him out of his vivid thoughts. Stiles sighs deeply, taking another step back and reluctantly letting Derek go and walk away, his fangs retracting automatically in Scott's presence.
But he makes sure to never break his gaze away from the alpha's though, tracking Derek leave the room, the promise to fulfill where they left off silently communicating between their shared searing, lingering looks. He clears his throat.
"No, not at all. We have a lot to talk about." Scott smirked, walking over to Stiles and putting an arm around him. Stiles tries hard not to reflectively flinch from his touch.
"Yeah of course bro, this way." Scott leads Stiles to his room on the first floor of the house. His room is just how Stiles would picture it.
Big glass walls, messy desk, and messy plaid duvet covered bed with band posters and pictures covering one entire wall. Scott changes and walks out of his bathroom with a light blue shirt and grey sweatpants.
Sitting on Scott's bed, Stiles studies his face as he sits down next to him, blinking rapidly, a nervous habit Stiles picked up on when they were kids. Scott clears his throat,
"So, where do I even begin?" Stiles smirks,
"Dude, how did we both manage to die on the same day? That's what I want to know." Scott laughs, wiping at his eyes,
"I know bro, it's crazy! I guess I should start out with the night at the lake." He listens intently as Scott explains how they happened to be in the middle of a territory fight that night, between a rogue werewolf, who Scott later found out was Peter, and a hunter.
"What!" Stiles cries outraged but Scott bites his lip and nods.
"I know right but let me finish…" Scott explains how he was bitten by mistake, that Peter actually mistook them for hunters that night, biting and turning Scott in the process. He finds out that Beacon Hills had a high percentage of hunters, humans, who would use magic to kill off other supernatural creatures who crossed into their territory.
"No way!" Stiles says, surprised that he was not able to pick up on that when he was a human.
"Yeah, dude! Beacon Hills was full of them. They had almost destroyed Derek's pack, the Hales, centuries ago! They tried to burn their entire house down with everyone in it. It happened during the war when lycanthropes had been declared extinct or so we were told."
He swallowed hard, remembering, wondering why the war was always such a vague subject in school. The night they were turned, Peter returned to Beacon Hills to make an alliance with the town's counsel but they had set up a trap. Hence, why Scott was killed that night when Peter mistook them for hunters.
He grabs at his hair,
"Well, if Peter had been set up then he must have known what Vampire turned me? Scott, I ran after you guys for hours! I should've died that night but a Vampire saved me! I need to know who it was." Scott slouches back on his bed,
"Dude, Peter was ambushed. I doubt he bothered to find out who it was but by all means if you want to ask him, go right ahead. He's an ass though. I doubt he'd tell you anything, especially because you're a Vampire." Scott shrugs. Sighing deeply in frustration, he tries to calm down his anger. Peter fucking Hale. He was going to kill him.
"Scott, how could you not have killed Peter for turning you? You gave up your entire life, your family, your friends?" Stiles searches his eyes for answers as Scott sits up, looking out of his window to the pouring rain.
"Trust me. I did. I fought him and almost killed him but then I changed…" Scott looks at Stiles as his eyes change to a deep color of red. "I became an Alpha. A true Alpha. It changed everything...but I kept it hidden. Stiles, werewolves are extinct for a reason. Tensions between our kind, Hunters, and Vampires still exist. If word got out about us…." Stiles knew without Scott needing to explain.
"Extinction. I get it, but why return now? After so long?" He needed to know what Derek's real ulterior motive involving him was for. Scott clears his throat.
"Stiles I never left. I never left Beacon Hills. I kept my true form hidden and I stayed to watch over my mom and your dad until their last days…" Scott chokes up and it has to be the most heartbreaking thing he has ever heard. The tears, silently spilling from Scot's brown eyes, he wipes them away hurriedly, looking down at his hands.
His eyes water too but he assumes if there was ever a time to awkwardly burst into tears he would choose this moment. The whole teary thing was still so strange to him but he knows Scott wouldn't judge him for it so he puts a supporting arm over his childhood best friend as he says,
"I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for you Scott. You don't know how much that means to me…" Scott sniffs, nodding his head, still looking down at his hands, before swallowing and continuing to explain,
"I told him Stiles. I told your dad. I know you might hate me for it but I had to. He needed to know. He had been suffering for months, years, even. My mother had fallen in love with him. I wanted to stop his suffering so that our parents could live a fulfilled life. He was shocked but after a couple of months, he accepted it. Knew you were out there somewhere and he lived on Stiles. He married my mom and they lived together until their last days. It was beautiful." Scott glances at him with a teary filled gaze and looks back down.
Stiles huffs out a laugh as he hangs his head, unable to speak, the tears numbly rolling down his cheeks.
"Scott…I. I'm so happy. I could die." He means it. He's been through hell and back so many times he's lost count. He's spent so much time dwelling in his guilt, he'd thought he'd never be able to fill the void in his life that Scott and his dad had left behind.
Feeling so empty most of the time that the sole purpose of the gun he'd put into his mouth on many occasion was to fuel something inside of him, to feel something, anything at all. The explosive pain from the bullet hitting the back of his throat sickly satisfying. Though, the release of the trigger did not bring the promise of relief from his misery, only the haunting last moments of his old life, his Vampiric curse forcing him to open his eyes and face his hollow, immortalized existence.
Scotts laughing, knocking their shoulders together but Stiles couldn't feel it. The happiness in him had died a long time ago. There were only questions racing through his mind now, wondering if this was even real or perhaps some cruel joke. He had so much to say but he just couldn't form the words, though when he glances at Scotts smiling face, the words just come pouring out of him.
"Scott, I…I'm so sorry! I thought you were dead!" Stiles launches himself into his brothers arms hugging him tightly to his chest, needing to feel him in his arms to confirm that this was real. He continues openly sobbing as he says. "I've missed you so much!"
Scott hugs him back as they both sniff and wipe at their eyes. After a minute Stiles releases him from his hold, calmed down a bit, he continues rambling, hoping this sudden cathartic moment allows him to keep forming the words that have been kept hidden within him for so many years.
"I thought my dad would hate me for what happened. Losing you...For what I…I had become so I ran away. The last time I saw him, he was with a shotgun. I thought he'd hate me if he ever found out." Scott smirked sadly, rubbing his back, something his dad would do when he was upset and it does nothing to stop the tears.
"Stiles he didn't care. He searched for you for years. Nearly got himself killed a few times. I couldn't keep it hidden from him any longer. In the end, he felt relieved." Stiles nods his head and sighs deeply, roughly wiping away the annoying tears that seem never ending.
"I can't believe our parents got married. I'm so happy he moved on from my mom." He nearly chokes up again but he swallows the lump in his throat as he looks at Scott's dorky smile. "We're brothers Scott!" Scott laughs and says sarcastically,
"Yeah, turned natural-born enemies! It's so awesome!" Stiles nudges his arm as they both laugh. He wipes at his eyes,
"God, look at us. I don't know if we have the worst or best luck in the world. Our lives are literally a universal joke." Scott sighs,
"I know right! It's crazy but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's like fate." Stiles nods though he has never believed in it, not after witnessing the horrors that he has seen. He clears his throat again, trying not to let his mind wander into forbidden territory, he changes the topic.
"Well, now that you're a werewolf, Alpha, at that, how does that work with Derek's pack dynamic?" Scott explains to him how Derek insisted he stay with his pack. Derek wasn't as cold hearted as he seemed. He was like a brother to Scott and from a big family that welcomed him with open arms. Throughout the years, Scott would send letters to them and when it was time after their parents passing, Scott joined them in South Africa, where the majority of the Hale pack lived in hiding.
Stiles felt somewhat bad for noting that in the back of his mind, but he also had a family to protect. The information Scott was giving to him might be vital for later down the road, in case Derek tries to turn on him.
Overall though, Scott was pretty vague with the information he gave, only bragging about a werefox named Kira he had fallen in love with and planned on marrying. Stiles wanted to be genuinely happy for Scott but couldn't help his nagging thoughts constantly questioning Derek's motive.
Surely, being associated with Scott wasn't the only reason. Even he wouldn't trust an alliance based on that alone. Yes, he had name recognition, but that couldn't be the only reason Derek would go to such great lengths to tie himself to Stiles. He needed answers and the more he talked to Scott the more apparent it was that there was a missing link.
Stiles hangout with Scott lasted until the wee hours into the night.
Getting to know one another was a lot more complicated than when they were human. But Scott was his best friend for a reason and being able to read him like a book was just one of the many annoying traits that he excelled in.
Stiles didn't know why he was so good at it but by the end of the night, he had found himself confessing a lot of things he knew he was going to regret later. Hoping Scott wouldn't use any of it against him.
Scott showed him out, telling him to follow the dirt road that led to the house and the main road home, bear hugging him. Picking him up like he was light as a feather had him remembering his best friend, brother, was an actual badass alpha who could crush him with his bare hands.
He was impressed, changed back into his original clothes with Betty dangling from his hands, he walks back into the dark pouring rain, following the driveway path from the house lost in thought. He hadn't met many supernatural beings who were equal, if not, stronger than he was.
He's even met different types of shape-shifters before but none of them ever came close to matching a Vampire's strength, let alone his own. No wonder why there were only a few of them, if there was anything Vampires hated more than losing out on a meal it was having actual rivalries.
So, back to his predicament.
To kill or not to kill Derek Hale and his entire pack. Normally, he'd love to make Derek suffer, killing his entire pack, draining them of all their blood, and forcing him to watch but logically Derek's pack were far too much of a liability.
They could easily kill one of his own. Forcing him to live eternally in guilt, along with the recurring fear of running out of the alpha's blood bags, losing Scott, ridding the world of the beauty that is Derek Hale, his ass, and potentially the best sex he could ever have, was weighing heavily on him.
Basically, his situation was far too complicated right now and he reluctantly had to wait to find more ammunition to use before ending all their lives. But don't worry, Stiles never let his prey stray too far, it was only a matter of time…
He halts, listening to their movements before seeing the two wolves appear in front of him. The black massive wolf with red eyes was undoubtedly Derek but the silver one with electric blue eyes, he wasn't so sure about.
Ah, never mind, the ground-shaking snarl sent towards his direction has him knowing in an instant.
"Peter. I'd say it was nice to see you too but then I'd be lying…" Peter growls, low and threatening with his hair standing up on end, looking ready to pounce before Derek glances at him and stops immediately.
Staring at Stiles with his unnerving red eyes; Derek's wolf jumps.
Transforming to defend himself Stiles is pleasantly surprised when Derek, in human form, lands right in front of him. Inches apart, leaving him breathless as his eyes and fangs automatically retract.
Derek's shoulders are bare and temptingly suggestive of the rest of his body. He strains not to look, instead, searching his eyes.
Derek's red eyes glow back at him, the tension in the air suffocating as his nose flares, grabbing the vampires face, he leans into Stiles's neck, rubbing and sniffing into it.
He's tense but the feeling of soft lips brushing against his skin, makes him moan, eyes rolling back, leaning into the steamy touch before it's completely gone and Stiles is staring back at nothing but the dark, rainy road ahead.
Sighing out a shaky breath, Stiles looks back, searching for the two wolves, but he's alone.
Smiling stupidly to himself the rest of the way home with a hand rubbing at the junction between his neck and shoulder, reeling in the feeling of those forbidden soft lips that he so desperately longs for.
Arriving home, Stiles immediately smells blood, running to the source, already dead, lying face down on the stained blood carpet in his formal living room.
"Lydia?..."