The warm breeze blowing against his face is comforting. The feeling reminds him of when his mother would take him to the park. The two of them would spend the entire day running around the play ground until she would spread out an old blue blanket over the grass. They would eat sandwiches and fall asleep in the warm rays of sunshine next to the swinging bridge. He thinks that is one of the things he misses most. Then his thoughts turn to the soft pressure on his shoulders.
The scent of leather, blood, and earth fills his nose. Something that feels agonizingly familiar curls in the pit of his stomach as he inhales deeply. The pressure on his shoulders goes tight and he feels himself being rocked back and forth. His eyes snap open and he drags oxygen into his lungs sharply. Derek is staring down at him with a blood soaked face and watery eyes. Stiles reaches up and tugs at shredded leather sleeves. Derek collapses against him with a broken sob and Stiles holds him closer.
Relief and happiness swells in his chest as he takes in the rhythmic beat of Derek's heart along with the hitched breathing next to his ear. Stiles can't place the feeling at first and then he gets it. Derek is his pack; his only pack. He doesn't understand why he can feel that now. Actually, physically, feel it. Before he just knew, but now his can sense the tug in his core, the flutter at the back of his mind that tells him Derek is alive.
"Your heart wasn't beating, Stiles. You weren't breathing." The words are whispered and desperate against his ear. Derek grips at Stiles' tattered shirt, inhaling greedy gulps of his scent. He wraps his arms around Derek's neck, pulling him tighter to his chest. "Stiles—"
Stiles shifts back to look into Derek's eyes. He turns his head away and wipes at his eyes, embarrassed.
"Derek look at me," he demands. Stiles gives Derek's shoulder a shake causing the man to turn his gaze to him. "We're alive." Stiles places Derek's hand to the pulse point of his neck and smiles briefly. "See? Listen. My heart is steady and I'm here. Everything hurts like a bitch, but I'm here with you. We made it."
Derek's eyes lock onto Stiles' neck. He thumbs at the pulse point there like he had before. Stiles looks down at Derek's chest. He expects to see a jagged open flesh wound where his dagger carved into him, but instead there are crisp black lines that are partially covered in dried blood. He traces over the rune with the pads of his fingers realizing that it's different than what he originally drew. It extends up over Derek's left shoulder only to curl back down his arm and around his wrist. The lines twist and turn into symbols and letters that Stiles doesn't recognize. Derek shivers under his touch.
"We match," Derek says nodding to Stiles' own chest.
He looks down quickly to see that Derek is right. His chest still stings with lingering pain, but where once bloody wounds lay there are now the same inky black design reaching over his right shoulder and trailing down his arm. Derek grins softly as he places a hand in the center of his chest. The black veins curling up Derek's arm are harsh in the light of the morning. He feels the last remnants of pain draining from his body.
A light breeze ruffles the leaves above them. The sunlight is filtering down through the branches, turning the forest floor into a kaleidoscope of shadows and sunbeams. It seems peaceful here, as if darkness hasn't touched it yet. Darkness, something that Stiles had felt surrounding his heart since, his, Scott's and Allison sacrifice. It was gone now. Derek's presence and the loss of their pack was the only thing he could feel there now.
"It's different," Derek says quietly as he scents the air. "I'm not sure where we are."
Stiles blinks in confusion and looks around. They are still at the Nemeton, but Derek's right. The ground is even instead of jagged and marred from the numerous fights and magical battles that had happen in the last few years. The carved rune and the blood that had soaked the ground under their bodies has disappeared leaving only fresh green moss curling along the Nemeton's roots.
"The book is gone," Stiles mutters as long fingers trace the empty space where the leather bound tome had once laid.
"It smells different. I—It smells like—" Derek is abruptly cut off by a furious growl. Every muscle in their bodies tense as they clamber to their feet and whip around to see Laura Hale. A very alive, very angry, Laura Hale who standing in front of them, wearing Derek's scowly face. She snarls, fangs elongated menacingly.
"Who are you and what the hell do you think you are doing trespassing on Hale territory?" Her eyes flash yellow and, okay, even Stiles is stunned by that. If her eyes are yellow then that must mean—
"Laura, stand down," the voice holds the command of an Alpha. Alpha Talia Hale Stiles realizes as she steps out of the shadows from behind Laura. She looks just like Stiles had pictured. Her hair is dark and blowing lightly in the breeze. Her hazel eyes are firm, "We will let them explain."
Stiles chances a look at Derek. When he falls to his knees Stiles drops down beside him and grips his shoulder tight. Derek is staring at his mother and sister whom have been dead for years. Stiles is pretty sure he isn't breathing. He looks back to the Hale women.
"We're sorry to have trespassed, but we had no choice, Alpha Hale," he rambles out. Stiles takes a moment to consider this may not be the living world anymore. Talia and Laura's presence would clearly suggest that it isn't. "We don't actually know how we got here."
Derek finds the hand laying firmly on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Stiles relaxes if only marginally.
"I think someone needs to explain what the hell is going on," snaps Laura eyeing the markings on their bodies. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? What coven are you from?"
"We're not witches," Stiles says lamely. "I'm being completely honest. We aren't even exactly sure what is happening or has happened."
Stiles can see that Talia and Laura are torn. His heart is steady and his breathing calm; there is nothing to indicate a lie. They debate this issue with silent looks until Talia turns red eyes on him. Stiles can see were Derek and Laura have gotten their patented scowl.
"Then you better start from the beginning, because you, young man, certainly smell like a witch," she says lowly and crosses her arms. "Magic has a very distinct scent. One that is clinging to your very core."
Derek squeezes Stiles' hand tighter. "We are seeking refuge after an attack on our pack," he explains.
"How many dead?" Laura inquires, voice mildly softer.
"Several. Everyone but us."
"You do not smell like you belong to a wolf pack that large," Talia interrupts, her eyes skeptical.
"We weren't all wolves. I'm human, there was a kitsune and a banshee—I—we were a mixed matched group." Stiles takes a breath. "We were hunted. They started picking us off slowly and then they just killed everyone. We don't know why—" the growing lump in his throat hinders him from finishing.
"Your entire pack has been killed?" Talia's voice is incredibly soft and sorrowful. "How did you manage to escape?"
"Just before the last attack we learned about a possible way out by use of an ancient rune with an old ritual. Our emissary said it was supposed to grant a second chance." Stiles gestures to the marked design on their bodies. The Hales study it as he talks. "We were running from whatever was hunting us, and we stopped at the Nemeton. We couldn't go any further. I was too exhausted and there was too much wolfsbane in his system," he shuffles closer to Derek. "We carved the runes into each other before we died. At least I'm pretty sure we died. It felt like I died."
Derek disentangles their hands and tucks an arm protectively around Stiles' waist. His head is hung low and he is looking everywhere but at Talia and Laura.
"You died?" Laura asks, disbelief coloring her tone.
Stiles nods once firm eyes hard. "Yes. Now we are here; wherever here is."
"You are in Beacon Hills, and you are most certainly not dead," Talia says.
"They aren't real. None of this is real," Derek mutters. "They can't be real, Stiles."
"The way I see it there are three possibilities. We have gone completely crazy and are imagining you, we are actually dead and in hell, or this is an alternate universe. At the moment I'm leaning toward the latter, considering that I have ten fingers, and I pictured hell to be…" he pauses while gesturing wildly with one hand, "well, not this."
Talia rubs at her temples. "You don't smell familiar, but you claim Beacon Hills is the home of your pack?"
"Was," he corrects bitterly. "Scott McCall was our Alpha. Derek Hale has inherited the position after the event of his death."
Laura's eyes flash as she snarls, spit flying. "Derek Hale died six years ago. He was killed by a hunter," she spits lividly.
Derek's head snaps up and his eyes lock with Laura's for the first time. She gasps and grabs her mother's arm in surprise. Talia's eyes widen in disbelief as she really looks at Derek. She hurriedly closes the distance between them until she is crouched in front of him, a hopeful smile tainting her face.
"Was the name of that Hunter Kate Argent?" Stiles inquires quietly.
Talia nods once and then her arms are wrapped around Derek's neck. The hug looks stiff and uncomfortable. Derek has one arm around Talia, while the other is still tucked securely around Stiles like if he lets go his world just might unravel.
"Der, is that really you?" Laura asks as she squats down.
Derek pulls away. He face is a jumbled mess of emotions that Stiles can't read, but happiness isn't anywhere to be found. He looks like someone who has had their momentary contentment ripped from them multiple times and isn't ready to fall for it again.
"I'm a Derek, but I don't think I'm your Derek," he says softly and then Stiles gets it.
No matter how much they look like the Hales that Derek lost in the fire all those years ago, they aren't actually them. Just like if Scott is here he won't really be the Scott Stiles grew up with, and his Dad won't be his dad. Their pack was still dead and they are still alone.
"Doesn't matter. You're still family no matter what version of Derek you are," Talia says.
"Your scent is nearly identical," Derek says quietly.
Laura's brow furrows and she glances from stiles to Derek.
"But you don't smell like us in the slightest. I wouldn't have been nearly as rude if you had." She pauses shortly. "Wait, why did you have another Alpha?"
Derek doesn't reply, and Stiles understands that he can't. He gives Derek's shoulders another squeeze.
"His family was killed in a fire when he was fifteen; a fire set by Kate Argent." Stiles clears his throat. "It's a really long fucked up story that eventually ends in the death of everyone, so…"
Talia looks at them sorrowfully before exchanging a look with Laura. Derek and Stiles are pulled to their feet by the Hale women, who begin leading them toward their home.
"We can compare universes after you both have cleaned up and had some rest." Talia places her palm against Derek's cheek. "I may not be the mother you grew up with, but that doesn't mean you are not technically my cub." Stiles is no longer slotted up against Derek, but he sees the way his shoulders relax at the comment.
"One more question," Laura says as she looks closer at Stiles. "Just exactly who are you? Did Derek call you Stiles?"
Stiles scratches at the back of his neck.
"Name's Stiles Stilinski. Uh—my dad might be the Sheriff." Laura's eyes have gone wide and she looks to her mother. "Oh, God please don't tell me I'm like some crazed psycho here, or that you guys, like, hate me for some reason."
Laura places a hand firmly on his shoulder and they begin walking again.
"Neither of those actually," she says quietly. "You died several months ago. Cora went to your funeral."
oOo
According to Derek the Hale house looks just like it did in their universe. Looking at it now Stiles realizes why Derek had been so reluctant to let go even when it had only been a burnt out shell. There are flower beds surrounding the porch with different colored blooms indicating late summer. Toys are scattered haphazardly around the yard; a stray jump rope nearly sends Stiles sprawling before Derek catches him by the elbow.
When they climb the polished wooden steps to the porch he catches sight of several sets of hand prints scattered around the edges in multi-colors. Inside he sees the staircase Derek and been thrown down and Scott nearly killed on. Littered with a few magazines and different odds and ends that belong to different members of the family it doesn't look like blood could ever be spilt there.
Talia goes further into the house and comes back with a set of clean clothes for Derek and Stiles. She points Stiles in the direction of the downstairs bathroom whiles Derek heads for the stairs. Derek looks at him as if to ask if he will be alright alone. Stiles simply nods once with a tentative smile. He watches as Derek takes the steps two at a time.
The bathroom on the first floor is huge. Stiles flails a little bit when he sees all of the beauty products on the counter. He laughs a little as he turns on the shower and shimmies out of his ruined clothes. No about of stain remover, in any universe, can get out that much blood. When he steps under the hot spray he sighs audibly. He closes his eyes to keep from seeing the rust colored water swirl down the drain.
In the back of his mind he realizes this in the first actual shower he has taken since the pack was attacked. He pushes those thoughts from his mind and begins scrubbing the blood off of his arms. When he is finished the bathroom is a haze of steam. He grabs the towel and eyes the long sleeve shirt and track pants with a weary glance. He is almost positive they belong to Peter. They smell like they belong to Peter. He stops momentarily to wonder how he knows that, but promptly decides it is something they can worry about later. Preferably when they have a solid plan for survival lined up.
When he pulls on the pants there is a soft knock on the door. He frowns as he tugs on the shirt before yanking open the door to find Laura.
"Uh—can I help you?" he asked confused.
She coughs when a cloud of steam hits her in the face.
"I wanted to talk. Derek is exuding extreme protectiveness right now so, I thought this would be a good time."
"Can you blame him for being protective?" he asks with a raised brow.
Laura shakes her head and pushes past him to takes a seat on the toilet seat. Stiles closes the door and leans back on the sink counter. He levels her with a curious stare.
"So, did you know me in your universe?" Laura asks simply.
Stiles shifts uncomfortably as he remembers the upper half her lifeless body lying in the grave next to the charred remain of her house. "Never had the pleasure I'm afraid."
Laura clicks her tongue and picks at the frayed hem of her t-shirt. As Stiles looks at her he can seen Talia in her features, but not nearly as much as Derek has. Her hair is much lighter and her eyes a deep brown.
"You said we all died."
"Mostly. You Derek and Peter survived. Cora too but we didn't know that until a long time after.
"If I survived how come you never met me?"
"Peter kind of went crazy after it happened."
"Crazy?"
"Yeah, he— he was in a coma for six years. That, well, it isn't good on a werewolf's psyche. I don't know how seeing him again is going to turn out. I'm pretty sure he is the one who orchestrated the attack on our pack or at least tipped off the hunters that killed us." Laura looks up with raised eyebrows. "He killed you to become Alpha and create a pack to get revenge on the Argents. I've been to the grave that Derek dug for you. I've watched Derek kill Peter and become Alpha. We have seen him resurrect himself only to kill and terrorize us all over again. That kind of insanity…"
"You wonder how it can't exist in him in this universe as well," she deduces. "Peter didn't take Derek's death well. He blamed himself for not noticing what was happening with him and Kate. He and Derek were the closest in the pack. I mean they were outnumbered when it came to Hale women after all." Stiles smiles. "The night Derek died Peter was supposed to have been with him, but he was running late. Got hung up at work. They were meeting at the school for a late practice. Kate got there first."
"She didn't go after the entire family?"
"That had been her plan. Kill Derek then burn our house to the ground while we mourned. Peter got there just as the wolfsbane bullet struck Derek's heart. He ripped Kate apart before she could lower her gun."
"But-"
"He killed her brutally, but it was a just killing. Peter has three children and a wife who he loves with all his heart. He visits Derek's grave every day, but he has never harbored any ill will toward anyone, but Kate."
Stiles wanted to believe that this Peter was good, but he knew it would take a long time before he ever trusted any version of Peter Hale. Stiles scratches the back of his neck before flailing wildly hands extending outward.
"How did the Argents retaliate after Kate's death? Didn't they try and like, I don't know, eradicate you guys?"
Laura smirked. "Her brother was understanding. Derek was a just a kid who had never hurt anyone, and Kate was twisted in a very sick way. Chris lives by the code. Their father was the one we had issues with."
"Gerard," Stiles mutters darkly.
"Evil bastard in your universe too?" Stiles nods. "Yeah, well he tried to finish what Kate started by staging murders around town. He claimed that our pack had turned feral and that we needed to be put down. In the end we killed the bastard when he attacked Mom with a sword and tried to get her to bite him. He tried to run her through with a fucking wolfsbane laced blade."
"Language," Talia calls from down the hall.
"Chris defended our family and we were left alone after that. We have a long standing treaty with the Argent family now. He still lives here with his daughter—"
"Allison," Stiles says with a sad smile.
"Pack?"
Stiles nods. "She was. She was killed nearly a year and a half ago."
Derek opens the door with a blank expression. Derek and Allison had never been close. They had only just begun to get along before she died, but Derek had still been affected by her loss through everyone else. Stiles smiles at him. Derek is clean and dressed in a soft blue sweater and jeans. Without his usual leather jacket and Henley he looks younger, but Stiles know that both of them are far too old for their age.
"I thought we could inform them about a few of our villains. See if there is anything we can prevent in this world that we failed to in our own," Derek says as he steps over to Stiles, their shoulders brushing.
"Why don't we take this conversation to the kitchen so you boys can eat? The pack will be out for a few more hours," Talia says.
Derek and Stiles follow the Hale women into the kitchen. They take a seat at the island and watch as Laura sets about pulling leftovers out of the fridge. Derek is trying hard to keep his expression neutral, but Stiles can see the wonderment creeping into his eyes as they track Laura.
"Why don't you start from the beginning? I think the universes lose their Parallelism around Kate Argent's appearance. How about you both start there?" Talia says as she watches them from across the counter.
They take turns talking as Laura force feeds them meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Stiles knew what they had lived through wasn't normal, but judging by the looks on the faces of Laura and Talia they hadn't imaged it had been nearly as bad as it was. When they are done and Laura and Talia are looking at them with pitying eyes, Stiles yawns and glances over at the digital clock next to the door. It's only slightly past noon, but he doesn't think he can keep his eyes open much longer, until he sees the date.
"Derek," Stiles mutters as he slaps him on the shoulder while pointing to the clock, "looks like we didn't just switch universes."
Derek, as per usual, doesn't say anything. He simply sits there staring at the tiny little 2011 squished next to 12:16pm. Laura reaches across the granite counter top, brushing her finger tips over Derek's arm.
"What's wrong?" she questions. Her glance alternates between both him and Stiles.
"In our—uh—we are older in our world. Older by, like, a few years. How old was this Stiles?" He feels Derek's hand land on his shoulder.
"Um, I don't know, fifteen or sixteen maybe?" says Laura. "You and Cora were both getting ready to start your Sophomore year."
Stiles grabs his hair with one hand and gestures wildly toward Derek. "That was when we met Derek. Right after Scott got bit. Oh, shit, you don't think…?"
Derek shakes his head, "They would know about any rogue Alphas in the area."
Stiles looks to the Hale women for reassurance. Both Talia and Laura are sitting with their heads held high, but they are avoiding eye contact. Shit.
"Why do you think, Mom and I were lurking out in the woods?" Laura asks quietly.
"Oh, hell, please tell me I wasn't Alpha kibble," Stiles begs.
"You were not," Talia declares firmly. "It was a cerebral hemorrhage. You went quickly and without warning according to the Sheriff."
Just hearing the words had his heart aching. He could take having his father killed in front of him. He could survive, will survive, but leaving his dad alone? He wasn't so sure how well he could handle this. Could the Sheriff handle that?
"You are on speaking terms with the Sheriff?" Derek questions.
"We let Sheriff Stilinski in on our secret after your death, Derek. Unfortunately, a murder scene at a high school in broad daylight with supernatural creatures is harder to hide than you think," Talia says. "The Sheriff is also a very smart man."
"You just need more practice," Stiles mutters. "Wait. My da—The Sheriff knows about werewolves?"
"Yes, having law enforcement on our side has helped tremendously. Territory is much easier to control when you have law enforcement helping with certain conflicts."
Stiles sits back in his chair and Derek rests a hand on his knee. Stiles calms a little at the touch and gives Derek something akin to a smile.
"Did I know? I mean did other Stiles know?"
Laura shakes her head. "The Sheriff always said if you knew that you would get way too involved and probably get killed. Looks like he was right."
Stiles sets up straighter and glares at Laura. Derek tightens his grip on his knee but Stiles ignores him.
"You don't know what we have been through," he spits icily. "I died, yes, but this isn't the first time Derek and I have died. We've died because people needed saving, because no one ever thinks what killing an entire pack can do to a druid!" He kicks his chair back. "Or because no one ever taught Derek what to do if his entire pack was killed and he became an Alpha. We did the best we could with the cards we were dealt. When it came down to it we were a pack and all of us knew how to survive if left on our own, because in our Beacon Hills that line of thinking was just fucking practical."
Stiles takes in ragged breaths as he stares at the shocked look he has left on their faces. He and Derek hadn't gone into specific detail about everything, but that still didn't give them—oh was—Derek was hugging him. Yep, he was totally being hugged right now. Derek is holding him tight to his chest, nose buried in his neck, breathing deeply. Stiles sinks into the embrace, letting Derek calm him down until he is pliant in his grip.
"I miss them too," he says. "I miss Scott and your dad. I miss them all, but they aren't coming back. As strange and screwed up as this may be, we are all we have left. We are pack, Stiles."
Stiles nods into Derek's chest, "Pack." Derek squeezes him just a little tighter.