Stiles has come to the realization that Laura Hale is an unstoppable force of nature. 'One to be reckoned with,' as Talia says. He never had the pleasure of meeting the Laura of his original universe, but by the stories that Derek tells him when they lay in the dark of their room, he knows he would have adored her. Her sarcasm is just as on point as his own, and her humor is something Stiles craves almost as much as curly fries. Derek says that he never imagined her to be any different no matter the universe. Laura is a constant, no matter the time, place, or world.
Sometimes, Stiles catches himself watching her. She carries herself with undeniable confidence, and she gives the absolute best death glares. He loves those the most, especially when they are aimed at Peter. He occasionally wonders what it would have been like if Peter hadn't managed to kill her; if she had been their Alpha. He knows Scott would have butted heads with her, but Scott would have trusted her without question. He thinks maybe some lives would have been spared, but he knows he can't change their past. He tries not to dwell on it too much, but sometimes he finds he can't help it.
The Camero stops in front of the school with a harsh squeal of tires and a jerk that has Stiles momentarily checking himself for injuries. Laura looks at him pointedly, as if offended that he would think she would allow him to be hurt.
"You shouldn't be allowed a license. You do realize that, right?" he questions as he unbuckles himself.
"Oh, please," Laura says, indignantly. "I'm an amazing driver."
"You're worse than Derek."
"I would have totally soccer mommed you had there been any real danger."
"That does wonders for my masculinity. Really, it does."
She laughs loudly at him. Stiles can't resist grinning at her reaction. He pushes up the sleeves of Derek's sweater, inhaling the scent and allowing it to calm him. When Derek had peeled it off his sleep warmed body earlier this morning and shoved it in his direction, his face heated up and his stomach flipped. He attributes the love of being covered in Derek's sent to his new pack instincts, but when they are laying in bed at the end of the night with their limbs tangled in one another's, he knows it is more than that. He tries not to think about the implications of that. They don't have time to deal with his misplaced emotions right now.
Looking out the windows, he takes note of the students milling around. He stills once he realizes that people have stopped to stare at Laura's car. He can understand their curiosity. She really has no business being at the school. She graduated years ago, and it is a well known fact that Cora rides with her friends. The questionable stares and whispered questions are only to be expected, but that doesn't mean it's welcome.
Stiles sighs and makes a move to open the door when he sees Isaac walk past. He had long forgotten how lost and defeated he had looked before Derek turned him. Stiles remembers Isaac as confident, sarcastic, werewolf, not withdrawn and hunched in on himself. Seeing him now with a black eye and busted lip makes his heart ache and his temper boil. He watches him walk up the steps to the school and he has the strongest urge to follow.
Laura's forceful voice jerks him out of his thoughts.
"Stiles, calm down," she demands. "Do you want Derek charging into your homeroom and ripping apart the nearest person scowling at you? Because he will totally be able to sense your mini freak out right now. You can handle this shit. You can help them. You can, but you have go in there with confidence, or everything you have planned for them is going to scatter like ashes in the wind."
"Derek wouldn't barge in," he says petulantly. "He would lurk in the shadows like a true creeper, and then ambush me the minute I was alone–effectively scaring the ever living shit outta me."
Laura rolls her eyes and puts the car in park. Someone honks from behind her. She growls low in her throat, her eyes flashing yellow momentarily.
"Why couldn't you have taken the jeep? I'm sure the Sheriff wouldn't have cared. You could have even ridden with Cora and her friends."
Stiles shakes his head vigorously. Laura regards him with a raised brow.
"First of all, her friends stare at me, Laura, and—"
"Because you're hot," she interrupts. "If my windows weren't tinted I'm pretty sure everybody out there would be salivating puddles onto the ground."
Stiles glares at her. "Ew. Just–ew, Laura." He physically shakes the mental image of salivating students from his head. "Like I was saying, they stare at me like I used to stare at Lydia, and I feel really bad about that now, because it's suuuper creepy. And as for the jeep? The Sheriff has been really welcoming and all, but he just isn't ready for that. When Derek gets a car, you can go back to doing whatever it is that you do in the mornings."
"I sleep - like every other young adult werewolf who has been chasing a rogue Alpha all night."
Stiles takes a moment to look at the dark circles around her eyes, and the stray leaf in her disheveled hair. He gives her a sympathetic wince and plucks the piece of shrubbery out of her pony tail.
She grins in appreciation.
"What have you figured out?"
"It is really fast, Stiles. Even in her full wolf form, Mom can't match its speed. Its form isn't normal either. It's distorted, and it's wrong." She runs her hands over her hair, checking for any more pieces of forest in the mirror. "When I try and track it, all I can register from the scent is anger and fear. The trail always leads in circles, and eventually the path has crossed so many times that I can't figure out what direction to continue in."
"So, we have a feral Alpha who has somehow wandered into our territory. What could even cause something like that? I mean, werewolves recognize territory lines even in their most primal mindsets. It's scared? Shouldn't it have fled the territory by now if that is the case?" Stiles fingers drum out a restless pattern on the dash board as he watches the students pass by. He sees Laura shrug in his peripheral vision.
"We can't figure out what it is scared of or even get close enough to try and help. Mom almost got close this morning, but it slipped out of her grasp when it heard the argents closing in."
"Hopefully Derek and Peter will have more luck today. Just don't let Derek do anything stupid since I'm not there to talk reason into him," he says as he wraps his fingers around the strap of his backpack. "He isn't close enough for me to pick up on his presence yet, and it really freaking sucks."
Laura laughs. "He looked so miserable when I came to pick you up! It was worse than the time when we were kids and his goldfish died. Seriously, that was pure misery written all over his precious, scowly face."
Stiles grins, but his face quickly sobers at the tweak of worry he can feel from Derek in the back of his mind. Being away from pack right now is hard. Especially, when there is a threat in the territory. Stiles fingers the handle of the dagger hidden at his side. He is even more alert and on edge with Derek not being in his near vicinity. The itch slowly working under his skin is a testament to that, but they can handle being apart. They can handle it for Scott and the others. Someone has to be there to keep an eye on them, and Stiles knows Cora can't watch everyone.
"Oh, god, yep, that's the look," says Laura. "You would think that the fact that you are drenched in each other's scent would calm you down at least a little bit. I mean, that sweater reeks of him. It's like you took a bath in eau de Derek."
Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes the door open. "Just send someone to get me after school please. And don't torture Derek!"
He doesn't stick around to hear her smart remark and shuts the door slightly harder than he has to. She speeds away with a squeal of tires, and he curses her mentally. Everyone is looking at him now, even more than before. He hefts his backpack onto his shoulders.
He can do this. He can see Erica and Isaac without flipping out. He can smile and say hello to Allison like someone who hadn't watched Scott mourn her death. He will look at Boyd and not see Derek on his knees, completely devastated by his death. He will be totally fine. He can do this. Stiles tries not to acknowledge how many lies he just told his head he makes his way toward homeroom. The staring never lets up.
His knows his classes will be easy. He remembers the majority of the work from his senior year and some of lydia's old notes are burned into his mind. He had gone over them enough times with Malia. The hard part is going to be dodging all of the questions he gets. Why do you look like him? Are you his brother? Why are you here? What does your tattoo mean? How old are you? They will be endless.
He was right, of course. Stiles does his best to dodge them all. He manages most, but he doesn't want to come off as a complete jerk. That wouldn't get him anywhere. So, he talks when he thinks it is absolutely necessary and smiles in all the right places. No one is the wiser.
Toward the end of his first class the anxiety of not having Derek near him takes hold. The itch under his skin has intensified to a constant ache that radiates throughout his body. He keeps his nose buried in the sleeve of his sweater, taking in lung fulls of his Alpha's scent, but it isn't helping as much as he thought it would. His magic is constantly reaching out for Derek–searching for him.
On the outside he looks calm and disinterested, but on the inside he is going insane. He wonders if maybe this is all a dream. Maybe he is dead. Maybe Derek isn't really here. Did they ever save him from the nogitsune? He breathing quickens and he really wishes he at least had this class with Scott or Cora.
When the bell rings he dials Derek as quickly as he can, hoping his voice will settle the pull inside him. Derek picks up after the first ring.
"Stiles," Derek's voice runs through him like a calming wave, "are you okay? You're upset. I can feel you freaking out. I'm coming to get you."
Just like that, some the anxiety drains out of him, and he feels like he can function on a semi-normal level again. Derek is alive. They are both alive and safe, for the most part. This is real. He wishes they were at the sheriff's house together on the couch or even training in the back yard. Anything if it meant he could be next to his pack mate.
"I just needed to hear your voice," Stiles says as he leans against the lockers. He notices Scott giving him a worried look from down the hall. "Being away from you–not being able to touch you–know that you're safe and real–it's freaking torture, dude."
"Don't call me dude. I'm headed your way with Peter anyway. We caught scent of the rogue headed near the school, so keep an eye out, alright?"
Stiles can hear the worry in his voice. The way his voice is rough and strained. Derek has it the worst with his Alpha instincts screaming at him not to let Stiles out of his sight. He is quite honestly surprised that Derek hasn't snuck into the school yet.
"Be careful, Derek. Please?"
"I promise. I'll see you soon."
The line goes dead. Stiles tucks his phone back into his pocket and gives Scott a reassuring nod. The beta visibly relaxes and goes about shoving his books into his locker. Stiles turns to head to his next class when he sees Isaac again. His curly head towering above the others. He is holding tightly to his backpack as he weaves his way through the crammed hall.
Stiles stops in his tracks causing a girl to bump into him from behind. He ignores her muttered apology and continues to stare at Isaac. There is dark bruise under one of his eyes. His bottom lip is busted. Stiles' magic prickles under his skin, reaching out for Isaac, longing to fit around him like a protective shield. He pulls it back in quickly.
Isaac is about to round the corner when Jackson emerges with Danny and Lydia. Stiles backs up closer to the lockers, not ready to be seen by Lydia just yet. He doesn't know how she is going to react to his presence here, but he doesn't think she will be very welcoming. Jackson body checks Isaac into the lockers as they pass. Stiles sees him suck in a sharp breath, barley keeping himself from falling to the floor.
He tries to stop himself, but before he knows it, his magic is lashing out in fury, wild and uncontrollable. He watches helplessly as it ricochets through the hall, causing books and papers to go flying. The students stop in stunned silence, and then Jackson is shoved hard to the ground. The magic snaps back to Stiles like a rubber band. He gasps as it slams back into him, sinking into his bones as if appeased now that Jackson is justly on the ground.
He catches Isaac's eyes across the hall and manages to give him a small nod. Isaac just looks at him curiously, the hint of a smile starting to form at the corner of his busted lip. Stiles just grins, quickly making his way down the hall before anyone can notice his presence.
Stiles can feel Derek's concern clawing its way to the front of his mind. He jerks the phone out of his pocket, dodging the students milling around in front of his classroom door. He types out a quick reassuring text as he slides into a seat in the back of the room. Derek's concern doesn't fade. Stiles can feel him more every second.
He makes through the rest of the morning with his biggest issue being his separation from Derek. Lydia is in his calculus class, but she didn't even so much as glance in his direction. Not even once. He knows that he has lunch with Scott, and upon entering the cafeteria he spots him sitting at a table with some of the Lacrosse guys. He is laughing along with Jackson and Danny about something he doesn't care to eavesdrop on. Stiles searches the room for Isaac's curly head and comes up empty. He doesn't see Erica or Boyd either. He doesn't think sitting in Jackson's vicinity will go well, but he does need to speak with Scott.
With a heavy sigh he heads toward the table, thankful that Allison and Lydia are absent. Jackson is watches him with narrowed eyes as he approaches, and Danny… well, Danny is finally answering that question Stiles asked him so long ago. He stares open mouthed at him, practically drooling.
Scott is covering his smirk with his hand as Stiles drops his backpack next to the table with an audible thump. He casually drops into the chair next to him, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Mind if I sit?" Stiles asks, ignoring daggers Jackson is shooting him.
"Nah, man," Scott looks around the table, which has gone completely silent. "Everyone, this is Stilinski, he's the Sheriff's nephew."
The guys at the table are looking at him with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Of course the rumors have been flying around all day about a senior who looks remarkably like Stiles Stilinski joining the ranks of Beacon Hills High. Their eyes drink in the truth as they stare at him. He knows what they see. They see his longer hair and sharper jaw line. Moles that are strangely in the same places. They want to say it, but they can't because he is older. Years older and that is the only thing that has people believing this entire fabricated story that he and Derek have cooked up.
"That explains the resemblance," says Jackson, unimpressed.
Stiles tries to hide his smile when he hears Danny muttering, "He may resemble him, but he is so much hotter."
Scott coughs to hide his surprise.
"So, Stilinski," Jackson prods. Stiles turns his attention to him with a raised eyebrow. "You know anything about Lacrosse or are cheesy tattoos the only thing your into?"
Scott glares at him, and Stiles absentmindedly rubs at the ending tendrils of a spiral on his wrist. The tattoo is a reminder. A connection to the reality that he and Derek now live in. The curves of the lines are stark against his pale skin, and when the sunlight hits them just right they have a blue tint that almost seems to come alive. It's odd and looks out of place until you see him with Derek. Then the two markings seem to connect and flow together like they belong—as if they had been born with them.
Stiles doesn't need another reason to dislike Jackson. The cards were already stacked against him. He had hoped that maybe Scott was right and the Stiles would be able to get along with him, but after watching him body check Isaac in the hall, Stiles isn't feeling very friendly at all where Jackson is concerned.
Danny slaps Jackson on the shoulder, chastising him for the rude remark.
"Not cool, man," he says. "Stop being a dick."
Jackson rolls his eyes. "Whatever, it's a valid question."
Stiles straightens his shoulders, eyeing him warily.
"Do you need some pointers?"
The occupants of the table laugh at the jibe causing the tension to lift. Jackson on the other hand is seething with rage at the dig. His jaw is clenched tight, and he is gripping his water bottle so hard Stiles is waiting for the moment it bursts soaking both Jackson and Danny.
"I'm the captain of the lacrosse team. We need someone to warm the bench with Greenburg. I thought you might be interested."
Stiles snorts, humor dripping from the edges of it. "Tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer." Jackson rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, but Stiles stops him before he has the chance. "I'll play, but I won't be warming the bench. I think Greenburg can handle that all on his own."
Jackson clenches his jaw again and glares. Danny rests a firm hand on his shoulder in warning.
"Dude, calm down, we need a few more good players this year if we want to win the state. Besides, he's a senior and look at his body. Definitely lacrosse material."
Jackson just rolls his eyes again and shoves some potatoes angrily into his mouth before moving to sit somewhere else. Danny follows in his wake. Stiles and Scott are left alone at the end of the table.
Scott sighs heavily and pushes his half finished try away from him.
"He'll never admit it, but he really misses Stiles. They were pretty close since he was Lydia's best friend. He used to always go to him when he needed advice after screwing something up with her. They've been fighting a lot lately without him to hold them together. He is grouchier than normal."
Stiles looks at Scott with a sympathetic expression. He still can't fully wrap his head around how close their Stiles was to Lydia and Jackson. The thought is nearly unconceivable in his head.
"So," says Stiles, "Not to blatantly change the subject, but Derek and I were wondering if you planned on declaring an Alpha anytime soon. Wolves are stronger in a pack, Scott."
Scott nods in understanding. "Oh! Strength in numbers. That makes sense."
"No. They are literally stronger in every sense of the word, Scott. You heal faster, you run faster, you hit harder. Omegas are going to come here seeking a place in Derek's pack. Word of a new Alpha travels fast, and most of the wolves that show up will not be friendly. Derek and I need to start rebuilding our pack so that we can defend ourselves and the town. We need to know where you stand. Whether it be Derek or Talia you need to choose. You have a far better chance of survival as a Beta than an Omega. Especially when the hunters come looking for them. Not all hunters follow the code like Chris and Allison."
Scott scratches the back of his neck and looks away, a flush coloring his cheeks.
"I sort of assumed I was in your pack. I mean you are still important to me even if you're not him. Me and Stiles might not have been close in your eyes, but he was still my best friend in the whole world. He was my brother, man. Lydia didn't monopolize him all the time. I trust any version of him, dude."
Stiles smiles stupidly and shakes his head. Of course that is what Scott thought. He really needed to get back in touch with the way Scott used to view life. He keeps forgetting that this Scott hasn't seen people slaughtered in front of him or had to watch as his friends died. This Scott thinks those things can't happen in a town like this that friendships can't be tested in ways like that.
"Happy to have you man, but you need to talk to Derek. You need to know what it means by declaring your loyalty to him as his beta."
"He won't, like, reject me will he?" Scott's face contorts into the most frightened puppy dog expression that Stiles thinks he has ever seen. His heart nearly cracks at the sight of it.
"No, but he is going to want to make sure you want to join us and not the Hales."
Scott's face immediately relaxes. He shrugs his shoulders. "The Hales are nice and all, but I don't really feel like I belong there. I sort of feel like I'm intruding. With you and Derek it's different. You guys feel like home to me, if that makes any sense."
Stiles pats him on the shoulder. "More than you know, buddy."
Scott tilts his head toward Jackson and Danny's table. His eyes grow wide, like he has heard something horrifying. Stiles can't find it in himself to be upset that he missed it.
"I don't think we should ever let Derek meet Danny," Scott says under his breath.
Stiles raises a questioning eyebrow, and Scott awkwardly runs a hand through his hair. "I just think Derek is kind of protective over you is all."
"Of course he is. I'm pretty protective over him too."
"That's not what I–"
Stiles doesn't hear the rest of whatever Scott says. His eyes catch Isaac's across the room. He walks in with his try in hand and heads toward an empty table.
"I gotta go buddy. We will talk more later." He pats Scott on the shoulder once and abandons his seat in favor of moving toward Isaac, backpack in hand.
Isaac notices him approaching and he freezes. The closer he gets the more Isaac looks like he is ready to bolt, but Stiles makes it to the table before he has the chance. He plops down in the seat across from him with a warm smile.
"Hey, man, I saw what happened this morning. You okay?" he asks. "Looks like it's not the first time Jackson has decided to be an ass. He do that to your lip?" Isaac pales, his heart racing.
"Uh, no," he looks down to his try, poking at his chicken, "Lacrosse." His heart skips. Lie.
"Well, if it makes you feel better I think I might be Jackson's outlet today. I'm Stilinski, by the way." Stiles smiles widely, trying his best to make Isaac feel comfortable.
Isaac look up from under his lashes. A small smile at the corners of his mouth. "I'm Isaac."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. We will be great friends." Isaac tilts his head up and raises a brow. " As a friend I should let you know that I am I'm pretty good at self defense if you want to learn. I can give you a few pointers after practice for keeping Jackson—" Stiles looks at him closely, "or anyone else off your back."
Isaac seems to be at a loss for words. Stiles' kindness seeming to have thrown him for the loop of the century. His tentative smile blooms into a wide grin after and moment and he nods his head.
"Thanks."
This is foreign territory to him. He and Isaac had never been close. Before Derek had bitten him Stiles hadn't said more than two words to him. He never even though to consider it. He wished he had if his Isaac had been anything like the guy sitting across from him now. He is shy and quiet until he decides you are being sincere. Then the sarcasm come out hesitantly at first and then he can trade barbs like a pro. Though, underneath it all there is a sweetness that still tugs at Stiles' heart and magic.
They converse throughout the rest of the lunch period. Stiles talks to him about hand to hand combat, and tells him about Derek and how he is related to the Hales. He doesn't mention anything about werewolves or about his magic, but he makes his intent of friendship clear. He wants Isaac to understand that he has someone he can come talk to now. Someone that has his back no matter the reason.
When the bell rings signaling the end of the period Isaac seems reluctant to leave Stiles' company. Stiles watches with a grin on his face as Isaac disappears into the throng of students.
I am so very sorry this chapter was so late. I have finally gotten my internet hooked up and running in my new place. My new job has slowed down enough that I have time to work on this more as well. So, from here on updates will be back to normal. I really appreciate all of the support that I have received on this fic so far. All of your comments and kudos mean the world to me. Hopefully, none of you had given up on me updating. The next chapter will be up soon! Thanks for being patient!
-SlytherinDiplomat