Proof of Purchase

Staking out the gym sounded a lot easier than it was. After a day spent at the house, watching hockey and barely speaking. Okay, stiles spoke. A lot, but someone had to break up the awkward stretches of suffocating silence, and he was good at talking about nothing in particular. In this case rolling off stats and player bios he wasn't even aware he knew.

While the boys hung out watching sports like it was normal, Lydia had stashed herself away in the bedroom with Peter's book. Jackson had gone up during the break in play. There'd been muffled sound and judging by the looks on Derek and Isaac's faces, whatever was being said wasn't good. Jackson was back down before the game started back up with a look that was trapped halfway between tired and resigned. Stiles had glanced questionably at Derek, who'd simply shaken his head subtly and nodded towards the television.

At around seven, Stiles had received a text from his dad asking where he was and whether he'd be home for dinner. - Which was code for, "Will I be able to order junk food." He'd almost let it go, but they'd had so little time together the last few months, that Stiles had typed out Be Home Soon, before getting up to leave.

Derek had gotten to his feet to give him a ride, but when Stiles had called up to say farewell to Lydia, she'd hurriedly came down and offered to drive him. There had been a strange moment where he'd been torn between the pair, looking between them, before Derek had stepped back and told Stiles he'd pick him up at 11pm. Stiles nodded stiffly and followed Lydia out of the house, trying to ignore the murderous glare Jackson was shooting his way.

And as promised, Derek had been parked up outside his house when he'd looked out his window at 11 that night in a large black people carrier. Stiles was still grinning and laughing when he climbed inside to find Isaac and Jackson in the back seat with sore looks on their faces.

"Nice car." Stiles had grinned, "Did you steal it from a soccer mom?"

Derek shot him an indignant glare and pulled away from the house without a word.

Not wanting to give themselves away because you know, pretty pointless if the bad guy sees them before they see him, Derek parked two streets away and they headed to the school on foot. Obviously, the place was locked up and Derek wrapped his fingers around the bar and pressed. Stiles could hear the metal creaking as he began to bend, and Stiles hurriedly stepped forward and yanked the back of Derek's jacket, stopping him.

"We're trying to be inconspicuous, remember genius. It's not going to look all that inconspicuous if they bad guy shows up and the doors broken, is it?" Stiles rolled his eyes hard and shook his head, reaching into his pockets and producing a set of keys, "Let me show you how the professionals do it."

"Where did you get those?" Derek grumbled, looking around them.

"Dude, with the crap going down over the past year, you think I wouldn't get a set of keys made?" he snorted, looking up at the alpha as the door latch clicked and he pulled it open, "I'm Batman." he grinned.

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved at Stiles shoulder, "Sure you are." pushing him into the school kitchen.

Once inside they took up positions in the gym, which wasn't easy as there wasn't exactly a plethora of hiding spots. They couldn't hide outside either of the double door entrances, because they couldn't be sure which one Mr. Likes-to-string-up-teenagers was going to use, so Derek sent Jackson and Isaac to hide in the changing rooms, ignoring their complaints about having to work together. Isaac trying desperately to convince Derek to let him go with him, or at the very least, Stiles. Derek refused however, and the pair wandered off, their feet dragging. Each one complaining about being lumbered with the other, though somehow managing to agree that it could be worse, "They could be stuck with Stilinski." Which you know, rude.

Stiles and Derek headed off to the other side of the gym and the equipment room. Unlocking the door, the pair slipped into the dark and closed it behind them, leaving a small gap to see through.

That was over an hour ago. Stiles looked down at his watch and frowned, 12:15. "I don't get it." he shook his head, "They should have been here by now."

Derek looked away from the small gap they'd left in the door, "Maybe you've got the wrong night, or the wrong place?"

Stiles shook his head angrily, "No. Here tonight is the only thing that makes sense." he stared off into the dark thoughtfully, "Maybe…maybe it's not a four-victim sacrifice. Maybe it's a three, like I originally thought. Three virgins, three werewolves."

Derek stiffened, staring back out into the darkened gym. "Which means they'll be looking for their third werewolf."

Stiles stiffened, rummaging in his pocket for his cell, "Or they've already got one."

"Cora?"

Stiles looked up from his cell where he was frantically messaging Scott, "Oh, uh…" he shook his head, brows pinched, "But…she's working with them, right? I mean she tried to take Isaac…"

"And she failed," Derek said tightly, chest heaving, "Maybe whoever it is decided to use her instead."

Ok, that wasn't good. "I…"

Derek's back stiffened and his features shifted to their wolf form, "Shhh, someone's coming."

Stiles leapt of the box he'd been sat on, and hurried to join Derek, "Who?"

"Shit." Derek hissed, his head turning to fix Stiles with a frustrated yet concerned frown, "Your dad."

"Double shit." Stiles whispered back, his heart rate picking up. "That's not good, if he finds…." he chewed on his lip, "How far away?"

"One corridor over," Derek replied, straining to listen.

"Okay." Stiles nodded, shoving Derek behind him and hurriedly opening the door. "We need to get out of here, now."

Derek gave a nod of agreement and called Isaac and Jackson, then they as quietly and as fast as possible sprinted through the other set of doors, away from the sheriff, and they didn't stop until they reached the car only a couple of minutes later.

Stiles doubled over, panting. He wasn't used to pushing himself like that, the last time being the night he'd ran into Derek in the woods. His chest heaved, and he gulped in air desperately. When he finally straightened it was to find Isaac and Jackson staring at him, eyes wide and noses wrinkled, confused. He looked to Derek, who broke away from the staring contest with his boots to meet Stiles' gaze with a sympathetic sigh, and the reality of the situation came crashing into him. He'd run with the wolves, faster than the wolves even. He'd done so without a single word of complaint or falling over his own feet. He looked back at the betas and chewed his lips, waiting for the question.

They stood in the semi dark street, the only sound that of their breathing and the occasional dog bark. Derek broke the tense silence when he pushed himself off the car and turned to them, "Okay, you've got questions, but its late."

"Questions?" Jackson scoffed, his eyes never leaving Stiles, "You could say that. What the hell Stilinski?"

Derek opened his mouth to tell Jackson to leave it for now, only to be cut off by Isaac. "You're not a wolf?"

Stiles sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. He looked to Derek for help, hoping he could use his alpha powers to somehow wipe their memories, but all he could do was shrug regretfully. "No," he replied finally with a long-tired breath, "I'm not a wolf,"

"But you're not human." Isaac clarified.

"I'm…kind of human." Stiles said, shrugging. "It's complicated and…" he looked to Derek again, "Look, like Derek said, its late."

"If you're not human, what are you?" Jackson demanded accusingly.

"Jackson."

"I'm…. - " Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson, taking a step forward, "…stronger than you. That's all you need to know right now." he warned, and Jackson's eyes flashed blue.

"Oh really," Jackson seethed, stepping into Stiles' personal space, "What to test that theory?"

"Anytime, Whittemore."

Derek stepped between them, his back to Stiles and his hand firmly pressed into Jackson's chest, "You want to stop now, Jackson," he warned.

"Or what, Stilinski will kick my ass?" he scoffed.

"No," Derek said in a low voice, moving right up into Jackson's face with his red eyes glowing, "I will."

Despite himself, Jackson wilted, dropping his gaze and taking a cautious step back.

"Tomorrow." Stiles said around Derek, "You want me to prove it, fine. Tomorrow at the house."

"Stiles." Derek groaned, glaring at the teenager.

Stiles pressed his lips into a tight line and glared at the alpha, "Tomorrow."

With a tired sigh, Derek shook his head and stepped away from them, "Let's get out of here."

When they dropped Jackson off at his house, Stiles reminded him to be at the house tomorrow, noon, which Jackson heartily agreed too. Derek growled under his breath, heading for Stiles' place. "What are you trying to prove?"

Stiles huffed, "Other than the obvious?"

"Yes."

"That just because he's a werewolf, there are still people…things stronger than him. - Besides I've been wanting to give Jackson a taste of his own medicine since middle school when he flushed Scott's head down the toilet." he smirked.

Derek looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, resigned to the situation, "Fine. I'll pick you up at 10, okay?"

The car pulled to a stop outside the house, "Better not," Stiles said, shaking his head, "Dad will be home, I'll walk."

There were a few seconds where it looked like Derek was going to argue, then he nodded, "Alright. Night Stiles."

Stiles lent through the rolled down window, lips curving at the corner, "Night Derek." he paused, just smiling at the alpha, before remembering that Isaac was in the car too. He turned to look at the beta and nodded his farewell, "Night Isaac."

"Night Stiles." Isaac replied stiffly.

And then Stiles stepped away and headed for the house, waving Derek to leave. He kept watching until the SUV was out of sight before going inside.

_(*-*)_/

Derek groaned as he pushed himself off the couch, blinking at the sunlight that was spilling though the window. He'd fallen asleep in front of the TV again, for the twentieth day in a row. He'd tried to go to bed, stretching out on the new mattress, staring up at the new ceiling, in his new room and just laid there listened to the beat of Isaac's heart down the hall. Moving into the house, he'd hoped would give him a sense of stability, but all it did was remind him what wasn't there.

If he were honest, he probably would have given up on the place months ago. He'd been considering just hiring someone to fix the place up and then… well, he wasn't sure what he would have done after that, but then Stiles had started showing up to help and he couldn't bring himself to turn him away. The next thing he'd known they were standing outside a fully refurbished house, larger than the one Kate had destroyed.

However, now he was actually living in the house it felt suffocating, cold and empty. What had once been filled with heartbeats and laughter, and fighting - they were a family after all, - is now barely a home. Derek knows Isaac is only there because he has nowhere else to go, and that the moment he finds a better offer, or he graduates, he'll leave. Just as Erica and Boyd left.

Not that he blamed the pair for leaving. Why would they stay when he offered them very little? He'd kept the promise of strength, power and health, but had failed to give them a second home, a second family. - He'd failed to give them the security of pack.

Dragging his feet into the kitchen, Derek fussed around to make coffee and noting the empty cupboards. They'd never been empty growing up, his dad had kept the house fully stocked, ready to feed the ravenous hordes. He looked over to the kitchen table, his body falling back against the counter as the memory slammed into him. It had rarely ever been that empty, there was always someone sat there. If it wasn't his young brothers arguing over some board game or coloring book, it was Laura and her friends sitting around eating junk food and talking about boys, girls and school. Cora, surrounded by newspapers and paint, slowly filling the house with her talent. - God, she'd had such talent.

He remembered his parents Thursday nights, where they'd have a dinner just the two of them, candle lit and private, all the kids ordered to stay away from the kitchen. Which usually meant family movie night for them, a cooler in the corner and popcorn covering almost every surface. And when his mom and dad weren't drooling over on another, his mom was sat with his dad and Laura, talking pack business.

The house was never silent, and rarely had less than three people in it at one time. Derek had never been alone until Peter died. Never been fully disconnected from family or pack, so yeah, maybe he'd gone a little crazy when he'd become alpha, though thankfully not as crazy as Peter himself.

Turning away from the table, Derek hurriedly poured his coffee and marched out the kitchen, through the living room and out onto the porch. Lowering himself into the swing at the far end, he stared ahead into nothing, both hands wrapped around the mug. It was a bright morning, warm already and Derek lifted his nose in the air, inhaling deeply. They were going to have an Indian Summer, he could smell it and he smiled. He'd missed the California weather in New York.

The first couple of years had been torture for him, not just because it got beyond friggin' cold, or the snow, but because of the built up, claustrophobic way New York wrapped around him, crushing him. He'd suffered from panic attacks for over a year, which was why he'd ended up seeing Doctor Rhodes. He'd still been seeing her right up until he'd left for Beacon Hills a year ago.

She'd helped him deal with a lot, not just the panic attacks and the feeling of being trapped, but with the guilt over Kate, telling him it wasn't his fault. That the Argents were merciless, despite what they liked the supernatural world to believe. That what Kate had done to him was typical of the callous way the family, and hunters in general, dealt with their kind. They were racists and saw werewolves, and almost anything that wasn't human, as soulless creatures to be exterminated. Rabid dogs to be put down. It wasn't his fault, he was a child already suffering from self-doubt and guilt, just wanting someone to punish him for the crimes he'd already committed.

Shaking his head, Derek cleared the lump from his throat and ordered his mind away from that dark path. He didn't think about that, not ever.

Sipping at his coffee, he closed his eyes, listening once more to Isaac's heartbeat. So loud in the empty house and felt his stomach tightened. The house wouldn't be empty is Laura had still been alive. Then again, there wouldn't be a house if Laura was still alive. She'd made it perfectly clear that she was never going to return to Beacon Hills. She'd been happy in New York, with her friends and her job, and her boyfriend Andrew. - God, Derek flinched, shaking his head, he hadn't even told the man she was dead. He hadn't had contact with anyone from New York in a year. He should probably do that, call around the packs, call Andrew, tell them all that Laura was dead, and he was the new alpha. He could just imagine how welcome that news would be. - He doubted even Nick and Clay would be particularly happy about it. Mostly because they both knew how much he struggled, how angry he'd always been at the world. Neither of them would be surprised to learn that he'd failed as an alpha. - He couldn't even keep food in the cupboards.

Gritting his teeth, Derek shoved himself off the swing and marched into the house. After depositing his mug in the sink, he hurried upstairs to shower and change.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles was startled awake by his dad's voice and he pushed himself up, groaned at the stiffness in his back from the insane position he'd been sleeping in. The clearing of his dad's throat had Stiles turning to look at the man, only to receive an amused look and a nod, frowning, Stiles lifted his hand, wincing with embarrassment as he peeled a sheet of paper off his cheek.

"It's good to see that you're focused on school work for a change." His dad said, smiling; though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've been worried about you, Stiles." He stepped into the room, perching on the end of the bed and looking down at his son, "I don't know what's been happening the past year but…"

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line, "Dad…"

"No," John Stilinski sighed, rubbing at his eyes, "I know things have been difficult, and you've been through a lot the past year, with Matt and everything. – I know it must have been hard not to…" he looked away, unable to meet his son's eyes, "I can only imagine how it felt, knowing you could have stopped him before anyone got hurt, but…"

Stiles gritted his teeth as he gathered the papers and carried them over to his desk, "I know the rules." He said tightly, "No one can know." Except Derek knew and Stiles wondered what his dad would say if he told him that.

"It's for your own safety Stiles."

Stiles couldn't help but scoff. His own safety, it hadn't been so safe when Matt had a gun pointed at him, and he could have so easily disarmed the psycho, or when Gerard Argent was kicking the hell out of him. "Yeah." He finally muttered, turning his back on his dad.

"And I know it can't be easy keeping it from Scott."

Stiles closed his eyes and exhaled, "Weirdly, keeping it from Scott has never been a problem." He whispered.

"What was that?" John pressed.

"Nothing Dad," Stiles turned to looked at his old man, "Is there something you need, because I have plans."

John stiffened, narrowing his eyes at him, "Plans? With Scott?"

Stiles sighed, "I told you dad, me and Scott, we're not friends anymore."

John's features tensed, and Stiles knew he knew exactly who his dad was expecting him to say he had plans with. "Oh, so who…"

"Jackson, Lydia and Isaac." He said, truthfully. – Well, half a truth was better than no truth, right?

"Jackson?" his dad frowned, "Jackson Whittemore? Since when were you friends with…"

"I never said we were friends," Stiles dismissed, "But he's Lydia's boyfriend and I'm friends with Lydia,"

John nodded, "And Isaac?"

"He's just tagging along." Stiles shrugged. Only lies have detail, he told himself.

"Oh, okay." The man got to his feet, "Where are you going?"

Shit. Stiles shrugged, "Probably just hang out at someone's house. Lydia's probably." He quickly added when his dad looked at him in that way he did whenever Derek was brought up in conversation. Suspicious and wary.

His dad stared at him for a moment, and knew the man wasn't fooled, which just made him feel worse. It would be so much easier if he could just tell him the truth, the whole truth. That there were werewolves and hunters, kanimas and virgin sacrificing god-knows-whats in the world. That Stiles was trying to keep the town safe from the worst of the supernatural, just as his dad was trying to keep the town safe from the worst of humanity. Maybe if his dad knew there were freakier freaks out there, then maybe he'd stop looking at Stiles like he was one.

"Well, just stay together." His dad said finally, turning to leave.

"Oh, Dad!" Stiles called.

"Yes Stiles?"

"Was…" he looked at the map briefly, brows knitted, "As another body been called in?"

John stared at him for a moment, following his sons gaze to the wall, "No. – Stiles, I don't want you sniffing around this one, it's too dangerous."

Stiles opened his mouth to remind him that he could take care of himself and inform him that he'd survived worse. What he ended up saying was, "I'm just trying to help."

John rubbed at his eyes, "I don't need your help Stiles, I am capable of doing my job." He snapped, shooting his son a tired, withering look before leaving, yanking the bedroom door closed behind him.

Stiles dropped down on the desk chair and dragged both his hands through his hair, his chest aching at the growing distance and resentment that was settling between him and his father.

_(*-*)_/

Derek pushed the trolley along the aisle, his gaze flickering from one shelf to the other. Shopping have never been his favorite chore growing up, and that was with a list from his mother. Now, he had nothing but his own initiative to rely on. He had no idea what Isaac even ate. For the six months Isaac had been under his care, they'd pretty much been eating nothing but takeout, seeing as they'd been living out of a warehouse, with no amenities. The only person Derek could accurately buy food for was Stiles, and only because he never seemed to stop eating, or at least that's how it had felt for the two months they'd been working on the house.

He knew Stiles loved curly fries, burgers, Cheetos and Reece cups, and he drank soda like it was going out of fashion. Also, a lot of milk, but that had more to do with his condition than his actual love of the substance.

With that in mind, Derek turned the corner, heading for the fridge and grunted as the trolley collided with another. He looked up and looked apologetically at the dark-haired woman, "Sorry."

She shook her head, smiling, "It was my fault," she said shyly, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I." Derek smiled apologetically.

The woman flushed, looking away and pushing her hair behind her ear before meeting his gaze again, "I'm Jennifer. Jennifer Blake." She said quietly.

Derek blinked, "Uh, Derek. Hale." He clarified, reaching out to shake the hand she'd stretched out to him.

"I'm kind of new in town," she said, smiling lopsidedly at him.

"Oh?" Derek nodded, uncertain, "Well welcome to Beacon Hills."

"Thank you." Jennifer grinned brightly. "So…" she hurriedly continues, clearly seeing Derek's impatience to leave the conversation. "…what do people do for fun around here?"

Derek cleared his throat, gaze flicking past her for a moment, "I don't know, I don't really…go out."

"Oh?" her face fell a little, "You and your girlfriend are the stay at home types then."

Derek wasn't sure whether to feel irritated or amused at the blatant way she was trying to discover if he was taken and suddenly Stiles came to mind, along with the disgust he felt at himself.

"Also, maybe you know, get out there. Date someone." He remembered Stiles saying, "…move on. Get out there. Meet someone new." He looked back at the woman, Jennifer. She seemed nice enough, sweet. He liked the way her lips curled up at the corner shyly. He'd never dated any one shy before, always being drawn to self-confidence and strength of will. – And look where that had gotten him. "I…" he stammered, "I don't have a girlfriend. I… just don't really get the opportunity to socialize."

Jennifer smiled again, "Well…if… I mean would you like… if you'd like to get a drink sometime."

Derek's gut tightened at the idea, his every instinct telling him to refuse. "Date someone." Stiles' voice whispered again, and Derek took a breath, squaring his shoulders. What's the worst that could happen? "Sure, that sounds…yeah."

Jennifer grinned, "How about tonight?"

"Uh, I…" he looked down at the trolley and the food. He'd planned on making a pack dinner, "I just of have…family plans tonight." He watched her face fall and hurried to reassure her he wasn't brushing her off, "How about Friday?"

Jennifer looked a little uncertain at first, before beaming at him. "That would be lovely," she reached into the bag hanging across her chest, pulling out a pen and paper. "Here's my number," she said, handing him the small sheet, "Call me."

Derek took the paper and looked down at the row of numbers, "Yeah." He nodded, looking up at her, "I… I've got to go."

She laughed softly, nodded her head enthusiastically, "I should probably leave too." She licked her lips before saying goodbye and then skirted her trolley around his and strolled away. Derek looked over his shoulder and caught her smiling back at him.

When she turned down one of the aisles, he stared at the phone number with a heavy weight of regret. He didn't really want to date, he had too much on his hands at the moment, between looking for Erica and Boyd, and helping Stiles figure out what was killing virgins. – But, Stiles was always right, right? Which means if he thinks it's time for Derek to move on and date someone, someone who isn't a seventeen-year-old high school student, then…maybe he should do that.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles stepped out of the woodland, sweat peppering his forehead from the lingering summer heat. It was still too soon to call it an Indian summer, but he had a feeling that was exactly what they were going to have.

The front of the house seemed to glow in the morning sunlight, like a beacon calling him close. The beacon of Beacon Hills, he smirked to himself. Looking around, Stiles smile grew wider when he noticed that neither Lydia or Jackson's car was parked up outside, but then…neither was Derek's, which brought a frown to his face. There was no way Derek had forgotten that he'd intended to come out her today, or that he'd insisted on walking.

Taking the steps two at a time, Stiles knocked on the front door, straining his hearing to listen for movement inside, exhaling the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he caught the sound of feet on the steps. A second later, the door was yanked open and a sleepy looking Isaac stared at him for a second, as if confused to see him, and then turned to march away. "Derek isn't here." He said over his shoulder, voice rough with sleep.

Stiles followed him, pushing the door closed, "Where is he?"

"Said he was going to the store." Isaac sighed, yanking open the refrigerator, only to sigh and close it again. "Thank god."

Stiles watched the beta move over to the sink, fill a glass with water and gulp it down. He repeated the action three times more before leaving the glass in the sink and turning to look at him. "What about Jackson?" and Isaac shrugged in answer.

They stood there in a tense silence, just watching each other, before Isaac finally broke it with, "Does Scott know?" he asked, "Whatever it is you are." As if needing to clarify.

Stiles stiffened at the question, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and dropping his gaze to the floor. "N-no." he replied weakly, shaking his head.

"But Derek does?"

Stiles shrugged his shoulder, not wanting to answer that question because he knew how bad it would sound. He hadn't told his best friend, but he'd told Derek. – Except he hadn't, not really, right? Derek had kind of found out on his own, by accident.

Isaac didn't say anything more, pushing himself off the counter, and leaving the kitchen. Stiles remained where he was, his butt perched on the edge of the table. He stared down at his feet guiltily. He knew he'd have to tell Scott. With Isaac and Jackson both aware there was something different about him, he had little choice. It was just a matter of how much to tell him. Could he risk telling him the truth? He didn't plan on telling either Isaac or Jackson, he'd spent some of the previous night coming up with a vague explanation for why he was able to kick Jackson's ass across Derek's back lawn. The best he could come up with, was that his ancestors were…something. They didn't need details.

The sound of a car brought Stiles out of his head, and he pushed himself off the table. Isaac was nowhere to be seen, but tilting his head, Stiles could hear him moving around upstairs, and sighed. He headed out to the front porch, folding his arms over his chest as he watched the SUV pull to a stop, and Jackson leap out of the passenger seat, Derek following a few seconds later.

Instead of heading to the back with Derek, Jackson marched towards Stiles, lip curving coldly, "You ready Stilinski?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't think you'd be so eager to get your ass kicked Jackson." He smirked, skipping down the stairs past Jackson and over to help Derek with the bags. "Morning." He said to Derek, grabbing three large paper bags with ease, "Hungry?"

"There's no food in the house." Derek said by way of explanation, and strolled away, leaving the boot open.

Stiles grinned brightly as he followed the alpha into the house, ignoring the challenging, impatient stare of Jackson's blue eyes, and the arrogant curl of his lip. Oh, how he was going to enjoy wiping that smug look of the beta's face.

In the kitchen, he dropped the bags on the counter and ripped, letting the food tumble out. "Wow, you really went to town."

"Can't keep living on takeout." Derek said, carrying food to stack in the cupboards.

"Yay for you," Stiles grinned, handing over a large bottle of milk, "new house, new start." He nodded approvingly.

"New alpha." Derek agreed, smiling back at him as he put the milk in the refrigerator.

"Man, you…really like milk?" Stiles gasped, lifting yet another large bottle.

"It's more of a precaution." Derek replied meaningfully, taking it from Stiles and slipping it in beside the other bottle.

Stiles stared at him. A precaution? Had Derek seriously just brought a shit ton of milk for…him? In case he had… no way.

"Stiles?" Derek frowned.

"Oh, uh…thanks." He said quietly, eyes locked with Derek's as his heart raced, and he licked his lips.

"You brought food?" Isaac announced, startling the pair of them out of their staring contest.

Derek's head snapped around, "I…told you I was going to the grocery store." He huffed, marching over to the counter.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect…" he gestured to the counter.

Stiles looked over to see the surprised look on Isaac's face, something flickering behind his eyes that reminded him of the first time his dad had made dinner after his mom's death, when Stiles finally accepted that they were going to survive the loss. His heart clenched at the memory, and just what that meant for Derek and Isaac.

"Are we going to do this?" Jackson announced, appearing behind Isaac in the doorway.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and sighed warily. "Fine, if you're so desperate to get your ass handed to you, let's go."

"Stiles." Derek called, tugging on his upper arm, waiting for Jackson and Isaac to vanish out the back door before continuing, "Are you sure you want to do this? They'll be no going back." He whispered.

Stiles looked into the green concerned gaze, then over to the empty doorway, "I have to," he said quietly, "He'll never quit if I don't."

Derek nodded, regrettably, "What about your arm?" he nodded to the cast.

"Arms healed," he reminded Derek with a smile, "I promise not to use it to break Jackson's face, too badly." He winked, and Derek chuckled softly, finally withdrawing his hand from Stiles arm, where they'd both forgotten it.

Derek shook his head, "Alright," he followed Stiles, leaving the remaining non-perishable items on the counter, "It'll be good for him, it might actually make him listen to me when I tell him he needs to train."

Stiles couldn't help but turn and fix Derek with a wide grin, "Not that it helped you," he laughed,

Derek narrowed his gaze at the teenager, and smirked when Stiles tripped backwards over his own feet, "It was a fluke."

Getting his balance and stepping out into the warm afternoon sunlight, he scoffed, "Sure it was."

Jackson was stripped down to his skin and shifted when Stiles scurried down the steps. Stiles rolled his eyes as Jackson flexed his muscles and rolled his shoulders, like he'd just stepped out of a bad Chuck Norris movie. Looking up to where Derek was leaning against the railing of the porch, arms folded over his chest, Isaac stood uncertainly next to him, looking back and forth between them, Stiles huffed out a laugh, catching the alpha's eyes.

Turning back to Jackson, Stiles unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, tossing it up to Derek without breaking eye contact with his opponent, he then reached for the back of his t-shirt and dragged it over his head, tossing it in the same direction. He heard it hit the floor and glanced over, frowning as Derek bent to retrieve it. There was a sudden redness to the alpha's face that hadn't been there before, and Stiles forced back the spark of hope at the idea his naked chest had put it there. It wasn't as if Derek hadn't seen him shirtless before. Hell, he'd seen him naked as the day he was born not six months ago.

Stiles felt his own face heat and quickly averted his eyes back to an impatient Jackson, who was hopping from one foot to the other, fingers curling and uncurling at his side, claws extended. There was a look of blood lust in the beta's gaze that on any other opponent probably would have made their blood run cold, but on Stiles it just made him smirk wider and bury his feet into the dirt.

The pair stared at each other for a long moment before finally Jackson rushed at him. Stiles waited, arms raised in preparation for the contact.

Jackson sped towards him suddenly, but Stiles kept the werewolf in his sights so that the moment he was in arm's length he brought his fist around hard to connect with the guy's jaw, sending Jackson staggering to the right, shocked.

The look in the jackass' face was priceless but Stiles didn't allow himself to gloat, there'd be plenty of time for that later, instead he focused his vision on the roll of Jackson's shoulders and the curve of his back, waiting for the guy to turn and then he rushed forward, before Jackson was fully able to regain his bearings. Stiles swung at his jaw again, knocking him to the left once more, before bringing his cast around to crash against the side of Jackson's head, just above his ear.

Jackson staggered forward, shaking his head and letting out angry growl, but Stiles didn't retreat, if Jackson wanted proof that Stiles could prevail in a fight, then so be it.

"What's wrong Jackson?" Stiles said, voice steady, "realizing you're not as light on your feet as you used to be?" he scoffed, delivering a brutal kick to Jackson's back before aiming another at the werewolf's knee, causing him to collapse forward into the dirt.

Jackson roared, eyes glowing blue in fury and frustration, as he twisted his head around, swiftly followed by his body and rushing for Stiles once more.

This time, he swerved right when Stiles moved to punch him, ducking behind him and swiping at his back, but Stiles was quicker, twisting his own body to avoid the attack at the last moment. He gripped Jackson's wrist as it swung away and brought the cast down hard across the bone. The snap vibrated up Stiles own arm.

Jackson roared and brought his good arm around, grabbing at Stiles throat before Stiles had a chance to jerk out of the way. He squeezed hard, getting to his feet, his broken arm hanging loose at his side.

Beyond the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears, Stiles heard Derek ordering Jackson to stop, but neither of them was in any right mind to walk away from this fight yet.

Jackson lifted him off his feet, glaring up at him with bared teeth and bright blue eyes. Stiles focused his attention on his next move and not on the way his lungs were struggling to refill, or the way Jackson's claws were breaking into his flesh, drawing a warm trickle of blood to roll down his back.

With his hand wrapped around Jackson's wrist, Stiles used it as leverage, swinging his legs back then forward and up to wrap around Jackson's neck, forcing his arm back into an awkward position.

Stiles didn't let go however, twisting his center of gravity and throwing them both into the dirt. Jackson's head slammed into the ground and Stiles felt the pop of the beta's shoulder disconnect. Squeezing his thighs tight around Jackson's throat, Stiles yanked on the arm, dragging yet another agonising cry from the werewolf.

"Stiles!" Growled Derek loudly in his ear, and the teenager startled at the feel of clawed fingers around his throat, pulling him back, "Enough! You've made your point."

Stiles blinked, his vision clearing as the red mist faded away, leaving him with the cold reality of a trembling and pale Jackson between his legs, arm bent in a stomach churning position. He let go instantly and scrambled back away from the prone beta.

Derek crouched at Jackson's side, examining his injuries and easing his pain as best he could, "You'll be alright," he reassured, "we just need to get your shoulder back in place." He carefully helped Jackson to his feet and half dragged him back to the house.

At the steps, Derek paused, looking back to Stiles, "You too. You need to see to those cuts."

Stiles stared at him, head buzzing. It was the first time he'd ever used what his mother had taught him on an actual person. – Except for that one time with Derek, but that hadn't been much of a fight and he hadn't really let go and embrace the power he had inside him, he'd just wanted to stay alive. This however, this had been a calculated fight and Stiles had thrived, become intoxicated with what his body could do. How naturally strong and fast he was. If Jackson hadn't been a werewolf, he'd have inflicted some serious damage. Life threatening damage.

Stiles stared down at his trembling hands and gasped at the feel of a warm hand on his bare shoulder. Looking up he met Derek's concerned, watchful gaze. "You okay?" he asked, cautiously, his gaze flickering down to where Stiles hands were shaking.

Stiles inhaled deeply, huffing a humourless laugh, "I… - I guess I showed him." He sobered, staring down at the dent in his cast from the impact with Jackson's skull. There was a joke playing at the back of his mind, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Yeah," Derek said quietly, his hand massaging Stiles shoulder, "and now he'll think twice before judging a book by its cover." He smirked, softly, and Stiles looked up at him, his heart skipping a beat and he licked his lips. The air vanished from his lungs and his eyes dropped to the alpha's mouth. So close, so…

Derek pulled away, getting back to his feet, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and cut that thing off?" he nodded towards Stiles cast.

"I've still got four weeks," Stiles said, as he was getting to his feet.

"You said it was healed," Derek said uncertainly, leading Stiles back into the house, keeping a wide berth.

Stiles sighed, "It is." He nodded, "but people will wonder if I turn up to school…"

Derek paused on the threshold, turning to look at him, lip curling, "They'll wonder more if you turn up with it looking like that."


A/N: I'm sorry if the fight between Jackson and Stiles didn't stand up to expectation, writing fight scenes are one of the hardest things for me. I hope the chapter wasn't that dull, I know it's another filler, sorry.